Page 49 of Forget Me Not
After casting a quick glance over her shoulder, noting the many windows along the back side of the house, she took a few more steps into the woods. A low chuff behind her made her turn, walking backward as she looked.
“I’m not going far, just trying to get a little privacy.”
With an exaggerated nod, he turned to face the house. She smiled widely at his back, then side-stepped behind a fairly large tree—not quite big enough to shield her entirely, but it was better than nothing.
Quickly, she slipped out of her clothes, hastily folding them and dropping the pile by her feet. She shivered, it was not exactly a cold day in May, but the light breeze paired with the shade from the canopy of branches left her naked body to collect goosebumps. The violent swirl in her stomach wasn’t helping either.
Syve shook her arms out, leaving them to hang by her side, palms out. She rolled her neck from side to side, then with a long exhale she closed her eyes and recalled Bastien’s words.
Close your eyes.
Check.
Take slow, deep breaths.
Check.
Imagine yourself melting away into a puddle.
She let her shoulders slump, imagining water trickling from her head, down her neck…over her shoulders…along her arms, until it dripped from her fingertips. She sank into the metaphorical pool gathering at her feet, sinking deeper until only her head remained above the surface. Then she tipped that back, surrendering.
Relax all of your muscles and then imagine stretching up out of that puddle, changed.
Syve pictured herself rising from the water, pulled gently upward by an invisible rope.
She could almost imagine that the ghostly tingling she felt on her limbs was from millions of tiny hairs growing along her body.
That was all Bastien had told her to do, so she opened her eyes.
When the landscape around her came back into focus, she deflated. Nothing looked different, nothingfeltdifferent.
Playing ice-cube-in-a-sauna was surprisingly peaceful, sure, and she would be keeping that exercise filed away for the next time she was stressed out—but it appeared to be useless for shifting.
She opened her mouth to say just as much to Bas, but jolted when all that came out was a pitiful bleat. She snapped her head down, looking at her legs—legs in the plural sense of four and not two.
Holy shit.
She did it.
What she did not do was account for her new center of balance. Or how operating her animal form was far more difficult now, than when she had been running in primal-flight mode the last time she had seen his wolf. One second, shewas countinghoovesand reveling in her success, the next she was crying out as she went ass over teakettle into the dirt.
Bastien
Patiently,hewaitedwithhis back to the woods. Syve made it clear she did not want him to see her strip, and the least he could do was respect that.
He jumped when he heard, what he could only describe as, one of those toy cans that mooed when you inverted it.
He was still questioning whether or not he was imagining things when he heard the sound again, followed by a loud thud. He risked a glance back toward Syve to find the doe flipped on her back, legs tangled over her body.
If it was possible to laugh in his current form, he would have been in hysterics. Instead, he chuffed and shook his head.
The look in her eyes screamed excitement. Apparently, she was just as impressed as he was that she had gotten the hang of things so quickly.
Bastien trotted over to Syve as she gracelessly flopped onto her stomach, and he stood beside her for support as she stood on shaky legs. She leaned into him for a beat as she found her balance. When he no longer felt her weight, he swung around to stand in front of her. When he caught her attention, he wagged his tail, dropped into a playful bow, and then hopped a few yards away. She seemed to understand his intentions, and after a handful of wobbly steps, she started bounding toward him—looking very much like a drunken rabbit.
The two carried on this way—him chasing her and her chasing him—until Syve pulled ahead and slipped out of sight, bursting past the brush edging the lake. Bastien followed a second behind. When he leapt from the woods, skidding to a stop beside her, he startled a small herd of deer that had been drinking from the crystal water. The lone buck had been approaching Syve—an act that spawned a low growl in Bastien’s throat. He scolded himself for the act of possessiveness he had no right to show, let alone feel.
Together, the shifters watched as the does urged their spotted fawns into the trees opposite them, the buck the last to disappear after casting one last perplexed look in Syve’s direction.
