Adventure Time Tree Trunks Apple Pie Novels & Stories

“Do you feel that? The air’s pulsing.” Elias nods, his golden eyes wide with disbelief. “It shouldn’t be possible. The Mother Tree hasn’t changed in over a hundred years.” Kevin whistles softly. “Well, she just woke up from her nap.” Rowan elbows him, but even he’s grinning faintly. None of us can stop staring at it. The light shifts every few seconds—soft pink fading to gold, then back again, as if the fruit itself is breathing. Tobias’s voice trembles. “What does it mean?”

"Amore, the doctor says there's something wrong with the baby." Jonathan stiffened, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. Only when he reached it did he seem to remember me. "Nat, something came up. You don't have to wait up for me tonight. Lock the doors and windows, and make sure you're covered when you sleep." What a hopeless romantic. Even then, he was still worried about me. How touching. After he left, the mansion sank into a dead silence. I dumped the remaining strawberry cake into the trash. I hadn't eaten something that sweet in three years, and I wasn't used to it anymore.

He picks up a fallen branch from the ground and holds it over his head, like I don’t see his small arms shaking. “Very impressive,” I agree, hiding my smile behind one of the red mittens Augustine knitted for me. A final crack signals that Arthur has cut through the trunk. The tree sways, then falls with a soft whoosh into the snow. Arthur whirls around to grin at us, looking just as proud as Miles with his little stick. Together, the three of us drag the tree back to the cabin. By the time we reach the porch, we’re all breathing hard, both from exertion and laughter.

"And the pack cooks use them to make the big tarts for the festivals. I told them you like strawberries, so they're making a giant one for Saturday night!" My heart softened completely at his words. Despite the rot of secrets hiding inside my mother’s penthouse, this little boy was trying so hard to make me feel like I belonged. "That is incredibly sweet of you, Thomas," I murmured, squeezing his small fingers as we walked into the shade of the massive apple and pear trees. We spent the next two hours wandering the winding dirt paths of the orchards. Thomas chatted entirely without a filter, pointing out his favorite climbing trees and telling me stories about the pack festivals. I let mysel

He walked over to the dining table and carefully placed the box down. When he lifted the lid, the smell reached them immediately. Warm cinnamon. Baked apples. Buttery pastry. Emma’s expression softened. “What is that?” “My mother’s apple pie.” Alexander gave a small shrug. “She makes it whenever I accomplish something.” Emma smiled. “Anything?” “Pretty much.” “Even small things?” “Especially small things.” He smiled. “A good test. A sports trophy. A presentation that didn’t completely fall apart.” Stephanie smiled. “That sounds lovely.”

But then I saw something, something that brought a flicker of hope to my chest: a pawpaw tree, its golden fruits dangling low from the branches. I approached it slowly, my eyes darting over my shoulder, scanning for anyone who might’ve been trailing us. The twins had quieted a bit, now reduced to soft whimpers, and I knew why, they were hungry, tired, in desperate need of clean clothes. Their little bodies trembled in my arms as I reached up and plucked a ripe fruit.

Climbing higher, I pulled myself across a limb, almost as if I were army crawling, and placed the apple between the fork of two smaller branches. Careful not to knock it from its resting place, I shimmied backwards, before swinging back down to the branches below me. A few moments later, my feet were planted safely on the ground. Staring up at the tree, I focused on searching for the apple. I’d hidden it well to create the challenge of finding it amongst the changing leaves. Fall was looming and the trees were still full, but their leaves were bright oranges, yellows and reds, creating the perfect camouflage for the apple.

And it terrified me. I wished they had both looked like me. That way, no one would ever try to take them from me. “Mom, aren’t we eating the apple pie or not?” Evangeline tugged at my sleeve, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Oh. Of course, sweetheart.” We sat down under the tree, Lucian sliced the pie into equal pieces while Evangeline curled up in my lap, happily feeding me bites between her own. Then, after a few minutes of peace, she suddenly tilted her head up.

The top of the tree scraped against the ceiling, and we had to bend it slightly to get it to fit. “It’s perfect,” Grace said, her eyes shining as she stepped back to admire it. Indeed, it was perfect. Comically large and leaking sticky sap all over the floor, but it was big and vibrant and smelled like heaven. That evening, we gathered around the fire, the tree standing proudly in the corner of the room—now draped with popcorn and cranberries and dried orange slices. Grace had prepared an absurdly large amount of stew and homemade bread, and we all dug in, ravenous after spending the day out in the woods.

she said, shaking my arm. I shook her off. "You were the ones who made this a joke first." She suddenly rushed out of the room. Seconds later, she stormed back in with some apples. She threw them at me. "You haven't had this variety of apples, right? Fine. They're all yours. Eat as much as you want. If you want to leave, finish these first!" The commotion drew the entire family over. James finally spoke, every word he uttered directed at me. "Preston, it's New Year's. Do you have to make us angry? Look at what this house has turned into because of you!"