Page 2 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)

Bastien

Everyone is familiar with the theory that twins have a special connection, one which transcends human understanding—twin telepathy, they call it. Bastien and Desiderio were a prime example of said connection, and the entire Yerovi family would be willing to agree.

There were multiple different occasions over the years in which the two men acted as one.

Such as when they turned twelve and gifted each other the same video game, or when they were seventeen and had gotten in trouble at school—even though they were separated immediately for questioning, they had both told the exact same lie as a cover story .

This particular day had been no different. Bas had woken up just knowing Dez was coming home. He had hit the floor running and ripped open the door just in time to see his brother turning his gaudy Jeep into the drive.

“Dez!” Bas called out, jogging across the concrete barefoot and in nothing but shorts.

“Hey, Brother,” Dez returned, stepping down out of his seat and reaching out to pull Bas in for a hug.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but uh…What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had some PTO to burn and instead of going to Cancun or some shit like a normal person, I decided to drive my happy ass all the way back here to this tiny little shit-hole town to see your ugly face.” He barked a laugh, smiling as he took a playful hit to the shoulder.

“Nice scruff, by the way,” Dez teased, scratching Bastien’s lightly stubbled chin.

“Alright, smart ass,” Bas huffed, knocking his brother’s hand aside. “Let’s go wake Del and when she leaves for school—”

“We run?”

“We run.”

An hour later, after their mother screamed, cried and threw her slipper at Dez, and they had seen their little sister off to school, the twins were jumping down the back steps, tearing off their shirts—leaving them wherever they landed in the yard.

They both leapt as they hit the tree line, shifting with ease from years of practice, before they hit the ground and shook out their fur.

Bas stretched, sniffing the air and baring his teeth in a wolfish smile as the wind blew through his silver fur.

A huff drew his attention down to his brother.

Dez was prancing from paw to paw, his obsidian fur like a black hole, not glistening or reflecting any light at all.

His copper eyes twinkled with mischief as he spun and bolted into the woods.

It took only a split second before Bas was tearing through the brush after him.

Timberfall was nestled between Custer Gallatin National Forest and Yellowstone, just north of the Wyoming border.

Bastien had been ecstatic when they found this little house tucked up against the trees, it was perfect for a family of shifters—protected lands with plenty of wildlife to provide cover, in case they were seen.

Spotting a wolf outside a National Park was a lot easier to explain than say, Central Park.

There were not many places left for them to live that they could hide in plain sight.

Dez had gotten lucky when he was accepted into Wesleyan University. While the red wolf population in North Carolina was devastatingly low, and his black wolf did not perfectly blend in, it was still easier to explain when a trail camera, or rather lucky photographer, managed to capture a photo.

Fifteen minutes later, the two spilled out of the trees, slowing to a stop on the southern edge of a small, oblong mountain lake.

The trip had taken them three times as long as it would have if they’d run a straight line.

Naturally, the brothers had taken turns tackling each other and wrestling playfully along the way.

Aside from the occasional ripples caused by the wind or fish feeding, the water was calm, reflecting the clouds above perfectly—a window to a mirrored world.

Small enough that Bas could see the entire surrounding shore, the lake could not have been more than two football fields across and was completely surrounded by tall, thin lodgepole pine trees.

An acrid smell blew in on the breeze, reminiscent of the old, cheap cigars their father used to smoke.

Bas flinched, the hairs on the back of his neck rising and a sense of foreboding that he could not quite explain overtook him as he began to frantically scan the woods.

He could see Dez out of the corner of his eye; he had moved further from the trees, obviously contemplating getting in the water.

During his third pass of the trees around them, he noticed it—the quick glint of the sun off of…

metal? Glass? Squinting, he searched for the source.

His blood ran cold as his eyes landed on the shape of a man moving ever so slightly just inside the tree line.

A scope. The glint had come from the scope of a rifle the man had shouldered. Bas turned his head, following the line of the barrel, until his eyes met his brother's.

Time froze.

Dez cocked his head to the side, completely oblivious to the impending threat, and then thunder cracked through the clearing.

But it was not thunder.

Dez howled in pain as his body dropped, his rear leg bloody and twisting at an unnatural angle.

Bas dove toward his twin, whining as he slipped his nose under Dez’ shoulder in an attempt to push him up.

A second shot rang out, dirt flying up only a foot away from where the two wolves were, the bullet having gone just over their backs.

Dez snapped at Bastien’s legs, growling while tossing his head toward the trees. The message was clear.

Go.

Run.

Bastien bared his teeth in return, ignoring the order and trying again to shove his shoulder under Dez’ neck for support.

They only needed to make it ten yards to the trees to have cover—if he could buy his brother time to shift, he could carry him home.

Shifting injured was nearly impossible and incredibly risky, but their options were limited and getting more so by the second, they had to try.

Dez bit into Bastien’s neck, using the hold to toss him aside before snarling, blood dripping from his teeth.

A third shot.

Dez’ jaw slackened, his body slumped forward and one long exhale left his chest.

Bastien jolted upright with a yell, tears streaming down his face, chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached a hand up to the rough scar across his collarbone. A permanent reminder of the nightmare he lived and the only physical connection that remained between him and his twin.

The wind tore at his body, and in that moment, he was more thankful than usual for the thick fur keeping him warm.

He could hardly see more than twenty yards ahead, forced instead to rely on his nose and memory as a guide through the trees.

Running in a snowstorm was something Bastien normally avoided—if only because stripping to shift in the blistering wind threatened to freeze his balls off.

It had been a while since he’d woken in a cold sweat, tormented by memories. The only thing that seemed to numb the pain was running until his legs gave out, or reading. So, here he was, barreling through the frigid woods toward his secret hideaway.

The snowfall began to lighten, revealing the silhouettes of tombstones and marking his destination.

Tucked in the back corner of the graveyard was a small mausoleum—that was where he was headed.

For as long as Bastien had been skulking around, there had been no signs that anyone still visited its occupants.

So, after the third time he found himself standing in the empty tomb on his quest for silence, he came up with a plan.

He started by stopping in during the day to stash clothes—ensuring his next midnight visit would not consist of him hanging around stark naked—and a book.

After a few months, he had pants, snacks, a few books and matches for the oil lamps that were hung from the ceiling— all tucked into a plastic tote that he kept under the stone bench.

Figuring out those lamps had a finite amount of oil had been an adventure all on its own.

The lamps had burnt out once when he had only a few pages left, forcing him to leave the main character face-to-face with a dragon.

The next morning, before going to work, he added to his little hoard: a battery operated lantern and a small reading light.

A mournful cry shattered the silence, sending every hair along Bastien’s spine standing on end.

Still barely out of the trees, he crouched into a low, defensive stance and crept along the shadows, searching for the source of the heart-breaking wail.

A large marble angel stood sentinel amid the dead, her sightless eyes staring straight through to the core as he crept closer, using her flowing, stone robes to conceal his canine body.

He peered past the harp held down at the statue’s side, startling when his eyes locked on a figure not even five yards away.

Blinking rapidly, unsure if what he saw was real or some sleep-deprived hallucination, he continued to gaze at the scene before him.

Her song of sorrow was the only reason Bastien had not completely overlooked her.

With a coat as gray as the old concrete sidewalk running through town and her body pressed tightly to the headstone, the doe was practically invisible.

He remained, a voyeur incapable of stepping away, as the minutes wore on.

The doe continued to lean against the granite until her wailing eventually wound down to soft whimpers.

Then, without warning, she simply stood and gently stepped his way.

Bastien froze, panicking, trying to determine where he could possibly move to remain unseen.

Later he would need to unpack this interaction, why he felt so compelled to stay with her.

Why the thought of her seeing him—of her being frightened by his presence—made his chest ache.

With mere seconds to spare, he managed to snap out of his petrified stupor and slink backward, effectively keeping the divine shield between himself and the mysterious deer.

She strode past him as if in a trance; not taking her eyes off the front gate until she was on the outside, and even then only turning her gaze to the buildings across the street.

Bastien continued to watch as she mindlessly bound across the road toward the alley.

He turned his head to check that he was now alone and when he looked back, she was gone.

With careful steps around the eternal beds of strangers, Bastien approached the doe’s stone.

Noah June 3rd 2016 - December 5th 2017 Sleep sweet, until again we meet.