Under The Oak Tree Chapter 19 Novels & Stories

Chapter 9 Oakley POV I had wandered around the side of the packhouse when the pulling seemed to intensify. Knowing I couldn't go any further thanks to my damn wolf refusing to allow me back to my room for shoes, I stood there frozen. As I stare at the gravel of the packhouse driveway I realise how unappealing the walk across it would be, and would surely lead to serious injuries to my bare feet.

There was somebody underneath OUR tree. The tree that Nana and Papa called symbol of their love. It will be mine one day... and I will care for OUR tree... Oaktree. The tree was here before Papa brought the land. The government was distributing land at a very low rate on the side of the hill, so Papa seized the opportunity without asking his angry parents. This is a euphemism because it was on the schedule area with few local tribes nearby to communicate. This is how Nana and Papa meet.

Leonardo provided. "The oak tree in the midst of the pines," Hazel muttered as a memory flashed in her mind at those words. After a few minutes of pondering, her eyes widened as she realized what the clue was. "It's the oak tree in the middle of the large pine field, horses' hooves printed on the soaked ground on a rainy day, blood-red moon. The earth has been hurt, or is Mother Moon mourning for her dead children?" she began. "While many sleep, the earth weeps. What a sorrowful night. As the unknown enemy works in the darkness of the night. Under the large oak tree lies the secret to her salvation. But then again, it also holds the power to her damnation."

“My emotions?” “Yes.” She looked directly into my eyes now. “You are distracted.” Leah. The name immediately burned through my chest. My mother saw the reaction instantly. Her expression hardened. “This is still about her.” I looked away first. “That chapter is over.” “No,” Ophelia said quietly. “It should be over.” The difference in those words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I walked past her toward the balcony overlooking the kingdom. Below, Oakwood stretched beautifully beneath the morning light. Large stone homes. Silver banners. Wolves moving through the streets.

For a second, I see inside him. Not nothing. A seed. Small. Black. Cold. The part the Tree cut out. The part it was afraid of. It falls. Hits the dirt. The Tree moves. A root. One root. Thin as thread. It spears down and takes the seed. Pulls it deep. Mine. Silas collapses. Human. Empty. Alive. The wheat stops growing. The crown goes quiet. The gate opens. And thirty thousand people walk in. Draven catches me before I hit the ground.

I doubled down by crying out, “Would he give you a happy pat on the back if you allow something to happen to his unborn pups due to too much heat?” “No please, go on please. But at least let me escort you to make sure you're safe.” He offered. I bent over and cried out again, adding some convulsive shakes to the drama. “Ah, please just go quickly!” He conceded. I smiled out of the corner of my mouth as I left him. Fool. It wasn't such a long walk before I saw the oak tree described by the note-sender. I couldn't see anyone there. I went closer till I got to the tree itself. I stood there, looking around.

As we approached the front entrance, I turned to face Rico, "Can we go back to the oak tree again?" "Why? Aren't you hungry?" He asked. "Yes I am but I feel drawn to the tree. I want to say goodnight before I sleep," I answered honestly, despite how weird I sounded. "Okay then, let's go." He said and we walked side by side again to the oak tree. The oak tree stood tall and majestic, its branches reaching out as if embracing the moon above. The air around it felt charged with a certain energy, a quiet strength that resonated deep within me.

Chapter 3: Just A Breeder Fiona’s POV My stood beneath the ancient oak, its gnarled branches a silent witness to my reluctant union. A finery of lace and silk clung to me like a second skin, ill-fitting for my spirit, though it perfectly sculpted my form. The congregation held its breath as I took a step forward, the rustle of my gown whispering secrets of a heart yielded. My fingers trembled, barely touching the rough bark for support.

“He hasn’t released me.” “He will.” The certainty in her tone leaves no room for doubt. “What if he never does?” Her head tilts slightly. “He will.” Silence hums between us. “Where?...Where can i find you?” I ask. The clearing shifts. The trees blur and rearrange. The vision expands outward like a map unfurling. I see forest stretching westward denser, darker. A narrow trail barely visible beneath overgrowth. A river cutting through stone. Then a massive oak tree. Its trunk is split clean down the center, blackened along the jagged seam as if lightning once struck it from sky to root. The top half leans precariously but still lives, branches heavy with leaves.