Sundew X Willow Novels & Stories

"I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone here." Slade sighed. "I'll be fine. Go." *** Wes and Willow continued to drive the car until they were no longer able to see the house. They traveled on the road leading down the hill. On one side, the tall forest trees were visible, tiny waterfalls, birds, fern, and moss; and on the other side, there was a slope and at the base of it was the plain land which was partially obscured by the fog. "Tell me," Wes said, his eyes on the road. "What happened?"

The thought of them spending time together made Lady Silverwall lose all preconceived notions. After passing through the small hills, a collection of light refracted from one tree, bouncing off into the sky like an aurora. A firefly or two flashed past, their light brighter than the flaming mushrooms. When Phillip removed the last broad ketapan leaf, he could see a giant willow tree that in every tendril gave off a colorful light. Starting from blue, yellow, violet, red, orange, to green. The lights create amazingly beautiful color gradations. Phillip glanced at Louise who seemed also amazed, even though the Lady had visited this place several times. Only that time Phillip was not with her.

"But Serena... the Lunar Frost inside you has invaded your heart meridians. The suppressants I made are losing their potency. I need to brew a stronger batch. Until then, do not shift, and do not exert yourself. Or you’ll collapse for real next time." Serena shrugged, unbothered. "It’s just a little blood. Better than before. If I hadn't met you, my wolf would have faded, and I’d be in the ground by now." Willow lifted her chin, feigning arrogance. "Obviously. I, Willow, am destined to be the greatest healer in the werewolf realms. If you died on my watch, it would ruin my reputation. Don’t worry. Once we find the Moon Orchid, I guarantee I can purge the frost from your system."

Jean-Pierre asked as he started to sort the items from the basket. “My name is Willow. I need some food items.” She told Jean-Pierre, and he helped her to pick out the items she needed. Willow carried the items in her basket. Out onto the walkway, she went to head home. The day was growing late, and Willow didn’t want to be out after dark. As she moved down the walk, she smiled. Jean-Pierre, she was sure, had to be Falling Feather reborn.

Elliot laughs nervously, “Yes she is.” I looked at David and asked, “Out of curiosity, what made you want to check it?” He replied, “Willow trees grow to those heights in full sun. They don’t do well in shade at all. Most of the time, if you see a Willow tree, there are no other trees around it. They like to hog the sunlight. They don’t play well with other trees.” I laughed, “Thank you. It looks like I have a lot to learn.” He smiled, “We would all be happy to teach you all that we know.”

Quill answered. Without replying to him, Howard was staring at the willow tree that was standing by the river as it was bending down to it. The tree looked so weak like it would break if the wind hit it when the truth is they never bend! Except for its sorrowful state, it's strong enough to defeat the wind.

we both started at the sound of Xander's voice. He walked over and stood beside Willow with his arms wide open. Knowing exaactly what he wanted, Willow stood and walked into my best friends embrace. A pang of jealousy hits me but I push it down. I know there is nothing more than friendship there. "Oh nothing, just watching Ronan attempt to burn down the pack house," Willow teased as she released Xander and returned top her seat. "Ahh, how lucky you are my Luna, to experience Ronan's spaghetti," he teases, "I'll make sure you have plenty of napkins to spit it in."

The spring breeze, soft and caressing, carried the delightful fragrance, and the afternoon sun bathed everything in a soft, golden glow, making the vibrant greens of the grass and the budding flowers seem even more brilliant. I stood beneath the sprawling willow tree, its graceful branches swaying gently, a silent sentinel over our lives. It was the willow tree, the one where Alistair, with a tenderness he rarely showed the outside world, had carved our intertwined initials just a week after our chaotic, beautiful wedding. A small, intimate gesture that meant the world to me. My gaze followed the paths of three little tornados, their boundless energy leaving trails in the dew-kissed grass.