Climb a tree to find your way

Your journey into the Blauwalt forest begins well and calmly. You lead your sister through the heavy trunks and towering eaves of the woods, but despite your sure step, you quickly realize you don’t know where you’re going. Leaving the abbey was easy, for the only direction was away, but now that you need to find the road, it become more difficult. You know you must head east if you have any hope of finding the road, but your late start frustrates you in finding your direction, and soon, you are hopelessly lost.

You feel a deep, pervading shame at this knowledge: that you are unable to help Brigette, despite being the leader. At one point you swallow your pride and ask the green woman if she knows where to go.

“No. But don’t worry, Sabine,” Brigette says and smiles sweetly. “I believe in you.”

Her trust sends a thrill through you not known since you lost your connection to the Burning Rose, and a desire to succeed becomes even more pervasive. You set off with greater determination, though no more actual knowledge. Save a short break wherein you once more feed from Brigette’s leaking breasts, her fingers toying with your hair and the rose which you still wear, you never stop walking. After the meal, you find your clothes feel even tighter, your undergarments digging into your thighs and ass, the front pressing uncomfortably into your swollen slit. Your robes, once white, now stained by your travels a dull grey and brown, constrict your breasts painfully. You give in at last, pulling off your underwear and opening the front of your neophyte’s robes, which are at once pushed aside by your heavy breasts, who hang out, proudly jutting for any wandering eye to see. You sigh in relief and catch Brigette’s amused look. Flushing, you start out again.

The forest is wild and thick, darkening as if in spite of the noonday sun, and you realize you are likely travelling deeper into the forest. Despite this you are **** to merely turn around, and instead begin trying to find some high ground to get your bearings.

Eventually you manage to find a tall tree whose branches appear sturdy enough to take your weight. You remove the sword of the saint, momentarily torn, but recall such a weight would only get in the way right now. “Hold this,” you tell Brigette and pass her the sword. Your sister takes it and holds it close as she watches you climb.

“Be careful!” she calls.

You wave at her retreating form and climb higher. The branches slap your face and leaves tickle your skin, but eventually you achieve a good vantage. Squatting on the branch you peer out across the stretches of forest which surround you like an ocean of green, broken here and there by waves of rolling hills or the sudden islands of mountains. Even further you can make out the spires of the abbey. It’s so far. A pang of homesickness strikes you, but the warmth of Brigette’s milk in your belly strangely instead inspires peace with your separation.

“What do you see?’ Brigette calls from below.

Snapping back to attention you scan the horizon. “I see smoke,” you call down, peering at a plume of black rising from the forest. Looking away further you spot what appears to be the marble dome of a building rising from a hill. Then, further, you spot the mountain of Argil. You remember distantly hearing a mining town was built near it, but you’d also heard of harpies making their rookery in the folds of the peak. Then, of course, you see where the forest abruptly ends, and where the cliffs begin. Ships often skirted the coast you remember. You consider all these possibilities carefully. There’s not much time left in the day, after all, and letting Brigette sleep out in the open holds little appeal.