Leaning Willow Novels & Stories

She had planned on going herself but her gout was flaring up so she didn't want to walk much. "We'll probably run into Willow there." Lana said, her hand intertwined with mine as it rested on the gear lever. "Her mom makes these organic natural beauty products and sells them at markets, so Willow is usually dragged along. Not that she minds though, she often does kids' face painting and earns quite a nice bit of pocket money." She said as we pulled up to the open field with gazebos set up in blocks. Sure as nuts (weird saying, right?), as soon as we walked through the appointed entrance, we saw Willow with her face painting station set up. She squealed and launched herself at us the moment

' she stammered. "'Because,' the Oak explained, 'your broken branches provide shelter from the wind and rain. You offer a unique sanctuary, a haven of peace amidst the storm. You are different, Willow, and that is your strength. You offer something the other trees cannot.' “Willow, humbled, began to understand. She was no longer just a tree; she was a symbol of resilience, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, life finds a way to bloom. Her scars were not a mark of weakness, but a testament to her strength, a story of survival etched into her very being.”

I’d rolled the waistband of my skirt up for better movement and stopped to do the same to hers. “Better?” we started running again. “Yes!” she squealed with excitement. The trees surrounding the property were full with leaves in every shade of green you could imagine. My nose twitched, scrunching up from the smell as we grew nearer. “Why does it smell like stinky garbage?” Willow’s voice sounded muffled, the fingers on the hand I wasn’t holding pinching her nose. “I know, it’s terrible, but you have to see it.” “I don’t know, Rin,” she whispered with a soft whimper. “I don’t like this.” I felt resistance, looking back to see her digging her heels in the soil.

Her wolf crooned in her mind and Willow immediately felt herself getting wet. “Fuck" Willow cursed at the scenes that flashed in her mind and also at the fact that she could smell her arousal that was filling the air. She was standing with her back to Barbara as she admired herself in the gown in the mirror. Willow felt too ashamed to look back to see if Barbara had caught a whiff of the scent of her arousal. She just fled the dressing room into where she would change out of the magnificent gown.

The sun's golden light filtered down through the branches of the willow that skirted the meadow, its withered twigs trembling like dry sentinels sharing a secret. Adrian stayed at the border of the trees, watching as Elara made her way across the waist-high grasses, the faint blue hem of her dress rubbing against wildflowers. She still had not seen him. He spoke not a word. He just watched.