Page 15 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Syve

Dust and pine. Why did it smell like dust and pine?

Syve groaned. Her body was stiff and sore in the same way it always was after she’d fallen asleep on the floor. Only this was not her living room. Quick flashes played in her mind: reading her mother’s journal, not being able to open her door…Aimi?

Running and running.

Trees and…him.

Her eyes snapped open, immediately landing on the man standing in the corner.

He stood stock still, like he’d been cornered by a lion, watching her while he pressed himself into the wall, as if he was afraid of what she would do.

If he could only back up another quarter inch, he could phase right through the wall itself.

Syve squinted her eyes, and was certain when she’d seen him earlier he was the same silent stranger from The Glass, but now…

he was different. His hair was disheveled with twigs sticking out of the wavy, tangled mess.

Sunken eyes stared at her warily, brows knit and a frown tugging at his surprisingly full lips.

She was certain he’d been wearing a black t-shirt before, but was now wearing a dark gray long sleeve.

She also noticed he was barefoot, though that took a second glance to confirm, since his feet were thoroughly covered in dirt.

The man cleared his throat, the sound choking out at the end as he winced.

Oh, she had flinched.

He tried again.

“I…there’s water.”

He pointed and her eyes slowly followed.

Two bottles of water, various small bags of snacks, and a handful of candy bars sat in an open plastic tote on the floor.

That’s when Syve noticed she was lying on a bench, covered with a plush throw blanket.

She was confused, tired and so damned thirsty.

Questions could be asked once her tongue no longer felt like sandpaper in her mouth.

She reached for one of the waters, halting immediately when her raised arm shifted the blanket off her very naked shoulder.

With a gasp, she snatched the edge of the blanket, pulled it up to her neck and leveled a fierce glare on the man.

“Where are my clothes?!” she croaked. Water would absolutely be necessary if she was going to ask all her questions.

“You didn’t…we can’t…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pausing to glance down when he pulled free a small handful of pine needles, which he tossed onto the floor.

With a shake of his head, he continued, “By your feet, there’s a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

They’ll probably be too big, but it’s all I have. ”

Syve lifted her head again, looking down to see a pile of gray fabric.

The man cleared his throat. “I’ll step out for a minute so you can get dressed. I know you have to have a million and twelve questions. I promise I’ll answer as many as I can.”

He looked at her a moment longer, likely assessing whether or not he could safely turn his back on her, then slipped out the door.

Syve remained where she was, blinking and staring for another thirty seconds before bursting to her feet to savagely yank on the clothes.

He was right—they were massive on her. The pants pooled at her feet, and even after cinching and tying them at the waist, they still threatened to slip down.

She sloppily rolled up the sleeves of the hoodie until her hands were uncovered.

There was nothing to be done about her bare feet .

Modesty restored, she took in her surroundings, noting the concrete walls covered in plaques, each accompanied by a small vase filled with dried flowers.

Oil lanterns hung evenly from the ceiling, and three stained glass windows, a small one on either side of the door and one large rectangular one above the bench she had woken up on, served as the only light source.

Dark wood embellished with iron made up the large door that sat slightly ajar, the only way in or out of this… tomb.

Syve felt every last drop of blood in her body run cold as it finally dawned on her.

This was a mausoleum.

Mausoleums were in cemeteries.

She was in a cemetery.

The cemetery.

It was like being kicked in the chest—all oxygen ripped from her lungs, and new air refused to take its place. Avoiding this place had been her top priority, she could not be here. Not in this place.

Not now.

Not alone.

Not alone.

Not. Alone.

Two large hands gripped her shoulders.

“Hey, hey! Are you okay?”

“Wh—where…where…” Her voice did not sound like her own. She sounded like she was underwater .

“A mausoleum, we’re in a mausoleum. We’re still in Timberfall, in the cemetery. I didn’t know where else to take you…”

She already knew, but the confirmation wrapped around her neck, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it pulsing in her ears. Her skin itched. It itched, and all she wanted to do was crawl out of it—crawl out and run away.

“SYVE!” Hands on her face forced her to focus on gray eyes.

“Syve, look at me. Look at me, you’re not alone, it’s okay.

Breathe.” This close she could see the depth of color in his gaze; gray alone was not accurate.

All the videos she had watched of melted aluminum sprang to the forefront of her mind.

In all of her life she had never seen such a unique pair of eyes.

And then they blinked.

Mystery man was taking deep, exaggerated breaths—breaths she had at some point began to copy.

“I can’t be here.” A whisper. “I can’t—I haven’t—not since…since…” The whisper morphed into a whimper with each word, and she felt a sting behind her eyes. Dark brows knit together, blurring when she blinked.

“You haven’t? Haven’t been here? What do you mean?” Another blink to clear her vision, watching as he searched her eyes. Confusion was clear on his face. “You’ve been here a lot. Syve, you’ve been here every night—every night for months.”

Blink .

Snow crunching under deft hooves.

Blink.

Full moon peeking through the clouds.

Blink, blink .

Those stormy eyes haloed by silver fur.

Blink, blink, blink .

That silver fur chasing. Trees blurring. Water. The lake. A growl then she was falling.

Syve gasped, pulling away from the man and slipping her hands up to her face where his had just been. He remained there with his hands up, he’d done this before, he ducked his head slightly—a gesture to assure her he meant no harm.

“Who are you? What…how? Did I? Is this real?” She rasped, her throat even more dry than it had already been.

“I think you should sit. Sit and drink some water, I’ll give you answers—all the ones I can, at least.” He gestured behind her at the bench before sliding down to the floor himself, once again leaning against the wall opposite to her.

Eyes wide, she sucked in a breath and fell onto the bench.