Arthur Conan Doyle The Hound Of The Baskervilles Mga Nobela at Kwento

Only when I had put enough distance between myself and the clearing did I finally glance down at the crumpled chit still clenched in my fist. One single word was scrawled there: BISON. I stumbled slightly, disbelief punching the air from my chest. A bison? Were they serious? Massive, horned beasts, nearly impossible to take down alone, even for an experienced hunter. But there was no time to curse my luck. Behind me, the ground shook from the weight of something heavy moving through the forest. Fast and violent. I twisted my head and caught a glimpse through the trees. A large wolf with sleek black fur and glowing eyes tearing through the underbrush—Dante. Not Ronan.

Sophie's POV **The Blackout** The gunshot's echo still vibrated in my teeth when the emergency lights died. Arthur's signet ring - the Blackstone crest edged with blood diamonds - bit deeper into my throat as the world plunged into absolute darkness. His breath was hot and rancid against my cheek, smelling of antiseptic and the faint metallic tang of the cancer eating him from within. "Clever boy," Arthur rasped, his Russian accent thickening with adrenaline. His free hand yanked my hair back, exposing my neck. "But electricity won't stop what's coming."

Transferring our body heat as her breasts pushed against my bare chest. Suddenly, her head spun around, alarm flaring in her eyes, now frozen in panic. I listened but heard nothing. Her ears perked. Sounds of soft steps pressed down, compacting the snow as branches ruffled. Then I saw it - a huge brown wolf emerged from the shrubs. Its mouth sneered, showcasing razor-like canines. Immediately, I threw Fiona behind me and went for my knives.

I whispered into the dark. The first hound reached me in a fraction of a second, its foul, sulfurous breath washing over my face. I didn't step back. I dropped low, bending my knees, slipping beneath the beast’s leaping trajectory with blinding, unnatural speed. As its massive underbelly passed over my head, I drove my bare left palm upward into its sternum. BOOM!

and dove to the ground. A hunter entered the area with a lethal crossbow in his hands and a hood covering his face. The weapon was engraved with Damon's emblem, a jagged claw. With a snarl, Aiden sprang forward, his wolf emerging. Aiden was quicker than the hunter, pushing the weapon aside and slamming the assailant to the ground as he fired another bolt.

Alpha Aidan explained as Archer and I joined the group of people huddled around the desk, whilst Darren hurriedly flipped through. “Here it is! The Tale of The Flesh Eaters, written by Arthur Bartley. It is said that Arthur saw these creatures one day which inspired the book.” Darren explained with a smile standing back so we all could see the story he was very proud to find, I mean this was only further validating the claims he’s been making.

The old man then pulled me behind him and raised his hand. When he did, the wolves whined and whimpered before retreating. A shiver ran up and down my spine as he raised his hand, but, at the time, I just thought that he was really good with dogs. Arthur coming out of hiding and nuzzling the old man backed this idea, but I got confused again when he called him master. Was he just really good with animals? Or did Arthur betray us?

I wrap my arms around his waist and steal a glance over my shoulder, biting back a gasp as books lift off the ground and his shadows dance in the shape of… wolves. “Aris?” A roar rips from the darkness. I can’t choke back the scream of alarm that escapes my throat, especially when Aris whirls around, shoves me into the shadows, and disappears in a gust of silver smoke. He’s completely invisible. A shadow. And then… the battle ensues. *** “You need to explain why,” Aris snarls, his hands braced on Arthur’s cluttered desk, “why the fuck you had a hellhound hidden in the archives!”

I wasn't squeamish about it as I had thought I would be. They were eight, and we had successfully put down three. There were five more to go. The three of us came together with our backs against each other so our guns can be pointed on all directions. The rogues were smart. They hid and growled in the dark. After waiting for almost a minute without an attack, I decided to fight them as if they were vampires, using all my senses. I closed my eyes and listened. Something happened to me. I could suddenly hear the faintest sound. I moved away from my colleagues and shot blindly towards the direction of the sound of the rapid wolf heartbeat that I was hearing. I got all four except one.

he cheered as he fell forward to all fours and took off after her. He didn't run her down at first, he toyed with her, stalking her, forcing her to panic. Arthur was an experienced hunter and he lived to hunt. He had her scent and took his time. Heading her in the direction he wanted. When Ivory finally got turned around, he waited, patiently as she worked her way right into his path. The wind shifted and he caught her scent. His black wolf knocked her into the thick underbrush, causing her to roll into several saplings, face down.