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Maypel was a brave rabbit by all reckoning. He wasn't the strongest or the swiftest, but he had never run from danger. He had fought a frenzied boar, swam through a flooded cave, even witnessed a demon's exorcism. But standing at the boundary of the Forbidden Forest, Maypel found himself hesitating.

The Visionaries themselves refused to follow their revelations into that dark place. They said anyone who enters forfeits their very soul and whatever secrets it hides are best left forgotten. But the legends remained: a leaf as blue as the summer sky that could cure all sickness was said to grow in the shadows of the forest's dense canopy. Maypel believed the legends; he knew in his heart that magic was real. The poisons the Visionaries brewed revealed impossible truths, gave their bodies impossible talents. All those things and more just with the bounty of nature. But nature was much stranger in the forest.

Dappled blues, reds, and purples spread across the canopy in an uncanny patchwork of dark shades. From the edge of the treeline Maypel could see pale lights glimmer in the underbrush then return to the darkness as quietly as they appeared. No one quite knew what could happen in there, but Maypel had faith that he could save his mother. He needed the Miracle Leaf. Nothing could stop him but himself. He tightened his shaking hands into a fierce grip and stepped into the shadows.

The atmosphere was quiet and cool under the canopy; no buzz of insects, no crash of game. The thought that the whole forest knew of his intrusion passed through Maypel's mind but he cast it aside before he could ruminate any further. Even so, he stalked slowly as not to disturb the somber tension, gently pushing aside branches and fronds. There was a sumptuous quality to the leaves and vines, like they were plump with fresh spring rains. The air was humid and rich with the smell of warm earth and a scent like tomatoes that were on the cusp of becoming too ripe.

It wasn't unpleasant but Maypel was put on edge by the way it penetrated him. He felt the heat in his body rising, flushing to his long ears and settling oddly in his loins. He was a young buck and no stranger to arousal but the feeling of his shaft rising against his leathers was an unbidden, unwelcome distraction. He bit the inside of his cheek and counted the ferns he noticed as he continued his trek but he continued to swell until his erection throbbed insistently against his thigh.

He pushed on despite it all, suppressing the moans that bubbled up in this throat as his erection shifted and pulsed against the soft nap of his clothes, with hope that he would simply adapt and his body would relax on its own. But another hour passed and he had nothing to show for it except a puddle of cooling precum soaked into his downy fur. He didn't dare growl for fear that something might hear him but his frustration demanded he stop when he passed into a small glade. A thick carpet of grass grew over the forest floor, sparsely dappled with faint, shifting light and a few shrubs sat impassively with their pale red leaves.

It was nearly noon but the shadows of the trees were thick as night. He crouched to rest with his back against a broad trunk and looked up at the leaves. The strange colors and the pinpricks of sunlight piercing through looked like the stars twinkling overhead. They danced among each other in time with the distant wind above, making whimsical circles before winking out then reappearing as fate allowed. Maypel felt like he was swimming in his own skull as he watched. The heat in him was too much to bear; his cock and balls ached from his defiant inattention, his loins had become a swamp of his own lust. He didn't even notice his hand was moving before he had it wrapped around his own flesh.

The wet skin shook him out of the trance the tree-stars had trapped him in but he didn't let go. He scanned the grassy clearing and decided it was mission critical. He had already trespassed in the Forbidden Forest, to lose his senses over such a petty distraction was just inviting misfortune. So he shimmied out of his breeches and stroked quickly at his length. He felt sensitive, almost raw, from so long resisting but this wasn't the time to enjoy himself. He needed to release and move on.

The wet plap of his hand against his crotch broke the silence but the only thing he could do is hurry to finish. Even in his haste, though, the sight of his precum-soaked foreskin literally frothing with lust filled him with a proud excitement. He chewed his cheek to keep from moaning as his fingers followed the bold curve of his rod to the turgid bell of its crown. His heavy balls swung pendulously to slap at his hand then again at his thighs. Both slung the forest floor with his dew while faint wisps of steam rose into the cool, not-night air. Maypel had never felt quite so virile. He wished he could savor the feeling but he didn't have time to waste. He kept stroking and stroking until he finally felt the tension rise up in him.

He let out a grunt despite himself as the first blast of his seed raced out of him. Maypel's hips rocked into his grip as a dozen more sloppy cords splattered into the dewy grass. He had never cum so much all at once before. A deep puddle the size of his paws cupped together settled on the forest floor, seeping into the soil. He winced as the thought that he shouldn't have left his scent passed through his mind. Barghests prowled the Forbidden Forest. On full moon nights, their baleful howls reached even as far as his village. He hadn't heard anything but his own hiking since he began but that didn't mean he was safe to leave evidence.

Maypel took the knife from his belt and squatted down to turn the earth, burying his mess. He still marveled at how much there was. His still naked erection was limp but not gone and pulsed with pride at how thoroughly soaked the patch of soil had become. He had enthusiasm and stamina enough for any rabbit he wasn't surprised at the urge to enjoy a second or even third game with himself but the sense that the heat still simmering in his body wasn't his own worried him. Why would this place inspire such craving? Was this part of the Forbidden Forest's curse?

He had barely hidden the fertile mud when a shudder of leaves snapped his attention back to the glade. He perked his ears tall and clutched the knife tight in his grip. Nothing moved. He waited a long moment, scanning each break in the tree line, the leaves of each of the shrubs. Nothing moved. He stayed low, nearly crawling, as he shifted toward the nearest of the shrubs. He needed another perspective. It wasn't far but Maypel needed to be cautious. He'd left his breeches by the tree but they would be too much trouble if he needed to be ready to fight and easy enough to scoop into his arms if he had to flee. His meat dagger was too tender for the confinement in either case. If he died, he would die half naked and he would just have to accept it.

Up close, the leaves of the bush looked faintly blue. Its leaves had a broad, spade shape with milky white veins. The edges were a faint but lurid shade of purple but the leaves were blue. Not a vibrant color but in the dim light he couldn't help but think of the sky. He tamped down the spark of hope in his chest

The shrubs scattered in the clearing had taken on a deep, ruddy color and their branches had moved to reveal purple flower buds, some wound closed in twisted bundles nearly the length of Maypel's arm. A glow spread from within the buds until they bloomed suddenly with an audible sigh, spewing pollen into the glade as lambent, golden motes. They drifted slowly toward the forest floor and where they fell, the grass glowed with the same ethereal light until the motes dissipated.

Maypel took the knife from his belt but left his breeches as he moved to investigate. His cock bobbed with nearly-violent arousal as he approached the still falling motes. The ripe, penetrating scent was stronger than ever. The leaves of the bushes shivered as if delighted to scatter their contents and the mottled purple blossoms settled in the shape of crystal decanters: sensously bulbous bases and slender fluted necks.

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