Page 9 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)
Syve
Scraps covered the counter and floor as Syve expertly cut various patterns from a stack of jewel-toned fabrics.
There were only four months left to have her application completed for the grant, and as of this morning, she only had three of the required pieces done.
It had taken her the better part of the last two months to settle on which designs she wanted to use.
She’d forgotten her sketchbook was nearly full, with as many as three or four designs on any single page.
The application required ten finished products, all crafted by the applicant, to be used to judge her level of skill and determine a general idea of the wares which would be sold by the business.
Narrowing roughly two-hundred designs down to ten had been a nightmare.
Setting the scissors down, she stood to stretch her legs and flexed her hands.
If she wasn’t careful, she would end up with a severe case of carpal tunnel.
Cutting was the least favorite part of her craft, so she preferred to get it all done in one go.
Sighing, she walked to the front of the shop and flopped down onto the sofa.
The action was enough to cause her hair tie to lose the battle it had been fighting all afternoon and fall from her head, her hair cascading in a messy copper curtain around her.
Syve had been spending the majority of her spare time reading through her mother’s journals.
Currently she was up to her sixth birthday, and she had learned two things.
The journals were being kept a secret from her father, and—after years of trying—Isla had given up all hope of having any more children.
There was not a clear reason as to why the journals were being hidden, but Isla was convinced her fertility issues were due to ‘incompatible genetics’ and Syve had less than half a clue what that was supposed to mean.
Dearest Syve, I’m keeping a secret, my girl, one your father doesn’t know.
I started out keeping this secret to protect myself and your Nan.
You know that before I met Rich, it was only her and I.
It wasn’t just my secret to keep and after a while it started to feel like I waited too long to share it.
I was scared. I was scared I was going to lose him and I was scared of what could happen if it got out.
See, I had these friends once. They knew—shared—this secret, and when Rich and I were planning to get married they convinced me to tell him.
They told me “if I ever wanted to have children with this man, it would be something he needed to know.” Unfortunately, before I had the chance to say anything, my friends were gone.
Dead. Taken from the world because of that very secret I’d been about to share with your father.
Someone figured it out, and they were killed because of it.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t risk it. Nan would be in danger, and Rich, just for knowing, would be too.
There is only one problem, my sweet girl.
Those friends were right, and it’s very possible this may yet be your secret too.
Stars above, if that’s how your father figures it out…
I pray to whatever gods are listening you take after your father, little fawn, because I could not live with myself if it put you and him in danger. More than all the stars in the sky, Mom
Syve let the journal fall to her lap as her face twisted in confusion. She did not think her mom could have left a more cryptic message if she tried. What on Earth could she possibly have been hiding that had gotten her friends killed ?
Lyrics to FRIENDS by Marshmello and Anne-Marie rang out from Syve’s phone, breaking the silence.
Quickly digging the device from the pocket of her jeans, she glanced at the screen before laughing out loud.
The photo ID was a picture of Aimi flipping off the camera, sticking her tongue out and the name at the top of the screen was ‘Nein, Gunny!’.
She was never going to be able to leave her phone unattended around her best friend ever again.
Clearing her throat and choking down her laughter she answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey Doll,” Gunther drawled. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Syve sighed, rolling her head to the side before answering.
“What can I help you with, Gunther?” she asked dryly.
“I need you to come over—tomorrow, after work.”
“Uh, why?”
“Does a man need a reason to ask a girl to come over? I can throw some chicken on the grill; you can get in the kitchen and whip up some of that onion pasta you always make—”
“Gunther,” Syve interrupted. “I don’t eat chicken. And it’s leek, not onion”
“Fine, fine. I’ve got some trout in the fridge. We can have that instead.”
Syve closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was starting to think this man did not know what being a vegetarian meant .
“Gunther, I have plans with the girls tomorrow night. I’m sorry.”
Gunther sighed dramatically on the other end of the line. “Syve, I’m trying to do you a favor here, but alright,” he relented. “Have a good night with Aims and that tall girl.”
“Cameron,” Syve interjected.
“Sure. I’ll call you later.” He hung up before she could respond.
The rest of her day was spent between cutting fabric, pinning patterns, and reading page after page of her mother’s words.
When she finally closed the shop and went upstairs, she had two more designs fully pinned, ready to sew, and she knew absolutely nothing more about her so-called ‘family secret’.
The sound of crunching snow and a soft huff told her the wolf was back in its usual spot— at the foot of Noah’s grave.
She still thought it odd that it was there, though she had zero motivation to ask why.
It was not like she was going to find one of those ‘dream decrypting’ websites to tell her what a lingering wolf could possibly mean.
If it was a bad omen, she would rather not know—not that she had much left to fear from bad luck.
Silent as always, her furry companion sat as still as the stones around them and watched her .
After laying against the cold stone long enough for her limbs to feel stiff and numb, she groaned, digging her hooves into the snow to stand.
With a quick shake to clear herself of any snow that clung to her coat, Syve moved toward her silver furred companion, or more so the gate behind them.
When she stepped past the wolf, she could have sworn she felt it touch her, a quick brush of its nose as she breezed past. While a part of her noted the sensation as new and intimidating, the rest of her could not be bothered and she kept walking.
It was not until she was stepping into the street that the hairs stood up along her spine, forcing her to glance over her shoulder. The wolf was trailing her, albeit at a distance, but it was clearly following her nonetheless. Maybe she ought to look into dream reading after all.
Cameron squealed, holding up a small hooded poncho.
“Lord help me, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Syve laughed at her friend as she pulled a similarly sized pair of overalls off of a child-sized dress form.
The poncho was made from dark gray cotton duck canvas with a polyester lining and had an additional fleece layer that could be attached with a zipper to add extra warmth for the colder months.
It sported a matching, removable hood, and little arm slits on either side held shut with little, sewn in magnets—strong enough to keep the seam together to ward off the wind, but not so strong as to keep a child from pushing past them to get their arms free.
Cameron was right, it was possibly the cutest thing and Syve was incredibly proud of how it turned out.
“Did you notice the pockets?” Syve asked, laughing again when her friend finally found the interior pockets with another bout of squeals. “Kids need pockets…for rocks,” she added with a shrug.
“As soon as you’re done with this application, I’m going to demand a set of these!” Cam squealed again.
“Jesus, Girl, chill!” Aimi chided as she snatched the poncho from Cameron’s hands and set to folding it. “We both know she has to make me an adult sized one first! Bright pink, obviously.” She screeched, ducking when Cam threw one of her boots.
“You two are out of control.” Syve smiled and rolled her eyes at her friends. “I can make everyone a poncho if I get that grant.”
“When,” both girls replied at the same time before turning to each other and nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, yeah. Now where is this wine at? Pretty sure when you came down here and disturbed my work you told me there was wine. And those fancy pretzels I like.” Syve goaded her friends with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised .
“It’s upstairs, and probably warm by now, you workaholic,” Aimi whined.
“No, I left it on the porch in the snow!” Cam bragged. “I knew better and there was just enough snow to cover all but the neck of the bottle! Kismet.” Cam sighed the last bit dreamily, causing Syve to roll her eyes and scoff playfully.
“Cameron Jo, you brilliant bitch—” Aimi cut herself off by stepping up to Cam, grabbing her face with both hands and planting a big, wet kiss on her cheek. “I think your husband doesn’t deserve you.”
Cameron guffawed and pushed Aimi away. “Oh, that reminds me! What’s up with the paw prints? Have you been feeding strays again?”
“It was one time! I thought the cat was homeless! How was I supposed to know I was being played by the cute little bastard?” Syve huffed in mock offense. “But wait, what do you mean? I haven’t even seen any strays lately.”
“You know? The prints all up and down the back porch and stairs?” Cam asked, confusion evident in her tone, and on her face. Syve stared at her for a minute before turning and walking straight to the stairwell leading to her loft.
“What the hell?” she muttered to herself moments later, standing on her back porch.
True enough, there were paw prints, big paw prints, leading up the stairs, around the porch, and then back down before disappearing in the shadows down the alley.
Syve instantly thought of her dream the night before, about how the wolf had followed her.
She’d woken up from that dream and gone straight down to the shop, unable to go back to sleep.
It must have been four in the morning before she shuffled back to bed, but she had noticed the fresh snow covering the porch when she walked by the window.
At some point between four AM, when she had returned to bed, and now, half past six at night, some canine had tromped all over.
Syve’s first thought was how she would not be able to finish her clothing line while on the grippy sock vacation she would surely be taking for suggesting that the creatures from her dreams were stalking her.
Maybe I need the vacation, she thought .