Memory 2

This memory that seemed like a lifetime ago was only a few months old.

She walked into the bathroom toward the ghost of her mate and studied him, a smile blooming on her face. He was so worried for her—she could see it in the tension that lined his forehead and his eyes, pulling at those handsome features and making them more intense, more angular. His hair and beard were longer than they were now since Greta had been insisting he remain more groomed in his appearance. August chuckled softly thinking of that first time she saw them bickering in the treehouse over it—that morning before they left to go before the council.