Read Under The Oak Tree Novels & Stories

' 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.”

Something distinctly calming about it. I counted the oak trees until I reached my favourite tree of them all. It was the oak tree near my favourite spot. The sight which greeted me was breathtaking. It was a secluded corner, covered with shrubs of bright green grass. Within lay an alcove, hidden away from view. It was barely noticeable if you were not familiar with it. Pushing aside the shrubs, I sat under the shade, glancing around the woods. My thoughts ran riot in my head as I watched the stillness of the woods. I was confused and heartbroken at the same time.

The path beneath their feet grew uneven, the forest growing thicker and more ancient as they walked, until they arrived at the base of the oldest oak tree in Valenwood. The massive oak towered above them, its gnarled branches stretching out like protective arms, creating a canopy that filtered the moonlight. Caius stopped beneath the tree, his shoulders tense as he exhaled a slow breath. Lira stood beside him, unsure of what to say, the weight of the prophecy hanging between them.

Colton looks like he wants to walk into a tree. I shake my head, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “You two are terrible at lying.” Oakley beams. “Thank you.” “That wasn’t a compliment,” I say. “It felt like one,” he replies. Colton exhales slowly. “Let’s just… move on. The orchard is this way.” Oakley nods quickly. “Yes. Orchard. Trees. Fruit. No mysterious healer prophecies there.” Colton mutters, “Hopefully.”

If the hedge wants payment for entry, it can have fabric. I have paid worse. When I reach the old boundary tree, I stop. It’s not remarkable to look at, which is why it works. A thick oak with bark like layered scars. The kind of tree people pass a thousand times without remembering. The kind of tree that survives because it’s uninteresting. I press my palm to its trunk. The wood is cold. Alive. I close my eyes and listen. Not with ears. With the part of me that learned early that silence has texture.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The oak tree was huge and from where Lucas stood, its shape reminded him of a piece of broccoli. The great trunk was thick and gnarled, the leaves spreading like a vast canopy of deep jade. This magnificent symbol of nature sat alone in a green field, an azure, cloudless sky as a backdrop. Lucas ambled up the hill. There was no such thing as urgency in a place such as this. His heart maintained the sense of peace he had carried since . . .

a symbol that the sun is about to hide and moon will now replaced its shine. I swallowed hard while staring at the tall trees in front of me. I nodded. There is no backing down Lexis. This is for Alqamar. He will not going die. He won't die. I slowly walked towards the path and I followed the trail towards the dangerous forest. It's now or never Lexis.

POV: Iris The forest paths of Oakwood were quiet that evening, the sun dipping low behind the dense treeline and casting long, wavering shadows across the earth. I moved carefully, my senses alert to every sound—the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a lone wolf. Oakwood was familiar now, yet it carried secrets beneath its comforting canopy, and tonight, instinct prickled along my spine.

Hilda The sun is warm against my skin, the scent of fresh grass and wildflowers thick in the air as we sit beneath the sprawling oak tree next to the creek. A checkered blanket is spread beneath us, weighed down with a picnic basket, filled with an assortment of sandwiches, and a sticky-fingered toddler who’s currently smearing honey across her chubby cheeks.

They walked in comfortable silence, the only sound being the rustling of leaves and the soft creaking of tree branches. Meanwhile, under the sprawling oak tree near the soccer field, Tyler's friends huddled closer, their voices barely above a whisper as they planned their next move. The darkness seemed to amplify their intentions, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers. The tree's branches loomed above them, its leaves rustling ominously in the wind.