Novel & Cerita Books Like Warrior Cats

“Are you guys ready to finally do as we were formed to do?” My eyes glared at Callighan as he lifted his head up to the sky. Once that loud howl came from him, we all prepared ourselves as the wolves charged at us altogether. All we could do was fight to our hearts desire. One charged at me and right when I thought life was over for me, the gunshots came right after him. Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! However, those shots were not enough… -To Be Continued- The End of Book 2

While lycans that copulate with werewolves give birth to lycans (although the theory hasn't been proven. Author's note: Hello everyone, this is my first story here, I hope I receive some amount of love. Thank you guys so much. Also, thank you for giving this book a try. CHAPTER ONE — KARINA AGAFONOV. The year 3005 marked the worst year in the history of mankind. It was the year of the great war — a war between humans and werewolves. The war was devastating, shaking the state of the world in all aspects. Nations fell, businesses were lost and even the great men felt the impact of the war. Eventually the war ended — in the early year 3006, leaving billions across the world to perish to their d

No time to waste, we need to get over to my Pack fast. “Mari, what’s the hurry? And what was that back there? You’re only provoking them. They won’t aid us at all” Winter raises as we race down the stairs and outside the building to see my Chimera scaring the warriors to death with her indignant snarls. “What’s the need to count on them when we’ve got something worth a million Bears and Wild cats?”

I wasn't ready to be a Luna of a dove, bowing down and smiling gibberish to the people and my so-called Alpha or speaking unnecessary items with the women, I wanted to be a Luna of steel, a warrior Luna as I fight and take off every infiltrating rogue and supernatural dangerous enemies that seem to be poking around to cause a stir. I've lived all my life fighting, I never had a teacher except my and my father exiled all the female warriors in the Red Stone Pack to prevent me from learning from them while growing up. The male warriors were never seen around the Pack mansion as he knew that I would ask for their guidance.

H y u n. I... a m... g o i n g... t i... r i p... o f f... y o u r... f i n g e r s... i f... y o u... d a r e d... t o... t o u c h... t h a t... b o o k... a n d... I... a m... f u * k i n g... s e r i o u s." She warnyth wolf spirit who gulped as his hand paused in mid air.

I clarified. "Wait—what are you trying to say?" I didn't know how to put it in a way that does not offend her, hence I just stayed quiet about it and just described to her what the specific contents of the book may entail. Thankfully, she obliged without a word. After relentless scouring and searching, we eventually stumbled upon one that met my criteria. It was a journal—a journal authored by a former warrior of the Great Rift. "Are you sure this is what you're looking for? Not a textbook?"

The next few pages show how the wolves didn’t eat the child, but took her with them. Then the illustrations jump to a battle scene, full of death and carnage. Bodies on the ground, and what looked like people and beasts fighting each other. Page after page showed carnage and blood, some images might be a little graphic to have in the Library to be honest. “If this book is about war, then what does the girl surrounded by wolves, from the first page have to do with anything?” The more I look through the book the more confused I become by the first few pages.

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

The transition from "Ascended Monarchs" to "starving shifters" happened remarkably fast. For hours, we were buried in vellum and leather. We moved through stacks of ancient scrolls, but it seemed the Great Library of the Queens had a sense of humor—or a very mundane side. We found "The Little Dragon Who Lost His Spark," a three-volume set on the proper way to tax wool in the fourteenth century, and a surprisingly aggressive book on the ethics of herbalism.

We collided, claws and teeth flashing in the dark. But I was too angry. My rage made me reckless. Marcus took advantage of an opening in my attack and sank his teeth into my back leg. Searing pain sent me stumbling. Then Lila shifted. A silver she-wolf. Beautiful and deadly. They ganged up on me. I was quickly outmatched. Blood poured from a dozen wounds, staining the warehouse floor red. Finally, I crashed to the ground, unable to get up. Marcus and Lila shifted back, looming over me.