The Forest of Beorn

The Forest of Beorn is the resting place of one of the oldest leaders in England, before the nation itself was united. He was tyrannical and selfish, with the intelligence and brutality to uphold his rule. Once he died the people rejoiced and buried him in a far forest, but now his name has been forgotten to history though his presence in the forest has only grown. All plants and creatures in the forest bear a part of his soul and desire what he did. They want wives and riches and all the influence it can grab.

Emma Myers wanders through the woods. As she walks in, the forest takes notice of her, her cute face, her modest but firm tits, small ass, but there's something appealing about her, her brown wavy hair, her flawless skin, beautiful grey/blue eyes and good hip to waist ratio. She is a perfect vessel.

She wore a simple striped top, faded blue jeans and some worn trainers.

The spirit of the old king sees her wandering, through the eyes of the forest's birds and fauna. He keeps them back from her, wanting to give her a false sense of normalcy and safety.

As Emma wanders deeper into the forest, the trees seem to close in around her, their leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze. Sunlight filters through the canopy, dappling the forest floor with golden patches. At first glance, everything appears peaceful and serene.

The forest observes her every move, drinking in the sight of her lithe form and delicate features. It marvels at the way her hair catches the light, the graceful sway of her hips as she walks. A thrill of anticipation runs through the very roots and branches - soon, this delectable morsel would be theirs to savor.

The forest silent guides her footsteps, imperceptibly shifting the flora to alter her path, drawing her deeper into its verdant embrace.

Emma continues her leisurely stroll through the enchanting woodland, blissfully unaware of the sinister intentions lurking within the very trees surrounding her. She pauses to admire a particularly vibrant wildflower growing by the side of the narrow dirt path, leaning down to inhale its sweet fragrance.

She murmurs to herself, a soft smile playing across her full lips. Straightening up, she glances around at the towering oaks and elms, their leaves whispering secrets in the wind. An odd shiver runs down her spine, but she attributes it to the slight chill in the air and presses on, eager to explore further into the heart of the ancient forest.

The deeper into the forest, the closer to his resting place, the stronger Beorn's influence on the plants and animals become.

But still, the fauna holds back. This precious form is too important to risk getting away. The birds in the canopies follow her trail.

As Emma ventures deeper into the woods, an unsettling feeling begins to creep over her. The once inviting sunlight seems to dim slightly, and the usual sounds of birdsong have fallen eerily quiet. She hugs her arms around herself, rubbing at the goosebumps rising on her skin.

She mutters, shaking her head.

Despite her attempts to reassure herself, unease gnaws at the pit of her stomach. The trees loom ever taller, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers.

The forest thought.

A nearby stag, it's eyes glowing with the spirit of Beorn's hypnotic power, approaches gently. As it emerges from the underbrush, its antlers gleaming in the filtered light. But she sees something unnatural in its eyes, boring into Emma with an almost hypnotic intensity.

Emma freezes, her heart leaping into her throat as the majestic creature approaches with slow, deliberate steps. Up close, she can see that its fur is unnaturally sleek and healthy, almost seeming to ripple with an inner energy. The stag lowers its head, sniffing the air near her face, its hot breath washing over her skin. Despite her fear, Emma finds herself inexplicably drawn to its mesmerizing gaze, her own eyes widening as she stares back, transfixed.

As if in a trance, Emma reaches out a trembling hand to stroke the stag's silky fur, her fingertips tingling at the contact. The animal nuzzles into her touch, then turns and begins to walk deeper into the forest, clearly expecting her to follow.

In a daze, Emma allows herself to be led, her feet moving as if of their own accord. The trees seem to part before them, creating a clear path winding between the trunks. Strange symbols begin to appear etched into the bark, pulsing with an eerie green light. The air grows heavy with an ancient, malevolent energy.

Finally, they emerge into a small clearing dominated by a massive, gnarled oak tree. Its trunk is twisted, Beorn's body was laid to rest here over a millennium ago.

The stag lowers it's head towards Emma, keeping its eyes open and visible to her.

Almost robotically, Emma's slender fingers caressing the stags smooth forehead. As she does, she finds herself staring directly into those mesmerizing, glowing eyes. The swirling patterns seem to expand, filling her vision until nothing else exists.

A wave of dizziness washes over her and she sways on her feet, her knees going weak. The last thing she sees before darkness claims her is the twisted, pulsing oak tree looming before her.

Emma's consciousness fades as she collapses to the forest floor in a dead faint, her body crumpling bonelessly against the carpet of moss and fallen leaves. The stag watches impassively as she lies there, unmoving, its job complete.

As the soil around Emma slowly begins to swallow her whole, the stag wonders back into the dense forest. Emma is completely submerged into the ground, some soil even getting in her ears, nose and mouth. Beorn regards her, learning who she is. The soil speaks to her, changes her, ever so slightly.

Her body raises from the ground, dirt still in her mouth, nose and ears. Her clothes are covered in soil, slightly damp from the wet earth.

Emma gasps and coughs as she rises from the earth, spewing out clumps of soil from her mouth and nostrils. She blinks rapidly, disoriented, as the world comes back into focus. Glancing down at herself, she grimaces at the state of her clothes, now filthy and damp.

But as the fog clears from her mind, Emma feels a strange sensation wash over her - a deep, bone-deep loyalty and obedience settling into her very core. She looks up at the twisted oak tree, suddenly understanding that it is the source of this newfound devotion.

She says, her voice hoarse but steady.

She bows her head respectfully, awaiting her next order.