Chapter Nine – Tradition

Title: Through the Window Came the Wind

Author : lifelesslyndsey

Disclaimer: It might not mah sandbox, but I'm building castles. But I'm not profiting from them.

Pairing: SamxBella

Rating: NC-17

Warning: language, and adult concepts in probably graphic citrusy detail.

Summary: He fought to do what was expected of him and she did the opposite. If love was less about finding that perfect someone, and more about finding that someone who makes you perfect, you never know who you might find. Love might bring out the best in us, but first, it brings out the worst.

"Tradition is an explanation for acting without thinking"

Grace McGarvie

Red came to the Rez for the festival, looking as ornery as ever, tugged along at the hand of Jacob. Though, to the trained eye, it was easy to see that she had made some effort in her appearance. Her hair was brushed, pulled back into a neat pony tail, and her skin looked freshly scrubbed. Hell, that was more effort than I'd seen since I'd imprinted.

I'd been at Billy's when she arrived. Billy, as chief of the tribe, had always headed the festivals himself, but as he had formally stepped down on my twenty-fourth birthday, it was now in my hands, and details were paramount. It would be my first festival, a right of passage in the eyes of many of the tribe, and for all that I was usually so confident, I found myself nervous. And to perhaps part of my nervousness came from the knowledge that she would be there too.

I knew that Billy didn't regret his decision to step down; the festivals were taking more of a toll on him every year. Nor did I think he regretted Jacobs decision to not step up. He was too young anyway, and we all knew that even if Jacob took my place as Alpha, he'd never willingly take my place as chief. It wasn't the life for him.

"Come on Bells, let's see if you fit one of the twins festival skirts," Jacob said, as he pulled her up her porch, and through the screen-door, letting it slap shut behind them. Red slammed to a halt when she saw me in the kitchen, a pile of thin yellow legal-pads stacked in-front of me. I kept my eyes on my notes, giving the semblance of reading when I was doing anything but.

Tearing her eyes away from me, where I wasn't looking at her with anything but my peripherals, she glowered at Jacob. "I'm not wearing a skirt."

Jacob just gave her the Black Family Grin, and replied, "you have to, it's part of the tradition. All the girls wear festival skirts. Rachel and Rebecca made theirs, I think. Most girls do, with thier moms. Sue helped my sisters."

I could see her gearing up for an argument, and suddenly felt the intense urge to test a theory I'd considered a while back. "If she doesn't feel comfortable wearing the skirt, she doesn't have to. I'm sure as Chief, I can pull some string-"

"I can wear the skirt. I'm not uncomfortable," Red cut in quickly, turning her practiced death glare on me. An irritated huff escaped her, as I continued to scribble across my notepad, not bothering to acknowledge her. "I'm just...not wearing the right shoes."

"Oh that won't matter, since you'll be barefoot," I replied, looking up with my own grin. I had been right; she would do the opposite of what I said, just for the sake of it. I was almost disappointed that she was so easily manipulated.

Red's mouth fell open as she realized what I'd done and I braced myself for her familiar animosity. Instead, her mouth snapped shut and her gaze narrowed. "Oh you're good, Sam Uley. I'll give you that. Reverse psychology, fantastic."

I smiled, but didn't look up. "I thought so. Works really good on my little sisters."

She laughed, perhaps for the first time since I'd imprinted, just a little thing that seemed to escape her lips without her permission. "Whatever," she said with a resigned sigh. "Show me the goddamn skirt."

The day festivities were innocent, filled with mostly dancing, music and the sharing of food. It was a day of community, as the Spring Solstice Celebration was a day to rejoice in the birth, rebirth, and grown of all thing. It was a day for blessing. The women sat around the small fires, painting brilliant streaks of red across the cheeks of the tribes children, to call to the spirits to help them grow strong in the coming year. Three women in our tribe were pregnant, bellies bared and striped with lines of yellow and white; blessings for easy births. The ground was blessed, the trees were blessed, the ocean breeze was blessed.

I spied Red from where I had been squirreled away in the Council tent. She was taking it all in with a wide-eyed fascination I had never seen in her. I recognized Rachel's skirt where it hung loose on Red's hips; thin, carefully constructed layers of chocolate-brown, store bought cotton, cut and hand sewn to fall like petals mid-calf. The skirt was heavy at the hem with tiny glass beads and bells, and she's paired it with a plain white top, as most of the tribe women had. She looked beautiful, and a little wild, her mess of hair falling down, free of it's usual pony-tail. It was longer then I expected, long enough to nearly reach where her waist curved into her hips.

I swallowed, over come with how badly I loved her, how fiercely and how deeply. It choked me, settling in my throat like a constant reminder. I loved her. And for all that itwas the imprint, not all of it was. I loved her defiance, for all that it drove me spare. I loved her loyalty, her pride. I loved the lines between her eyes and the way she'd fight tooth and nail to prove her strength. I loved that strength. I loved her. For her.

"You might want to tone it down Sam," Billy said with a chuckle, rolling to a stop beside me. "You glow any more brightly and people will start asking you if you're pregnant. You look like a man in love, Sam."

"I..." I took a sharp breath, turning to him. "It...burns." it was the only way to describe the feeling, a burning.

"The last time one of you boys said that to me he was talkin' about his pee," Billy commented. "This is a nice change."

The sun set, painting the sky a brilliant orange and red, and the tribe waited as the young and old made their ways home, exhausted by the festivities. Night came upon us, without Red ever leaving, and though I worried, there was nothing to be said of it. I had a job to do, and Billy and Jacobs mischievous smirks were proof enough that it wasn't an accident she was still there.

I lead the official rites of the lands myself, sprinkling the ash of our ancestors and blood of myself at the very heart of our land. My palm stung for only a moment where I nicked it, squeezing my palm over the burning fire. It burst into a mostly theatrical cloud of amber smoke, billowing upwards to catch the night wind. Words of blessing were repeated through out the gathered tribe, and I watched, amused, as Jacob elbowed Red, urging her to say them too. She stumbled over the harsh pronunciation, but smiled too. Jacob had no doubt played a mostly ignorant part, only happy to keep her at his side. Billy though, I didn't understand his motives.

The smoke cleared, leaving embers burning bright in their pit, and I tore my eyes from Red. There were things to be done, now. The day was for Blessing, but the night was forVision. While I couldn't doubt that there could be some truth in visions (who was I to doubt our legends?) I knew that mostly, the night was about...hallucinogens. No matter how the Elders spun it, the tea was spiked. It was harsh, but still mostly true.

"Bella's grandma, Marie Elizabeth Swan was said to have prophetic dreams," Harry Clearwater commented, as he curled a demanding hand over my forearm, pinning me in place more with a silent warning then any real power. "I wonder if she passed it on? Guess we'll find out, eh?"

It took a moment for his words to cut through me, and I felt myself freeze, horrified, as I watched Old Quill shove a brown clay passing bowl into Reds unsuspecting hands. The glint in his eyes was bright as he urged her to drink the fucking mushroom tea. It spilled from her mouth, as he tipped it further against her lips, staining a line down her throat. She choked and sputtered as he laughed at her, eyes flickering towards me.

It was easy to see that the Elders had plotted this between them; Billy, Quil and Henry, like tribal mutiny or a horrific display of initiation.

Billy was at my side in a second, Jacob behind him, his own eyes too bright and dilated to be helpful at all; he'd been drinking the tea too then. Billy shoved another clay passing bowl into my hands even as I watched my Red. "Drink Sam," he said, urgently, pushing at my hands. "Drink it. It's part of the rite, you know that. Drink Sam."

I drank.

Too soon I found myself standing at the heart of our land, on the deer-skin alter cloth, bowl of ash-and-berry paint cupped in my palm. My heart was hammering, colors meshing before my eyes. The whole damn world was beginning to blend already. They came to me, the members of my tribe who wished it, kneeling for their Chiefs blessing, even single one of them singing with the same whirlwind feeling. It was a heady thing to mark them mine, and have them accept me thusly. It felt right, as dictated by our Gods, as if they had a hand inside me.

That had to be the tea talking.

It went as smoothly as I could have hoped for, save for when I found a stumbling Red kneeling before me, Jacob behind her, his smile for me and not a little bit challenging. Her eyes danced, pupils so big they left little brown around them. The Ancestors...no the tea...burned through my veins...leaving me empowered in a way that would be most likely embarrassing tomorrow. But this was my mate, this was mine, this thing before me, and I wanted to mark it so. My fingers danced over her forehead where every one else had been given my mark, but I paused, heart hammering in my chest as a decision was made not wholly my own, I thought.

Fucking tea.

I pushed her hair off her shoulder instead, painting a messy symbol over her clavicle. The ash was sticky and bright against her pale skin in a way it wasn't on our own, and I couldn't believe what I had written in my moment of fucking mushroom insanity.

Beloved.

A harsh cry rent the air as the fire exploded into another mostly theatrics cloud of smoke, and was quickly echoed by every member of the tribe who lingered on for the evening rites. She startled, shaking herself from my gaze. Before she could escape, I tugged her hair back over her shoulder.

I was an idiot. What the hell was I thinking?

There was no time to dwell though, as the members of my tribe formed their circle around the little fire, eyes lingering on my Red, who had no idea she'd just been ordained into our tribe and as my fucking consort no less, not that they knew as much. Hopefully. The chanting lulled me, taking me away from all my worry, and I gravitated to her, before everything was just lost.

Lost to a whirl of dark eyes, bright fire,and a bowl full of mushroom tea.

A/N Wasn't the quote perfect?