Red Snow
She hates snow.
She hates it with everything she has.
All because of what she did that night.
She killed him. Peter. Her love.
She had him chained to that tree, both of them believing he was the wolf.
Hence the chains.
They chained him to that tree, the both of them. The bonds were so he couldn't break free when he turned.
But he didn't turn.
She did.
Then he had to watch, heartbroken, terrified, as she lunged at him, his love, his Red.
Then she tore open his throat.
For then his blood spilled staining that pure, white, snow that glittered in the moonlight, crimson red.
That's when she kept biting, ripping his flesh apart to shreds, not aware she was the wolf, and not aware she was killing her love.
That's where they found her.
Granny and Mary, that is.
They found her over his remains, still tearing at them.
The snow around her red with blood…
The next thing she knew Granny and Mary were standing over her, helping her to her feet.
Then the truth came.
The truth that she was the wolf, not Peter.
The truth that she had killed him.
The truth that she was a monster.
She cried and sobbed violently as Mary brought her home.
She cried for what she had done.
She cried for him.
Now she hates snow.
Especially that hideous crimson red snow she had caused, and that she had seen.
She will never forgive herself for what she did.