Bramblestar Warriors 소설 & 이야기

"I'm still sorry. You—I don't know. Evan's handling this all so terribly—all because he's jealous or something. It's just—it's not fair. You've done nothing wrong, you shouldn't have to take crap from him and—he just—he went too far." Zac tried to fight a smile. "You worried about me, Bloom?" I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away to smack his arm. "Shut up. I don't want you getting into physical fights because of me, Zac." He shrugged again, leaning back slightly. "I can take a few hits. It's not on you, Bloom." I was growing frustrated. As glad as I was that Zac wasn't mad at me, I also didn't understand it. This is Zac Miller we're talking about. He doesn't take crap from anyone so why is

I was flying on the road and in a few minutes, I appeared on the northern border of the Blood Moon Pack and my insides went cold with what I saw. There were warriors arriving at the border, there were many of them and I could not tell from which pack they were from, but it was clear that they were not all from Jade’s father. I drove the truck into the woods then stopped and jumped out. I ran to them full speed. The Blood Moon warriors met them before they could get to the border, and they were fighting for dear life. When I got close, I yelled to my warriors. “Blood Moon! This is your Luna Sara, make sure these dogs die here. Don’t let them make it to our loved ones.” My pack heard me, and t

Chet stops beside me, his body tense, alert. Then—a roar of snarls, the clash of bodies. We slink forward, keepin’ to the shadows, approachin’ the noise with careful steps. Through the trees, we see them. Two groups of men. They ain’t settlers. And they ain’t part of our pack. These are warriors. Native warriors—but from two different tribes. They’re locked in battle, blades flashin’, fists flyin’, their shouts sharp and guttural. Blood stains the ground beneath them, their fight blendin’ with the last remnants of the storm—mud and violence mixed into one.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

He met the first wolf before it reached her and he did not fight it so much as delete it, fast and total and without a wasted motion, and then the second, and the third, and I got to his side in time to take the fourth off his blind shoulder, and we put our backs to Amara and her invisible rope and we held the high rock. I had time, between wolves, for exactly one look at the rest of it, and I wish I hadn't taken it. The throat had broken. Bram's beautiful killing-ground had done its work and then been swallowed... and Bram was down off the blind now, on the open floor of the bowl, fighting in the ugly close way. Two of the Seventeen were on the ground and not getting up. The scout had her b

Tribiano’s warriors rallied behind him, their spirits lifted by his sudden resurgence. The enemy, realizing they had underestimated the pack’s resolve, tried to regroup, but it was too late. Alex was relentless, leading the charge to free the elders and push the invaders back. With a final, thunderous roar, Alex struck down the last of the enemy’s commanders, leaving the rest of them in disarray. The battle was over, and victory belonged to Tribiano.

Her sky-blue eyes drilled holes behind Hakan’s head, flashing the three muscular men a smirk whenever their eyes would wander over to where she was. “Then, I’ll be leaving Richard in charge while I go out to the city. Check the borders, I’ve been hearing talks about rogue wolves roaming around the forest from our hunters.” The man called Richard stepped up before bowing his head, as he received orders from his alpha. The three burly men left immediately when Hakan dismissed the group, turning around to face Skye with her arms crossed and looking bored.

It’s the way the camp has started to breathe differently around me—quiet in some corners, too alert in others. By the time I reach the armory tent, two rogues are already inside, oiling weapons. One of them—Taron—looks up too quickly when I step in, then clears his throat and pretends to focus on his sword again. The other, Bram, gives me a nod, polite but not steady. “Everything running fine?” I ask, forcing normal into my voice. “Yes, Celine,” Bram answers. The name comes out clipped, like it doesn’t fit in his mouth anymore.

he said low, “would be us declaring war on our own kind. On the Moon Goddess herself. On the Dark Fae King and his warriors. On a pack protected by Venom-blood, and that child!! he is a Storm child, I've heard the prophecy. The power he weilds is...I can't even imagine.” “And on the Goddess Herself.” His voice softened — not weak — resigned: “We cannot win that war.” The radios clicked off. No one argued. Only Bram stared out the window — eyes cold — jaw locked — a personal storm still twisting behind his silence. His vendetta was not finished. But he now knew this — If he moved alone… He would die alone. And still… He wanted to try.

She had to work harder than any other apprentice in order to gain her leader's approval. Longkit, Bramblekit, Marshkit and Newtkit had finally become apprentices. Because there was a shortage of warriors, Russetstar had made Snowstorm a mentor at a very young age. She was mentoring Marshpaw, a young apprentice with what felt like boundless energy. Talonclaw mentored his own son, Bramblepaw. Sleetstorm and Nightclaw got Longpaw and Newtpaw as apprentices.