The Art of Mending Memories

The Art of Mending Memories 24

The Art of Mending Memories

Chapter 24

I took a left, double-checking the directions Cassy had given me. She didn't have her own car, so we agreed I would drive. I was a little nervous driving into the newly developed part of town. Three new neighborhoods had been made the previous year, and it was where the majority of the werewolves moved in.

Cassy lived at the end of the neighborhood. She had a small, square, white house, with flowers bordering between the green lawn and the house.

I parked and walked up the brick path to her front door. I knocked.

A woman in her early forties opened the door. She had the same light brown, mostly straight hair as Cassy. Her skin was pale, whereas Cassy's was more neutral. The woman has friendly hazel eyes and was wearing a welcoming smile. She had the regular dim red glow of a werewolf.

"Hi," the woman beamed. "You must be Kaelyn." I nodded. "I'm Cassy's mother. Why don't you come in? Cassy will be right down." The woman turned and left.

"Thanks," I said, stepping into the house.

The entryway had a wooden floor, and turned directly into a hallway. To my right were two closed doors. To my left was a living room. From my angle I could see a bookshelf, a couch, and toys resting upon a white carpet.

A boy poked his head out of the living room door. He was young, probably about six years old. He had blond hair so light, it was nearly white. He was holding a Winnie-the-Pooh bear and wearing corduroy overalls over a baby blue shirt. He was staring at me with a mixture of awe, fear, and fascination.

The glow emitting from his skin was a red-orange, much like Cassy's, but more orange. It was almost as if he weren't a full shifter, or that has parents ̶ Cassy's parents ̶ were two different species.

I kneeled down in front of him. "Hi," I said in a friendly voice. "My name is Kaelyn. What's yours?"

He clutched Winnie-the-Pooh tighter to him and opened his eyes in fear.

Something caught in my throat as I looked at him. He feared me. It was such a novel concept to me, that I had no idea how to respond to it. I knew he turned into the same animal ̶ or one very similar to it ̶ as Aaron, the werewolves, and the monsters who hurt me eight years ago, but I couldn't feel any negative feelings toward the little boy. I felt like he needed my protection, just as I felt Cassy needed my protection.

I smiled at him. "You know," I told him, "I love Winnie-the-Pooh. He's my favorite bear. I used to watch that show all the time when I was your age."

His expression turned defensive. "Mine," he stated, turning the bear away from me.

I chuckled. "I'm not going to take anything from you. I'm sure Pooh is very lucky to have a friend like you."

"I'm his best friend," the little boy informed me. "And he's my best friend. We do everything together."

"Like what?"

"We go for walks. And eat together. And sleep on the same room. And play together."

"Wow," I smiled, "he seems like the best of friends."

"Yeah," he said, "but he's also friends with Tigger."

"I know Tigger. Is he here?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "I'll go get him." He ran into the living room, returning with a Tigger stuffed animal in his arms next to Pooh. "This is Tigger," he said, holding out the tiger to be.

I gently took the toy he was offering me. I held the tiger so he was facing the boy. "Let's bounce!" I quoted. The little werewolf boy laughed. Encouraged, I sang, "The wonderful thing about tiggers is tiggers are a wonderful thing!" The little boy laughed. He no longer looked at me in fear.