The next afternoon in Green Magic was unbearably awkward. As soon as she saw him enter the room, she turned away, tried to position herself so she would not have to make eye contact with him. She could feel him looking at her, she knew he had to be wondering why. But he was too close, even if he was sitting a respectful distance away.

After all, he couldn't know about her crush—that was too dangerous for the both of them.

After all, she was still cursed, a promised hero and villain of the long Danaan lineage. No one deserved to be dragged down with her.

It was a relief to see Dr. Vasquez burst into class. She seemed to be practically vibrating with energy as the room darkened, and her crystal globe on her desk lit up.

"In our studies of the Long Winter, there is one figure who we must start with, in order to properly cover the rest." She smiled mischievously. "Of course, this is also my academic specialty."

A few of their classmates tittered at the dramatic delivery.

Dr. Vasquez grinned, and struck a pose."Today, we cover Fenrir, the Badwolf." At her words, the crystal globe on her desk turned blood-red.

Solene felt Dorian stiffen beside her, heard a sharp inhale of air. She glanced toward him, a silent communication of concern. He wouldn't look at her, though. Instead he kept his eyes straight ahead, as if he were staring at something a thousand miles away. His grip tightened around one of his pencils and turned his knuckles white.

She looked back to Dr. Vasquez. But she didn't seem to have noticed.

"Fenrir, known often in many stories as the Badwolf, is somewhat debated in academic circles as to whether he truly existed, like Durendal did, or if he was more of a mythic archetype given fears of the werewolves and wolves in general around the time period of the Long Winter," Dr. Vasquez continued blithely. "But his saga has survived to the modern day and is strongly believed by the werewolf community to reflect real events."

Dr. Vasquez then grabbed her crystal globe and tapped it. The shadowy silhouette of a hulking wolf-man outlined in red with glowing red eyes appeared in front of the blackboard, with silver lights like snowflakes dancing around the room.

"The origins of Fenrir the Badwolf are shrouded mainly in myth," Dr. Vasquez began. "Some stories from the werewolf packs claim that he came from a longer lineage of similar Badwolves. Academics are of the opinion that this could be referring to either a cultural role regarding outcasts, or 'rogues' as they call them and that no such lineage really exists, especially given how their stories have largely been attributed to Fenrir except in a few sources that have survived from the eleventh century or prior."

As she spoke, a line of dark wolf-men grew behind the big one, although they lacked such a bright crimson aura or blood-red eyes.

"However, it is known that by the time that Fenrir was considered to have come of age that he was an especially aggressive wolf who tended to start and escalate conflicts," Dr. Vasquez continued. "Many stories from the werewolf packs tell of various conflicts that he got into and their often tragic ends, with Fenrir often escaping punishment for one reason or another. That is, until he got involved with the Girl in Red."

With another tap, Dr. Vasquez's crystal globe shimmered, and the appearance of a girl in a red cloak appeared.

Solene heard another sharp inhale from Dorian beside her—he'd closed his eyes.

She leaned in and dropped her voice as low as she possibly could. "You okay?"

He shook his head ever so slightly. Whether that meant 'no' or 'drop it' she wasn't sure.

"The Girl in Red's name was never written down, but the various recounts take care to note that she was human, although her grandmother was alleged to be a prominent witch in the village, and that the Girl in Red was a particularly beloved member of her community," Dr. Vasquez continued. "Her red cloak, an artifact believed to be enchanted by her grandmother, also became her defining characteristic in the legend."

Dr. Vasquez surveyed the room, her eyes gleaming now. "Now, I'd talk to Professor Prewett or Professor Revere in the Artificing department or even Professor Balder in Magical Theory about the current academic consensus on the cloak and what properties it may have held to give it such renown. Although there are other theories that the cloak was more a mythological motif than any reflected reality, instead mapping ideas that the storyteller wished to project onto the girl."

She sighed—likely disappointed in that all eyes were on her. "One theory I'm rather fond of suggests the imagery of a rose inspired the color, because of one of the commonly-theorized locations for the community. I am of course speaking of the very prominent Gardenia Rosalia, the home seat of the Blackbriar kitsune clan."

She then frowned and tilted her head. "However, I do hold that Gardenia Rosalia cannot be the location because of how the Blackbriar clan kept their records in good condition and there are no gaps to suggest. Besides the additional ridiculousness of a werewolf of any level of power getting into a fight with a kitsune warrior." 

Solene blinked, unsure of how to process that tangent.

Dr. Vasquez gave a gentle cough. "Anyway, Fenrir became fixated, obsessed with the Girl in Red and began to lay siege onto her community, for he held power over the wind and skies and began a blizzard that might have meant the end of her village and the local pack."

She tapped her crystal orb and the snowflake lights grew, and moved faster and faster. Solene gripped the desk, she was starting to feel a little sick, like too many turns on the spinning teacup ride in the amusement park in the Arcane Lights.

"To abate the threat, the Girl in Red struck a bargain, agreed to go with him." The Girl in Red offered her hand to the monstrous wolf, whose claws ripped into her cloak. "The village was spared. Fenrir left his pack peacefully. But the Girl in Red was never seen again."

The jaws of Fenrir's shadow snapped open, devouring the Girl in Red, the snowflakes, and all light within the classroom, casting them into darkness entirely.

Never had Solene been so aware in those moments in the dark that her cardigan was entirely red.

"This was the beginning of the Long Winter," Dr. Vasquez continued. "That blizzard, while it diverted the Girl in Red's Village, would go on to envelope all of Verana. And it would only be with the death of the Badwolf and the arrival of Durendal that winter would come to an end."

...

"Are you alright?" Solene caught Dorian by the arm as he attempted to shoot past her in the corridor.

"What do you mean?" His eyes were wild, in stark contrast to how he tried to keep the rest of his face stoic. "I'm fine—"

"No, you're not, I can see that." Solene dropped her voice and pulled him aside.

"I won't tell anyone. We're friends, aren't we?"

"I—" Dorian paused, and he visibly shrank as he looked away. "I don't like how she tells the story."

Solene frowned. "What do you mean?"

He gently shrugged out of her grip. "I can't really explain it. I just wonder if there was more to it."

"You think the guy named the Badwolf wasn't a monster?" Solene couldn't help but let out a small laugh, it sounded absurd.

Dorian's eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "Or maybe monsters aren't all bad. And maybe we keep telling ourselves that story when there was more to it. Maybe the villagers weren't kind. Maybe the girl ran away with him. Maybe the winter had nothing to do with him entirely."

"I don't understand—it's just myth, isn't it?"

Dorian blinked. Then he visibly shrank, turning his face away from hers. "You're right. It's just a myth."

Solene didn't know what to do. She sensed she'd hurt him somehow, but she didn't understand how or why.

She reached out a hand, only for him to step away.

"I'm sorry." Now he was the one refusing to look at her. "I've got to get to class."