Page 47 of Fat Forced Mate

I rest my hand briefly on my stomach, a gesture that's becoming habitual.

"Hang in there," I whisper, so quietly even the dust doesn't stir. “I know research is boring, but we can do this.”

The confrontation with Nic after the Council meeting yesterday still lingers in my mind. The way he stood so close, his scent enveloping me, his eyes darkening when I challenged him. For a moment, I'd thought he might—

I force myself out of thoughts like that. I can't afford to dwell on moments that lead nowhere. Not with everything at stake.

I turn another page, and a name catches my eye.Morgan. My parents' name, appearing in a record of pack contributions. Curiosity piqued, I lean closer.

Elara and Michael Morgan commended for their work strengthening the eastern boundary defenses.

Nothing more. Just a brief notation in an old pack meeting record from sixteen years ago. But it's enough to sendmy thoughts spinning. My parents died defending pack borders, according to Victoria. But what exactly had they been working on?

I close the book carefully, decision made. If I want answers about my parents, I know where to start.

***

"You want to know about Mom and Dad's stuff?" James looks surprised when I corner him outside the pack building later that afternoon. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Found their names in the records," I explain, following him inside. "They were working on pack defenses before they died—you probably remember it better than I do. I'm curious."

His cabin smells like him—pine and earth and coffee. It's comforting in its familiarity, a rare point of stability in the chaos my life has become.

"I kept a few things," he admits, heading toward a narrow staircase. "Wait here."

I wander around his living room while he rummages in the attic, taking in the few personal touches—a photo of us as children, a carved wolf figurine Mom made him for his tenth birthday. Small reminders of the family we once were.

James returns carrying a small wooden box, its surface worn smooth with age and handling.

"Found this after they died," he says, placing it on the coffee table. "Never could bring myself to get rid of it."

The box is simple but beautiful, carved with intertwining vines that I recognize as our mother's work. I run my fingersover the pattern, feeling a faint echo of her magic lingering in the wood.

"Take it," James says gruffly. "It should be yours anyway. Mom was the one with the witch blood."

I lift the lid carefully. Inside rests a leather-bound journal, a few pressed flowers, and a small silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

"Thank you," I whisper, throat suddenly tight.

James shrugs, uncomfortable with the emotion hanging in the air.

"Let me know if you find anything interesting." His tone is casual, but his eyes betray his curiosity.

I tuck the box under my arm. "I will."

Back in my temporary quarters, I curl up on the window seat with my mother's journal. The leather cover is soft beneath my fingers, worn at the edges from frequent handling. My mother's neat handwriting fills the pages, familiar enough to make my chest ache with sudden longing.

Most entries are mundane—notes on herb cultivation, recipes for healing salves, observations about seasonal changes. But about halfway through, the tone shifts.

April 18, 2009

Michael believes we've found a way to integrate the traditional ward markers with my protection spells. The theory is sound—shifter blood magic combined with elemental bindings should create a ‘hybrid’ defense system stronger than either tradition alone. Victoria is cautiously supportive, though some Elders remain skeptical about using witch magic so prominently in pack defenses.

I trace the words with my fingertip, imagining my mother writing them, not knowing she had only months to live.

May 3, 2009

More strange activity at the eastern boundary. Michael says the wolf tracks are wrong somehow, distorted, as if the wolves making them were... twisted. He's convinced it's some local pack—the Cheslem Pack—testing our defenses, though most believe they were wiped out decades ago. We've reinforced the ward markers there, but I'm uneasy.

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