The House Among The Trees Novels & Stories

There were beautiful, lush green trees, with fresh fruits, tall plants with flowers in full bloom, and the houses on the sides looked like they were built to precision and perfection. It was the house in the center that caught her attention, though. The towering building was built in such a way that it captured everyone's attention the moment they walked in. The pack house was majestic, standing taller than the trees. It was a white, marbled stone house, that rose above like a tall skyscraper, fighting with the tallest trees, with glasses reflecting the sunlight into million colorful prisms. Tall awning windows covered the house, covered with soft silk curtains, and small potted plants sat b

A drive leading back from the road through the trees to a structure barely visible from where they sat — a house, small, wooden, the kind that has been built by hand by someone who had time and need and the relevant skills. The window. Elena looked at the window. The same window from the photograph. She could see it from here. The same angle. The same trees behind it. The same quality of light that the photograph had captured — winter-early, October-clear, coming through enormous conifers at an angle that illuminated the inside of a small house without overwhelming it. She got out of the car. Dominic got out. Rosa got out. They stood on the road for a moment. The three of them. The blue mail

Only the whispers of the trees and the distant calls of night creatures. After what felt like an eternity, they reached a small clearing. At the center of the clearing stood a modest hut, its walls constructed from rough-hewn logs and covered in ivy. Smoke drifted from a chimney, signaling the presence of warmth inside. The air here felt charged, as if the very earth beneath their feet was alive with ancient energy. This was where the shaman resided.

The journey to her cottage took them along winding roads flanked by towering trees, their branches reaching out like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the wilderness. From the confines of his car, Damon observed Aqua's quaint abode—a small cottage nestled at the edge of town. The cottage stood as a solitary figure amidst a lush landscape, surrounded by a canopy of ancient trees that seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. Its timeworn exterior, adorned with ivy and climbing roses, exuded a rustic charm that spoke of simpler times.

It lay there under a skin of frost that had no business living through it. I crouched over it and kept my hands to myself. Bram's voice in everyone's head now. The cold gets in and stays. "It ran till its heart quit," I said. "From nothing. Nothing on God's earth runs a doe to death over open ground." Maren looked at the frost a long while. "There's a nothing now," she said, and put her stick in the dirt and climbed on past me. Then the trees opened. There was a house. Had been a house. Stone, low, built into the hill. Smoke should have been coming off it. The kind of place that's never not got smoke. There was no smoke.

My grandma and the other Sprites told me everything I needed to know about their kind, they showed me around their forests and I was surprised to find out that the trees where the size that they are because it's their homes, I was shown around the houses and really do love the naturalness to the house and their living. You enter through the bottom of the tree trunk and walk up a spiral staircase to open areas where there are hanging hammocks made of vines and softened with leaves and cotton, they had no kitchen because they don't cook, there were benches, tables and other little fittings made of branches and vines. At the very top was an open space where you stepped out on what I would call

Past where the wolves lived. It was pretty isolated back here. Everything was arranged. I kept going over what I would say in my head, it was drizzle but it was more the intention than anything, I suppose. We walked up to a clearing in the middle of the forest that we walked through, surrounded by tall trees that were neatly in a circle, the grass here was perhaps the nicest in the territory, lush and soft. There was a dirt path that led up to a house. The house was a complete mix of what represented myself and my old self.

It was smaller than I expected. The trees by the road side weren’t normal. Their trunks twisted like they were in pain, and their bark were covered in strange carvings. What the hell is this place? The witch’s house sat at the very edge of the area, partially hidden behind some trees. It was old, the wood had darkened with age, and the windows concealed by heavy, dust-coated curtains. The place had a presence, something subtle but undeniable, like the house itself was watching us.

No one said a word as we slipped out of the packhouse and began to move quietly through the trees. The night was cool, the moon hanging low in the sky. The forest was full of soft sounds—the wind through the leaves, the distant rush of the stream. For once, I didn’t feel like the woods were watching me. We walked for about fifteen minutes before the trees opened up to a clearing. There was a small building at the edge, almost hidden by vines and moss. It looked abandoned at first, but when Axel pushed the door open, there were lights inside. It was a pool house.

I nodded and inevitably shook my head. "It's coming soon," I replied. I feel again the aura of the beta who we saw earlier in the house. I hope she doesn't spread our true faces. I'm praying right now because of the possibilities that she will become our enemy. And it will make difficult for us when it happens. The surroundings became dark. Carried by towering trees. “Don’t make too much noise,” Arnal reminded. We took a few more steps until we saw four large trees. Of the trees around, these four trees are the largest. And even more amazing is that it is surrounded by moss.