Page 37 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)
Syve
Soriah stood wringing her hands in the doorway as they came through the trees. Instead of rushing to her son, she surprised Syve by turning instead and disappearing into the house, hollering for Delanira as she went.
Cyrus carried them all the way to the door before shifting—likely because he wouldn’t fit through the door otherwise.
Grizzly one moment, man the next and somehow managing to spin and catch Bastien before he could hit the hardwood.
Syve was not afforded such luxury, and landed in a heap.
Cy slipped into the house leaving her to scramble after him .
Fabric covered her face the second her feet hit the tiled floor. Del grimaced apologetically, arm still outstretched from her toss but said nothing before turning into the kitchen.
Syve followed the young girl, stopping in the doorway to slip the T-shirt on. As worried as she was for Bastien, she knew she would only be in the way right now, and there was no point in standing around cold and naked.
Papers, spices and other miscellaneous objects lay on the floor, evidence that the table was swept clean in a rush.
Cyrus, who had thankfully donned pants of his own, was leaning over the table and the eerily-still wolf that lay on top of it.
On the other end of the table Soriah was working quickly, shooting off orders to Del who was at her side with an arm full of various first aid equipment. Tirelessly, the women worked as Syve slid to the floor, leaning against the door frame, unblinking as she observed.
Sometime later, exactly how long she had no idea, Soriah sank into a chair, head tipped back as she heaved a deep breath. “ Osito , can you get him to bed without jostling him too much?”
Cy nodded sharply, grunted in Del’s direction, which must have translated to something about the bandages because the girl dove in, laying a hand gingerly over the gauze that wrapped around Bastien’s body .
Syve stood, helping Soriah from her chair when the older woman flagged her over, and together they ascended the stairs.
“The bleeding has stopped. It was through and through, thank God. If it wasn’t for the shifter healing, I doubt he would have made it home. Now all we can do is wait,” Soriah said, voice barely above a whisper.
They were circled around the massive bed, Bastien still in wolf form laying in the middle looking every bit out of place.
“Why is he still…why didn’t he change?” Syve questioned, her words were stiff, her mouth dry and her body drained from exertion.
“It’s a conscious act, shifting. If you go to sleep, lose consciousness or…” Cyrus audibly swallowed. “You stay as you were. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to shift right now even if he were awake, we don’t know if it would interrupt the healing—it could make it worse for all we know.”
Syve thought back to Bastien’s brother, a light bulb flickering to life in the back of her mind.
Bastien had mentioned they had never been able to recover Dez’ body, and she initially thought that meant the carrion had gotten to it before they could return but no.
Now she understood it was more likely he was taken as a trophy. She wanted to vomit.
“What happened out there?” It was Del who finally asked.
“We went for a run. We were…sitting by the lake when he mentioned a smell—tobacco? He got angry. I’ve never seen him angry. He shifted, tore off into the woods…I barely mana ged to catch up before…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.
“By the time I got there they were already fighting. I think…I think he recognized the smell. I think it was the same man. The poacher…”
She did not finish the thought. She didn’t have to.
Yelling, Cyrus turned, kicking the dresser hard enough for everything on top to rattle before stomping to the door.
“ Osito , don’t be reckless,” Soriah warned.
“Stay with him, Mama,” he answered without turning back. Then he was gone, the back door slamming a few seconds later.
“I’m sorry. He was gone, the man, when Cyrus and I got back. I should have checked; I was just so…I panicked, I couldn’t carry him, I thought…” Syve stammered, stopping only when Soriah placed a warm palm to her cheek, shushing her.
“Sweet girl, you saved my son. Thank you.” She patted Syve’s cheek a few times then beckoned Del to follow her. “I’m going to get you some water, and something warm to drink.”
Silence crashed into her as the door snicked shut and she sank onto the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the wolf-man resting there.
She reached out, fingers threading through the thick fur of Bastien’s back leg.
Beneath her hand she felt his muscles twitch, and with a soft whine he began to stir.
Syve jumped up, moving closer to his head with only a fleeting worry for approaching the sharp teeth of a wounded animal.
She slid a hand along his muzzle, over his head and down to the side of his neck where she burrowed her fingers through the hairs to his skin, shushing him as she went.
“I’m here, it’s alright. I’m here,” she cooed.
At the sound of her voice Bastien’s eyelids fluttered a few times. Suddenly, soft vibrations rippled up through Syve’s hand.
“No, no, no! Bastien, don’t do that!” She panicked when she realized what was happening, but it was too late—he was barely conscious anyway.
“Shit, dammit, okay.” She scrambled to the foot of the bed, snatched up the blanket that had been folded there and haphazardly threw it over the bottom half of Bas’ now very naked human body.
“Syve.” Her name fell from his lips so quietly she almost missed it.
“Here, I’m here.”
His eyes were still closed; brows furrowed in pain.
Gently she reached out and smoothed the sweat slicked hair from his forehead.
He visibly relaxed under her touch, so she left her cool hand on his warm skin while reaching with the opposite to check his bandages.
Blood had seeped through the now loose and ill placed bandages, informing her that his shift had done exactly as Cyrus predicted—agitated the wound .
Copying Soriah’s actions, as best she could, Syve replaced the wrapping with fresh bandages, taking advantage of the hairless patient and taping everything down so she would not have to roll him.
That would have to do for now, she would have Soriah double check it when she came back—leaving his side for even a breath was not an option.
“I swear, as soon as you’re healed, I’m gonna beat your ass. You’re in the doghouse for the rest of the century for scaring me like that.”
She sat back on the edge of the bed, holding his hand as she gave him a watery scolding. Bastien remained unconscious, panting softly in his sleep.
“Please be okay,” she whispered to the quiet room. “I love you.”
By the time Soriah returned, Syve was asleep—curled on the bed, facing Bastien, his hand tucked between both of hers beneath her tear-stained cheek. Soriah set a glass of water on the nightstand, checked her son’s bandages, then gently tugged his blanket over Syve as well.