My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest-Chapter 108 - Older Traditions

"Hurry back," August murmured into Graeme's chest as they lingered in front of Sam and Greta's house. He was still so quiet, like it was taking all of his concentration to remember why he must leave.

She could feel how he was hesitant to let her go, and she looked up to meet his dark eyes that were so open and vulnerable with her. "Please be careful," she whispered, the memory of Jonathan chasing her through the forest now playing in her mind.

"I will, Moon," he assured her, and he bent to tug gently on her bottom lip, creating a jolt of electricity that ran down her body and made her shiver.

"Bun Bun," she murmured, and she felt his arms stiffen before he started tickling her side mercilessly. "Stop! Graeme!" she managed between laughs. "I just meant I brought Bun Bun for company." He growled before pinching her side one last time, enjoying the uninhibited laughter that escaped from her and fell around them.

"I'll miss you," he mumbled as his bright smile slowly fell into a thoughtful one, and he pulled her against him again. "Don't do anything dangerous while I'm gone," he added.

"Dangerous? Me?" she scoffed. "You either, okay?"

He didn't answer but kissed her instead, and finally when he allowed himself to pull away, he watched as his human mate and the gravity of his entire universe disappeared safely into his sister and Sam's house. Greta leaned out of the door and gave him a wave. Graeme nodded his head in response before turning to the trees. There was someone there waiting in the shadows who he needed a final word with before leaving.

"It'll go by quickly. Don't worry," Greta squeezed August and took her overnight bag before giving her a short tour of the house. "It's actually crazy that you haven't been in our house yet," Greta laughed, setting down August's bag in the spare room across the hall from where she and Sam slept.

"It is, isn't it?" August agreed.

"We should go shopping for Samhain while Graeme's gone. It's only a few weeks away, and everyone in the pack dresses up. It's a lot of fun. Want to do that today?" Greta asked with a gentle smile. "Maybe it will help take your mind off of Graeme leaving."

August doubted anything short of a lobotomy would do that. There was already an ache deep in the center of her chest like something was being pulled away—as if she could feel him getting further away from her.

The aching sensation only increased as the day went on. They were walking toward the market when August groaned and placed a hand over her chest. "Is this normal?" she asked Greta. It felt like a physical manifestation of sorrow—when the emotion is so overwhelming, it physically hurts.

"Unfortunately, yes. The first time you are far apart is the worst. It feels wrong," Greta grimaced, recalling the feeling the first time she and Sam had been apart like that. She had followed Graeme off of pack land when he left, trying to get him to reconsider—trying to get him to stay and work with the elders the way he was intended. "It will get better, though. Hang in there."

"So what do we wear to this thing?" August asked, imagining a sea of intimidating faces in another intimidating room at the pack house during this next full moon. Maybe she should dress as a witch and make it easy for everyone.

"Are you familiar with Samhain?" Greta tilted her head in question.

"I'm familiar with Halloween," August stressed.

"Ah, well, this will be much better. The roots of our traditions, at least, are deeper and more meaningful," she grimaced and cut a look toward August. "No offense," she said.

August chuckled. "How dare you? You don't think costumes and trick-or-treating or lighting jack-o-lanterns is deep enough?"

Greta laughed. "Well I suppose the Halloween traditions stem from Samhain as well. But they feel like different holidays to me. Halloween is like the new, young, cool great great great grandchild of Samhain. The older traditions that Halloween grew from have been largely forgotten."

"I imagine Samhain didn't revolve around loads of candy," August smirked.

"No. And don't get me wrong, there are a variety of traditions. Ours has evolved in its own way as well from the original Gaelic festival ," Greta said thoughtfully. "There were children and the less fortunate who would go door-to-door to be given food or soul cakes, which I believe is where the modern trick-or-treating came from."

"Wow, I didn't realize that. What are soul cakes?" August asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

They had entered the market and were now walking amongst the vendors and other pack members. August smiled at them as they passed, and a strange feeling began pricking her chest as she did. It was that same area where she ached for Graeme, but this felt different—like invisible little strings plucking the air around her, and the vibrations they made resonated deep inside of her chest.

An almost giddy feeling bubbled up into her throat, and she found herself beaming with joy for no reason—like she had been told the most wonderful inside joke and now the laughter threatened to erupt out of her. What in the world was happening?

"Are you okay?" Greta stopped and turned to face her with a bewildered look.

"Yes," August said softly, worried that she might suddenly begin laughing like a crazy person.

"What is it? You look so happy all of the sudden," Greta whispered, an amused smile spreading on her face.

"I can't explain it, Greta," August replied, looking around at the market, "but it feels really good to be here with everyone. It's like we're all connected somehow, and I can… I can feel it."

Greta studied her silently for several moments with a thoughtful smile.

"What are you smiling about?" August finally asked when Greta didn't say anything.

"Nothing, Luna," Greta replied before turning to continue their walk.

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