#inheritence

You take in a deep breath as you shiver, tugging your cloak over your face as you feel the bitter chill as the rain falls. The message in your satchel almost feels like it's burning through, despite it being just paper and wax.

You shake your head. No- no, that was … silly, you are just nervous. And hopeful. You swallow a little as you approach the town and rub your hands together. You hadn’t been back to Forest Pines since you were little.

You’d visited the town when you were younger with your family. A few times in as many years to meet with one of your uncles. Your family - it used to be large, it’s shrunk over the years.

The clouds are getting darker as you glance up and hurry to where you were headed into town. This place was just as dreary as you remember it being when you were younger.

The rain is about to hit, and the wind is already bitingly cold. You pull out the semi rusted keys as you head to the shop- your uncle’s shop- which has sleep quarters and living quarters above it.

You open the door to the shop and the first thing you notice is sound. There is a slow, drip, drop, and pitter patter of water falling from leaf to leaf. Tapping against the terracotta pots in an irregular rhythm. The sound seems to echo through the greenhouse.

Outside, the rain is starting to fall thick and heavy. As fog turns the windows almost black. You glance at the window and shiver a little as you lock the door and tug your cloak around you more.

The next thing you notice is the smell, the scent of petrichor and plants. Of dust and you approach the shop’s counter. It’s a little dusty, you reach out a hand to the warm colored wood of the counter. Its- yours now. From the letter in your pocket.

You shake your head a little. You sigh a little and rub your face. You’d trained in plant care and in horticulture. It was one of the main ways that you and your family made their trade.

Not that anyone had wanted this uncle’s shop. Everyone had argued and squabbled to not have to run this shop in Forest Pines. You grimace a little as you recall why you are the one that gets the dubious honor of running this shop.

You grumble and mutter and swear a little to yourself as you hear something creek outside. You glance out the window- feeling a little jumpy for some reason, the sign hanging outside as the cold winds shift: Horticulturist of Forest Pines.

You hear something come up behind you as you look around, and then down behind you. You hear a soft mew and you see your uncle’s - ah, no, your cat. Your cat now. Walk and stop as they look up at you. Staring at you from the floor. The cat, dark short, furred and four legged. The cat slowly blinks at you and you smile down at the cat.

You slowly crouch down as you slowly reach out your hand and wait for your unc- your cat to decide to sniff and greet you or not. You’d remembered this cat- or a cat that looked a lot like this one.

The cat was a little unusual, one eye a yellow-god, and the other a deep mossy green. Pretty, if a little unusual. The cat mews at you again, and tilts their head a different way, as if trying to decide if you were worth acknowledging or not.

You laugh a little at that as you grab something from your satchel, a bit of straight protein left over from your lunch when you’d taken the train to get here. You offered it for the cat’s approval or dismissal. For some reason you want the cat to like you.

You had fond memories of gently petting the fur of “Oh Pepper, you look so good for your old age. Unless you are one of pepper’s descendants? Not even a hint of silver or white in that tar dark fur.”

Pepper- or Pepper II makes a decision as they come over to take the food from you and eat it before coming closer to sniff your fingers and then rub their head against your fingers and purr a little.

“Aw, thanks buddy.” You say with a fond smile.

The cat mews again before wandering off- likely to go hunting for vermin- as there was almost always vermin to hunt and catch. To keep the vermin from eating at the plants and other things that were in this place.

You brush off some lint on your pants as you stand up with a soft grown as you head to where the ledgers are for the shop. You read the ledger carefully- some of the ink is smudged as you frowned, there are other methods of record taking that aren’t so difficult to read. 

You groan as you rub your face, perhaps you are more tired than you thought. You could swear that sometimes the words on the page would re-arrange themselves on the ink stained page… Hah. That would be ridiculous.

You groan again and rub the back of your neck. Ugh you have a nasty headache- one that has gotten worse since this morning despite eating and drinking and trying to relieve the strange pressure building up. Perhaps it’s stress?

You are only going to stay here for long enough to make sure things are going to run themselves and then go back home. To your apartment- to the big city and your life. Not this… mess. You sigh and rub your face, at least you were able to get almost a month off from work- paid leave at that.

To deal with this family business. Your unce didn't have any kids. Or at least, none had come to lay claim to this place. You scratch your cheek a little bit and hear a knocking at the door. You groan a little- technically the shop does have standard hours, and it should be open. So, you sigh to yourself and unlock the door as the bell rings.