Under The Oak Tree Raw Novels & Stories

⇜ ♡♡♡ ⇝ DARVIN. I leaned my body against the tree as I lit my cigarette. My eyes roamed around the forest grounds. Felix, Katya, Nicole, Zahra, and Leandro went inside the pack house to have their own group while the rest settled on the big bonfire inside the forest just south of the pack house. Everyone was seated around a bonfire that the Beta lit up and was enjoying alcoholic drinks except for Sofia and Luna Nadia. My heart clenched at the sight of my sisters.

It’s like her nightmares coming to life but she took a leap and ran anyway. “Fuck!” The man kicked a tree and pulled a phone out of his jeans pocket. He was scrawny and wearing a flannel shirt and he was shivering and so was she. She was observing the man, trying to listen to what he was saying from under the tree roots that she crawled into.

He had notice something growing on its trunk, a smooth bump that was a size of a person’s face, worrying that it was a parasite he had tried to gently claw it off, but deep green liquid had ooze out, he had gotten scared, afraid of hurting the tree and decided to let it be, That night he had slept on the roots of the willow. Restless he couldn’t shake the feeling of violence inside of him, his beast growling and twitching, he wanted blood, he glanced back from where he stood pressing his face on the tree as if telling her he would come back, he ran. He needed to release such anger. ...

The trees become a green blur. Finally, the rogue slows his pace. He drops his shoulder and dumps me unceremoniously onto the damp grass. I hit the ground hard, rolling onto my side. I push myself up on my elbows, shaking the dirt from my hair. We are in a small, hidden meadow. A shallow creek bubbles over grey rocks nearby. Wildflowers grow thick along the banks. And standing in the shadows of the ancient oaks are seven more rogue lycans. They are massive, scarred, and filthy. But they are not growling.

She was not the victim. She was the one holding the pen. She reached out, her hand dripping with silver and gold fluid and grabbed the root of the oak tree. She did not try to block the data; she opened the floodgates letting her grief, anger and memory pour into the tree's network like a virus. "I'm editing the ending Miller " she whispered. The ancient oak tree screamed, the wood splitting down the center, as a gold discharge tore through the bark racing down into the root system like a lightning strike.

" I hung the cardboard on the refrigerator, right in the center, next to Matthew’s old drawings and the Polaroid photos of our messy and wonderful family. Our giant oak tree. With branches that stretch in every direction, roots that intertwine deeply in the soil, and dense foliage that protects everyone who lives in its shade. Imperfect. Complex. Real. Ours. And, for the first time, Nolah seemed truly at peace with it.

In the center stood a giant, ancient oak tree, its branches spreading out like protective arms. "It has a high-tech security system, a gated community, and a twenty-four-hour patrol," Cole listed off the specs, his businessman persona momentarily shielding his vulnerability. "But look at the backyard, Sabrina. Really look at it." "The tree," I whispered, tracing the lines of the oak with my thumb.

Jennifer rubbed the bridge of her nose awkwardly. "Andy, I know you're still angry with me. And you should be. But I have already cut ties completely with Phillip. Can you give me another chance? Please… don't abandon me." Her voice trembled as tears glimmered in her eyes. "I'm begging you." I looked calmly toward the distant hillside and shook my head. "Jennifer, let go. There is no going back for us. "It's like the apple tree in the yard. After our son died, no one cared for it anymore. Later, I tried everything to save it. But it still died.

I go until I’m far above the ground, far enough that looking straight down leaves me feeling dizzy. Don’t look down, don’t look down. I tell myself and look straight ahead. I’ve wrapped my arms around the tree trunk and I’m gripping tight. It’s some kind of oak tree, with large wide branches and a sturdy trunk. It’s thick with leaves in midsummer and they rustle gently in the light wind. Below is the hard baked ground and a little way away, the pool that comes down from the waterfall before the river rushes away through the forest.

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.”