Another Name For Outcast Novels & Stories

A familiar but disgusting scent reached my nose as well, trying to overpower that of Calla. I knew who they were. “Rogues.” My beast roared inwardly, seeking bloodshed but I had to pry silently, then attack them unexpectedly. Rogues are wolves that have been banished from a pack and now roams freely. Rogues are widely despised because they are seen as outcasts, people who had betrayed the pack as a whole. Their presence wasn't welcome anywhere. The rogues at that point in time weren't my main problem, my eyes keenly scanned the area where her scent lingered heavily.

She would only see me as a psycho who needed help and the last thing I wanted was to be branded as one and get kicked out. If they kicked me out, I had nowhere to go and going back to my pack wasn't an option at all. Still, I couldn't think of something sensible to say and time was running out and I could tell that her patience was running thin. My thoughts were all scattered in haphazard ways and I hated it because I couldn't freely tell her who I really was without the fear of being branded as a freak and an outcast who wasn't loved at home.

“And what if I am? Out cast.” “What did you call me?” “An outcast that's what you are, half a witch and barely have a wolf your people won't accept you and neither will the witches after what you did.” “If I really am an outcast why are your people after me?” I asked forcing the pain out of my voice. “Because we are planning to take down the wolves get revenge for what they did to us, it's their time to go extinct and the witches rise!” I paused realizing this was bigger than I imagined.

He might even go as far as ostracizing us from the pack. What would become of my family and me if we lose our jobs and shelter and we are ostracized from the pack? We would become outcasts and destitute and start wandering around the city in despair. I know we can go to other rival packs but the big question is, will they accept us? They might probably do but if they don't, what will become of me and my family? I thought as I shuddered in trepidation.

“I hate facing their rejection, their hatred, their fear of me. That was once my pack. Now, it’s like I’m this awful stranger they’re trying to be rid of. They look at me like I’m a monster.” “I understand that,” I say, thinking back to how both of the packs I was once part of view me now. “It’s so difficult. Being an outcast is lonely, painful, just awful. “But I’m here with you now. I know that doesn’t change everything, but it does mean you don’t have to face it on your own. We’re in this together. Maybe with me there, it’ll sting less.” “It would,” he admits. “Everything is better when you’re with me. But I also don’t want to drag you into more danger.”

“I never hanged out to them, though.” “Why not?” “Why would I?” I bit my tongue, before I looked at him. “Is that not the reason why you often come here?” “Certainly not.” His reply was quick. “How about you?” “I don’t party, Conrad.” I removed my hands on the railings to turn around. “I probably haven’t tell you, but I used to be an outcast.” “Outcast?” He repeated. His eyes intently looking at me. “Were you discriminated?”

I’m not sure what it is; he used both terms, so I'm still a bit confused. There were different packs, tribes, and flocks here made of the same shifters. Werewolves lived with werewolves—werecats with werecats and so on - but not his pack. Apparently, many other shifters didn’t even acknowledge them as a pack or tribe. Most members were outcasts in their former pack, loners and travelers, or banished for one reason or the other. Considering many of them were seen as criminals, they also had a bad reputation.

If I don't meet my mate, I have to wait. Twice a year, all mateless/wolfless wolves go on "the hunt." We gather at the center of the world, which is called Outcast. It is where all the wolves who are rejected or mateless live. At Outcast, there is no fighting. It is neutral ground available for those who need it. So enemy packs are forbidden from fighting there. Everyone is there with one goal in mind, to find our match made specifically for us.

Veronica’s POV Another year had passed. I had aged by one year. But yet no one seems to care. I had always been the outcast in my pack. Never been able to fit in anywhere. They have always called me a rouge, a disappointment, even a disgrace. My life has always been horrible. A life full of hurtful words, which cut deeper than any sword that I have ever polished.

It was a bit cliche he'd admit but he guessed his parents just wanted the name to be as obvious as it could be, they had that sort of humour. Outsiders usually called them the Halem pack, it was easier for them that way, while they called themselves Moonlight; it was easier for them this way. At the mention of the pack name they finally understood that they could raise up their head. Still the newest pack members found it hard to look Jason in the eye, choosing to focus on some part of the room, feigning that it was the most important thing they had ever seen.