Wildwood Novels & Stories

~Nick~ The name’s Nick Gracen, but most call me Lightning. I’m the local prez of the Wild Ridge MC Club. It’s a title that carries weight, respect, and a hell of a lot of responsibility. I looked around the clubhouse, a place that had seen more action than most could handle. The air was thick with the scent of oil, leather, and a hint of whiskey—a comforting blend that felt like home. The brothers were scattered around, some tinkering with their bikes, others deep in conversation about our latest shipment.

Sometimes I accidentally disturbed some of the wildlife, but I tried not to get in way of anything. With every step, I keep my senses completely open. Listening for any movement around me, watching for everything, or a whiff of a scent. It was quiet and the forest seemed almost mystical. Usually, there was a wide open space that everything spread out. From the trees, to the foliage, to even the bugs and wildlife, everything was so much more condensed here.

Amid the crisp sound of glasses colliding, I took a sip of the cold beer. The chill slid down my throat, but somehow, it warmed my heart. The road ahead was long, yet there was no reason to look back. Somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, an open wilderness was still waiting for me.

It wasn’t always like this. WildWood was once just a quiet, peaceful forest, nestled on the edge of a small, isolated town in Terrell. The land had long been sacred to the indigenous tribes that once lived there, revered for its beauty and tranquility. They spoke of spirits, of ancient forces that resided within the trees, but these were merely stories — tales meant to keep children close to home, out of the dark places of the woods.

I say, and he smirks. "You sought me out, Adahleene." He tsks, and I freeze. "I didn't. Leave." I say, mind reeling. "Easy," He says, hands crossed, with a persistent smile. "Before you call your sugar daddy, listen to me. I am Wilder, and you did seek me out, Flower. A part of you, your mind recognized it, and falted, seeking me out, hence, here I am." I stare at him, saying nothing, hoping he explains what this is, or I'll scream bloody murder, faster than he can say Flower.

And as Lyra turned and began to lead us deeper into the terrifying, magical forest, with Nyx gliding effortlessly behind us like a patient shadow, I knew with a sinking certainty that I had just saved us from immediate annihilation only to sell our souls to a prolonged, and likely far more creative, damnation. The Wildwood was a living, breathing nightmare of beauty. Trees with bark like polished obsander hummed with latent power, their leaves whispering secrets in a language of rustles and chimes. Flowers bloomed with light instead of color, and the very air tasted of ozone and untamed potential. It should have been wondrous. Instead, it felt like walking thr

I’m looking over the meeting minutes and ticking places off the map when Tru’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, “Would the Willow know where to find the stone?” I pause for a moment. Willow is considered the spirit of the forests and trees. She’s old and wise and knows many things. Anything that happens close to trees, she will see it. Speaking with her is dangerous. Humans and other creatures have destroyed many different forests. Special huldra were created to protect her. The huldra would begin to sing if a man entered the forest where Willow dwells. The intruder would follow the sound, and the huldra would lure them deeper into the forest. Then if the man was lucky, he is given a quick d

He takes my hand and we start walking towards the woods. The path is carpeted with a tapestry of soft moss and delicate wildflowers. Each step forward reveals a world teeming with enchantment and a secret that’s waiting to be unraveled. The air is thick with the fragrance of blooming blossoms. An aroma of damp soil and ancient tree trunks mingles with the earthly smell. The melody of birds singing and the gentle sound of a stream flowing echoes in my ears. We walk deeper into the woods, filled with majestic oak trees and towering pines, until we stop at a fallen oak.

Thankfully though she and Ricky are really good friends. The music changes and the doors open again. Wilder sits Lucy down and she takes the basket of flower petals that we offer her. Val hasn't let go of her basket since she woke up this morning. She even took it to the bathroom with her because she was afraid she would lose it if she turned it loose. She wouldn't let anyone touch it, even going so far as to fill it with flowers herself. It's really kind of adorable.

Three days after Whitfield's arrest the city exhaled. Sienna felt it before she understood it, the specific shift in the atmosphere that happened when something that had been pressing against a place for a long time was finally removed. Not celebration exactly. Not relief in any simple form. The particular quality of a city that had been living with something wrong inside it for nine years and was only now, tentatively, beginning to understand that the wrong thing was gone.