My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

"Where are we going?" August whispered, a soft smile spreading across her face at the peace that pervaded her. Walking through Graeme's forest, following this crow, watching as the forest's energies and auras glided around her—it all felt comforting and right.

They were walking in a different direction than when she and Graeme had gotten pizza. This was not a direction she had gone before, she was sure of it. The forest wasn't as dense, and the crow had taken flight low amongst the trees, weaving in and out before returning to soar in front of her.

After she had been following the bird for a good twenty minutes, she patted her pockets to realize that she had left her phone at the base of the tree with her camera. It was only then that a sliver of fear wriggled itself into her chest. What was she doing? Graeme had worried about leaving her alone even when she was protected by the enchantment of the treehouse, and now she was back alone in the forest with no way of reaching him and no idea where she was.

Her eyes darted around looking for the crow, suddenly realizing that it wasn't flying directly in front of her as it had been. A sharp caw sounded from a branch further along in her path, and she caught the piercing blue of its eyes. She let out a deep sigh as she trained her eyes on it, continuing her walk forward.

When the bird crouched and jumped off the branch, catching the breeze under its wings, August realized that this, too, she could feel inside of her as if the crow were an extension of herself. All of the tension that had suddenly tightened her muscles relaxed, and she forgot the worry of the phone and of the enchanted tree left behind. The certainty of her place here that she could feel in every small hum of the energy within her was enough reassurance. She was going to be okay.

As she walked, she relished in the simplicity of this. Everything was so complicated around her, no doubt, and she couldn't untangle the meaning behind all that danced now visible before her eyes, but this—walking in the woods—was so beautifully simple. It was everything she had wished she could do growing up.

There were rare instances when she was actually able to have solitary moments in nature, and usually those moments were met with at least the low buzz of machines and people and noises of civilization in the background. But right now, the quiet of all that was wild here was perfect. And somehow she could feel it like a river. She was flowing with it, riding the current.

And just as the metaphor arrived in her mind, the perfect quiet of the woods began to gurgle with the sounds of water. The iridescent black feathers of her crow shimmered as it glided through the sunlight and over a creek, and August found herself walking out onto a boulder with running water below. She recognized this creek. This was the creek in Graeme's memory.

As she stood poised in this spot, the breeze playing with her golden strands of hair, she saw Graeme there in her mind. His memories came alive, and the creek was a canvas with moments throughout his life skipping along in brushstrokes. Time had recorded it like a painter, and she was able to stand here and witness it come to life. It brought tears to her eyes.

There was Graeme just the other day as he stood here lost in the past. She saw him with his hands in his pockets, face lined in guilt and worry and anger. He had so much weighing him down, she felt it as she watched him standing there before her. He was beautiful and powerful and… and broken.

Her face flushed with the heat of something she couldn't identify, but it was potent as it rose up in her, and she wanted to be with him at that very moment to take all of that weight from him. To comfort him like he hadn't been. Who did he have to comfort him in the last ten years?

August realized her hands were clenched in fists as the image of Graeme dissipated, and she consciously relaxed them—extending them now to test their feeling in this air, on her hands, reminding herself that she was here and he wasn't. She looked around for the crow who had led her to this spot, and she caught a ruffling of feathers on the other side of the creek.

The bird was perched on an ancient looking tree. Moss and the lacy texture of lichens adorned its wide trunk.

August looked now at the rolling water in the creek as it flowed effortlessly over the rocks in its path. There was a consistent line of jutting rocks that led to the other side where the ancient tree sat. Over these rocks, the creek spilled into a small waterfall before folding and frothing over itself further down.

Without pausing to consider the risk, August walked further up the side of the creek to approach this line of rocks so she could cross and continue following the black bird who had brought her here. She was wearing a pair of hiking boots that Greta had given her earlier that day, and now she watched the rounded brown toes as she gingerly extended each foot—one in front of the other—to cross the creek.

On the third rock, she slipped before catching herself. Now her arms were extended wide for balance as she concentrated—trying to measure the amount of slip on each rock to compensate with how her foot was placed. And yet, somehow, a joy swelled within her even now. The motion of the water sprayed fresh around her, and it was exhilarating. This was life. This was everything.

August had made it over half of the way across, and she looked up to see the crow's glowing blue eyes on her. She felt the gaze pierce her. She stepped in line to meet that expectant gaze, but she didn't looked down to see where her foot was first, and suddenly she was slipping. Her foot slid off the side of the rock, and her body angled to compensate, but it wasn't enough to keep her standing. She slid and fell, and before she even had time to realize what had happened, she was submerged in ice cold water.

Her head came back to the surface instinctually, and then she was gasping—not for air, but for warmth. Some instinct made her limbs move—her arms reaching forward, one after the other, slicing through the water for the bank. When she finally climbed out, she was shivering uncontrollably, and she collapsed to allow the air around her to move in to her lungs.

Somewhere above her the crow cawed loudly, unimpressed. She chuckled, turning over and rising to see the ancient tree sprawling like a goddess of the forest waiting to embrace her.

August pushed herself off of the bank and curled her arms around her body for warmth as she walked forward to where the tree and the crow awaited her. When she rounded the base of the tree, she found that the earth gave way to a massive cave with roots that shot out around it like angry, wild hairs. She stood looking at the dark interior of the under-tree, in awe and yet reluctant to enter. The crow tilted its head and clucked on a branch above her, and she chuckled again, rubbing her arms for warmth as she approached the darkness.

August entered the cave under the tree and sat down, smelling the earth and the wild while a chill ran down her body from the freezing water that was still clinging to her skin. The crow fluttered down and into the cave mouth, stopping at the opening and tilting its head again as it looked at her. She smiled, rubbing her arms as she did. "So what are we doing here, friend?" she asked softly.

A growl erupted, vibrating the earth around her, and her eyes went wide. What was that? The earth above her felt as if it echoed with heavy footsteps that stalked forward, approaching the cave's entrance.

The crow let out a single cluck before hopping closer to her and gesturing with its head for her to move further backward—into the darkness of the cave.. She sucked in a breath and clutched herself tighter before scooting backward, finally turning to crawl toward something she couldn't see.

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