Forbidden: Book One of Wild Sky Saga

FORBIDDEN

Book one of Wild Sky Saga

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Forbidden

About the
Author

Copyright

Dedication

To my three beautiful children. Whose love I am so, so thankful for every single
day.

Acknowledgments

I have a lot of people to thank — my family, my children, and my friends who stood by me from day one. Throughout the process, every time I wanted to throw in the towel these people pushed me forward and kept me going. I cannot thank these people enough. I want to thank my editor, Ann Westlake of Writer’s Cramp Editing Consultants. She is amazing. She pulled things out of me without me even knowing, and if it hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t have rewritten my book, and many of my favorite scenes wouldn’t be in it. I’m so thankful to have found her and to have her in my life. Zoe Simmons, the contest coordinator at the International Page Awards is an amazing and patient woman. She convinced me to not give up on my story. She spent time and through many emails, helped me to write the back cover text. James Mehl took the beautiful cover picture. As soon as I saw it I knew it was what I wanted. I also want to thank The City of the Fallen for allowing me to use their song “Gabriel” to help promote my book. And last, I want to thank the people who helped me get my book edited and published. You can’t know how grateful I am. To all of you, thank you so very much for being there for me — my Wild Sky
tribe.

Forbidden

Aira, in a sweat, opened her eyes to the sound of her alarm. She swore it was one of the most unsympathetic sounds ever invented by man. Though it probably wouldn’t have been that bad if she hadn’t of just fallen asleep only a few hours prior, something that seemed to be happening a lot the past couple of months. These constant recurring nightmares had more than a lot to do with
it.

What made this particular morning worse – it was the first day in over two months since she actually had to wake up to its dreadful sound. It was clear, her summer was now officially
over.

Defying the orders of her alarm to get up and embrace the day, Aira turned the alarm off and pulled the blanket over her
head.

Her phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand next to her bed, making its way to the edge. Still hidden under her blanket, she grabbed her phone, and knowing it enough without looking, turned it on to speaker phone. It was her best friend
Avery.

“I’ve been up for over an hour, what are you doing?” Avery was obnoxiously moving the phone around and dropping
things.

“Sleeping?”

“Well, get out of bed, you’ve had all summer to sleep. It’s our last year of school and we’re going to enjoy it.” Avery was an over
enthusiast.

Avery’s parents had moved to this small and unpretentious town in the middle of the school year when she was just five. There was a high demand for doctors here, and her father needed a
job.

Though this town was ordinary, it was one of the most beautiful places you could imagine. With a population just over six thousand, Hope, B.C. was named the chainsaw carving capital of Canada. Located at the eastern end of both the Fraser Valley and Lower Mainland region, it was nestled inside the surrounding beauty of the Cascade Mountains and both the Fraser and the Coquihalla rivers. (The sound of those rivers, if you closed your eyes, could somehow calm almost any disturbance you had inside
yourself.)

The weather was always very sporadic. It could never seem to make up its mind, and usually when it did, its gloom hovered and rain reached to make its way everywhere. Everything then seemed to look greener, calmer. When the sun did decide to show its face, the town became alive
and almost magical. The way the sun danced off the leaves of the populous trees was
breathtaking.

It was definitely something, though, that Avery and her family had had to get used to. It was a lot different from the fast-paced life of Mississauga,
Ontario.

Aira still remembered in kindergarten when Avery had walked into the small classroom on that rainy day in March. Aira had been drawing something, she was in her own world. Her teacher had brought Avery over to sit with her and introduced them. Aira had said hi and continued to
draw.

“What are you drawing?” Avery had asked
her.

“A
rainbow.”

Avery had leaned over, grabbed a pencil crayon, and colored over the yellow with
orange.

Aira just watched
her.

“Orange is before yellow.” Avery smiled. Even at that age she had been a perfectionist and very proud of
it.

They’ve been inseparable ever
since.

Aira groaned. “You’re such a downer, I’ll see you in sixty.” She hung up the phone, sat up and looked around her
room.

Her room was decorated typically for an almost eighteen-year-old girl. A stereo sat on a small desk in the corner by her bedroom window with CD’s scattered all around it. The nightstand next to her bed used to be her grandfather’s. It was made from dark wood, was old and rustic looking. A laptop sat on the floor by her bed with the charging chord still in it but not plugged into anything. Above her dresser on the wall were pictures of her and Avery growing up and funny pinned notes they had sent back and forth to each other over the years. She also had a picture framed on her dresser of her with her grandparents when she was young. Her room was on the top floor of her two story, four bedroom home. She had a small bathroom inside her room with a shower, and a large bedroom window, covered with dark green sheer curtains that hung loosely on the floor that looked out to the side of her house. Aira’s favorite color was dark swamp green, and was also the color of the down-filled blanket covering her queen-sized
bed.

Aira’s hair was long, a dull mousy brown, and a mess from sleeping, but even then she was beautiful. Her eyes were crystal blue, her skin quite pale, and very clear. Her most favorite things about herself were the beauty marks at the top part of her left wrist that perfectly made up the constellation of the Big Dipper, her favorite
constellation.

In only a long, low-cut T-shirt and underwear, she sleepily got out of bed, walked over to her stereo and turned it on. She went over to her dresser, grabbed some clothes and made her way to her
bathroom.

Pulling off her T-shirt, she then put on a black sleeveless shirt and one of her most beloved sweaters. A low cut, grey cashmere, it was one that always gave her comfort, a constant feeling of being hugged. Aira always wore sweaters. They reminded her of her
grandfather.

His name was Philip, well, that’s what he had gone by. It had been his middle name — his first name was actually August. His presence had been warm. He had been a hardworking man. He had started his own business as a gravel truck driver, helping make roads, supporting Aira’s grandmother Freda and their nine children. (Aira’s mother was the youngest.) He had had dark brown hair and dark, dark brown eyes, and his eyebrows had been very sharp. He hadn’t been overweight, but had had comfortable meat on
him.

Aira remembered one summer day in particular when she was five years old. Her grandparents had been expecting some company. Her grandmother was trying to put snacks together and Aira hovered around her wanting to help. Her grandfather gave her a spoon and said she should go over behind his shop and see if she can dig to China. The shop was made of old looking dark wood and was big enough to pull a semi-truck into. It also had a basketball hoop bolted on the back doors that appeared to Aira to be thirty feet
high.

Being five, Aira had really believed it was possible to dig to China. She was excited. (She knows now he said it to give them some time to visit with their company.) So Aira went out, found a spot, and dug, and dug, and dug. About a half hour later her grandfather came walking out with a boy Aira’s age, who also had a spoon in his hand. Aira looked up, covered in dirt. Her grandfather laughed because it was all over her
face.

“I brought you a worker, you might get there faster.” He smiled and walked
away.

Even though Aira was aware that the boy was there, she continued to dig. It wasn’t that she was intentionally being rude and ignoring him, she was on a
mission.

The boy walked around a bit. Aira looked up every once in a while to see what he was doing. The boy seemed curious, but hesitant. He didn’t want to interfere with what she was doing. She seemed to be really
concentrating.

Finally, after a few minutes, he found a place on the ground and sat across from her. He started to push the dirt around a bit with his
spoon.

“Are you really digging to China?” he asked calmly, excited by the idea but not really believing
it.

“Yes,” she answered, somewhat irritated because her wrist started to itch and it was distracting her. She rubbed her left wrist on the side of her tummy by her hip and kept
digging.

“My grandpa said I
could.”

The boy smiled delighted and moved a little
closer.

“My grandpa says I can
fly.”

Aira stopped what she was doing and looked at him for a quick second. His eyes seemed strange to her, like stars were twinkling in them or
something.

She looked back down, then gave him one more look and continued
digging.

“My grandma says that’s why she married my grandpa. She said he taught her how to
fly.”

The boy smiled, leaned down and started to dig with
her.

“Maybe one day I can teach you.” He spoke simply, moving himself to sit up on his knees, digging
away.

They dug all afternoon in the heat, saying no
more.

Eventually a lady came to get him. She was his mother but looked different from
him.

“It’s time to go, say goodbye to your friend.” She spoke in a soft tone. She seemed gentle, and Aira thought she was very
pretty.

The boy stood up and his mother wiped the dirt off his
clothes.

Aira felt sad. The lady was taking her new friend
away.

“Can he come back after supper?” Aira asked in a sweet, raspy
voice.

The pretty lady walked over to Aira and bent down. Aira remembers looking into the lady’s kind brown eyes. They looked strange like the
boy’s.

“Oh sweetie, we’re actually moving today, we came to say goodbye to your
grandparents.”

Aira’s disappointment must have been
obvious.

The lady smiled at her. “Don’t be sad,” she said wiping the dirt from Aira’s face, “we’ll be back one
day.”

The lady stood up, took the boy’s hand and they walked away. He kept looking back at her as they got into their truck and drove down the long winding
driveway.

Aira continued to dig, but got only as far as a five-year-old would. Her grandma called her in for supper and, not long after, it was time for Aira to go back
home.

Her grandpa drove her, as they lived in town at the time. She loved his old red and white Ford diesel truck. She loved the sound of it, and the grey and red tweed seat coverings. She was always sad when she had to leave, but her mother always brought her back so she could spend the weekends with
them.

The next weekend came and her mother dropped her off as
usual.

Aira ran excitedly into her grandparent’s kitchen, and was searching in a rush through
one of the
drawers for a spoon when her grandfather walked
in.

“What are you looking for?” he
asked.

“A spoon,” she answered with a cute, high-pitched
voice.

“Oh, that’s right, China.” He smiled looking down at her and walked to the
door.

“Well, let’s see how far you got.” He spoke while making a head movement to go
outside.

He and Aira walked out behind the old shop, and the moment she got to where she had been digging her eyes widened. She looked at her grandfather in disbelief. The tiny little hole she had spent half a day on now looked to her like a canyon. Of course it wasn’t that big, maybe fifteen feet in depth and twenty feet in length and
width.

“Grandpa!” She looked at her grandfather with the delighted eyes of a child. “What
happened?”

Her Grandfather smiled. “I was helping you dig to
China.”

Aira never forgot that. He actually needed the dirt for something else, but he made sure he
took it from where she was digging. That’s how great of a man he was. He passed away two years
later
.

In only her sweater and underwear, Aira fixed her hair and put on some Carmex lip balm. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, her natural beauty was
obvious.

She remembered her grandma giving her that same lip balm to use when she was younger. It used to make her lips tingle and she loved the smell of it. Wearing it now reminded her of running around her grandparent’s property in the summer time, whether only her grandparents were around, or when they were putting on one of their many barbecue
extravaganzas.