A Deadly Wandering Novels & Stories

"Get up. Now!" A searing, bone-deep pain shot through my arm. I couldn't help frowning and groaning in pain. "Do you have to act like you're half-dead so that the whole world will think I'm abusing you?" she screamed. Someone clearly couldn't take it anymore and said, "That's not what we meant. That slide is what, 12 feet high? In the worst-case scenario, he really could've died!" However, Mom's voice was colder than snow seeping through my shoes in winter. "Hmph. He's not dying that easily. Bad weeds grow tall!"

"Most likely." His gaze sweeps over the next page. "It says the Wanderers with special abilities are human, and it only manifests once in their lifetime. The powers are triggered by intense emotions and it often happens in a moment of crisis. They are often mistaken to be supernatural entities," he looks at me. "Like werewolves and witches." "So, a Wanderer?" He nods. "Yeah." Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a frustrated groan. "I can't believe we thought she was like us."

the head elder continued, his voice resolute. "There are whispers of a group known as the 'Dark Fangs'," the head elder revealed, his voice carrying a hint of gravity. "They are a clandestine organization of rogue werewolves seeking dominance over all packs. Their numbers grow by the day as we have information that more rogues are moving to join their pack, and their actions have become increasingly brazen."

Thus, how scarce the cultivation resources for wandering warriors and rogue cultivators were! Only the great sects were the kingly way. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, there was a maze of existence with winding tunnels extending in all directions. Each fork in the road had three or four roads leading to different directions, and as the deeper the tunnel was, the more bodies on the ground. They were wandering warriors who were just killed, and apparently they were fighting for something. Without being governed by the light on the ground and the game rules, all horrible things could happen in the darkness.

It smelled like copper and wet fur. "We need an exit vector," Barzil said. His voice was steady, but his eyes were darting, searching the trap we’d walked into. "Wolfy?" Pressure built behind my eyes. A migraine spike, sharp and blinding. I forced my brain to work, to ignore the terror clawing at my throat. North: The Walker. Death. East and West: Sheer cliffs of unstable scrap. Climbable, but slow. We would be picked off like insects on a wall. Death. South...

Dalton's POV My father's voice echoed in my head from childhood. "Never enter the Dead Zones, son. Wolves who go in don't come out the same that’s if they come out at all." He had told stories of wolves who turned feral, their humanity stripped away from them. Others who walked in circles until they died of thirst, unable to find their way out. The Dead Zones were where wolf instincts failed, where our greatest strengths became our deepest weaknesses. But they were also completely off the grid. No signals penetrated those areas, and no satellites could track movement. Whatever made them deadly to wolves also made them invisible to technology.

“Selene, you’re changing. And not the way newborn wolves do. Something older woke up in you last night. If you stay blind to it, you’ll get yourself killed. Or worse, you’ll bring that thing back.” My heart hammered in my ears. “What thing?” The rogues exchanged uneasy glances. Nira spoke barely above a whisper. “We call them Shades. Wolves who died without shifting… and didn’t stay dead.” Arden’s jaw locked. “Shut. Up.” “Why?” Nira demanded. “Because she deserves to know what hunts her? What hunts anyone like her?” I stepped between them before Arden could snap. “Enough. Both of you.” Arden’s chest rose and fell hard. This wasn’t anger—it was fear. Of what Nira was saying. Of me hearing it.

A map was stretched across the stone table, and on it, seven different locations had been marked. "We’re tracking confirmed awakenings," Xander said. "Girls, mostly. One or two young men. All under twenty. All with no apparent bond, no scent, no shift." "Hollow-Blooded," I murmured. Xander nodded. "And they’re not all peaceful. The one from Haleth she killed an elder before setting fire to the pack house." "What about the one from Grayharbor?" Rafael asked. Dahlia answered. "She vanished. Left a message burned into the grass: We are not mistakes."

"You're a walking target. Don Pedro wants you killed. It's on the dark web. The second you go outside this building someone will be waiting to collect his bounty.” Diego let out a slow breath, his fingertips trembling on his knee. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what I was saying was the truth. "So what are you suggesting?" he said, his tone level low. I smirked. “The best thing you can do is disappear.” His expression darkened. "You mean run." I shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. But the moment you go back out into the world, you are a dead man.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “What if I don’t want to run?

DWYER. "You should stay away from her. She's a fucking reporter! You said you wanted to keep me safe but that doesn't mean I can't keep you safe too and being with her is dangerous for you both, don't you get it? It all went wrong the moment she saw you"