Cherokee Stories Novels & Stories

Danté asked. "Not sure, nothing much is elaborated about it, so far its only talks and tales, it's originating from Cherokee folklore and a name here of an ancient Shaman named Blair" "Blair?" "Cherokee Indian" Liam said looking at him. Danté sat back thinking, they all knew of Vlad Dracul, the supposed first vampire, but it was never spoken of any first wolf, or great wolf, maybe only a werewolf will know the full story. "What if we ask a werewolf?" Danté asked "An old one?"

Zahra whispered, not minding to hide the fear in her voice, “But why had they set fifteen huts ablaze?” “I can’t say for sure,” Dodo turned her attention to Zahra, “But my mother told me a story of how the three Kingdoms, after hunting, danced around a campfire. You want to hear the story?” “No,” Zahra and Ginika said in unison. They were not prepared to hear Dodo’s unending tale. She would only end up telling them of how her great, great, great grandmother, told her great, great grandmother and her great grandmother, to her… Her stories usually leave one hungry and light-headed, or it would knock you out.

“No, no, you don’t get it. That’s not just prophecy fluff. That’s a story from my people.” Chelsea sat up straighter, instantly alert. “Okay, now you have our attention.” Serenya’s breath came fast, but her voice was steady. “When I was a kid, my chief used to tell us bedtime stories. Not the sweet kind. The real ones—the kind that taught you who you were and where you came from. He always said we were the last of the Horseborn. The final herd. That we’d been hunted nearly to extinction centuries ago, until only our tribe remained.”

That only the gifted are able to connect with them. The illustrations in the book illuminated traditional stories of the tribe. Some that reflect a near extinction of the coven, and others telling the story of great wars won at the hands of the tribe members. "What can they do that's so special? Something so bad that the wolves massacred them?" I asked, still entranced by the pages of the book. When I glance up to see Katherine's eyes gleaming with tears, I instantly feel bad about my choice of words. Being trapped for 13 years has really put a damper on my social skills.

Uncle Quinn yells with his arms stretched out to the start sky: “Eithinoha, sacred Mother Earth of our Cherokee people, Geyaguga, Moon goodness, we lycans offer part of our strength to this warrior, Adam Vaugh. A brave lycan, valiant, another one of your wolves, one of your children, that asks for you blessing. The stars, drops of dew, the magic of the growing dark hours, together with our howl, our flesh, our blood, all of us, together, your children, the children of the night, we are joined together and we ask you long life and health for Adam Vaugh to be accepted.”

She realized that stories had the ability to transcend language and cultural barriers, touching the hearts of people from all walks of life. With this newfound insight, Luna embarked on a project to collect and share stories from individuals in Seoul. She sought out locals, immigrants, and travelers alike, listening to their personal narratives and experiences. These stories ranged from tales of triumph and resilience to accounts of cultural traditions and the bonds forged through shared humanity.

My fingertips gently caressed the cover as my eyes never left it. "My family has had this heirloom in the family for generations. Fathers would pass it down to their sons, but all of their children knew about it. It was the son's responsibility to carry it forward, since they would be the ones to carry the name. It was told that we were entrusted with something very important. A secret... a weapon... and one day the person that gave us this responsibility would return. Talako was the name of one of my ancestors on my father side. He was a Choctaw, but ended up leaving due to his parents being killed. His mother gave him to a friend. Some natives were wolves, but not all of them. The wolves p

“My friends, our journey is long. Let’s save this for another day, would everyone agree?” After a pondering pause, all heads nodded in agreement. “Now, I have a story to tell.” He scooped a blue powder and tossed it into the bonfire. “Once upon a time….” The flame burst again, but this time, fiery images of animals, humans, and landscapes appeared. From the Greek heroes like Perseus and Jason, the adventures of Thor and Loki, and to the African spider god, Anansi, which was our first time hearing it, every story he told was brought to life by the flame.

It’s better for me to get our of here before my cock getting even harder, at the point of being able to cut this cake. After my uncle and aunts left, only our family, we stayed sitting in the back yard around the fire, remembering the time with our parents in the Alaska reserve. Damy offered me a cup of hot chocolate and asked me if I still remembered the story that mom used you tell, the legend of the Cherokee elder, and I nodded. Kayden asked me to tell it, saying: “Tell us, Hunter, we want to hear it.” I held my daughter tight on my lap, remembering what mom used to say to my brothers, because of our explosive temperament, this legend seemed to be made specially for me.

Kian just shrugged, only saying, “My pack are nomads, and the passing of stories have been our tradition for centuries.” The sun was getting lower in the sky, I could feel the air growing ever colder with each minute, and a lot of it was the chill from Kian’s story. We couldn’t just stand out here any longer. I turned to Nick and said,