Coyote Shivers Novels & Stories

LILA’S POV The Chicago wind clawed at my skin, slicing through my thin coat as I sprinted across the slick concrete toward the Blizzard’s practice arena. My boots skidded, nearly sending me sprawling, but I caught myself, heart hammering like a puck slammed into the boards. I was late. Again. Five minutes late.

Rhys followed, his sleeker wolf form shivering as he maintained the digital link. Kael stood in the center. He didn't shift yet. He looked up at the sky, imagining the Citadel of the Shards hidden in the Arctic clouds. "Elara," he whispered. "If you can hear me... fight." He shifted. A roar ripped from his throat—a sound of pure, unadulterated defiance that shook the remaining glass in the stadium. The Shiver in the Shards Inside the Citadel, the "Ice" signal was reaching peak saturation. Director Vane stood at the console, her hand over the "Global Deployment" switch.

Raven bolted into the forest. She ran through dark trees and dense undergrowth, her paws finding purchase on wet earth, her wolf senses opening up to a world of smell and sound and sensation that her human consciousness had forgotten existed. She could smell the forest—pine and rot and rain. She could hear the heartbeats of animals moving through branches. She could feel the particular awareness of predators recognizing another predator. And she could feel Ash's presence drawing closer through the bond. She ran faster. By dawn, Raven had exhausted herself enough to shift back to human form.

A white diamond-shaped tattoo gleams on its forehead, catching the faint light and casting eerie shadows. The wolf’s growl reverberates through the trees, vibrating through my bones. Fear grips me, and I instinctively begin to crawl backward, my hands trembling. But the wolf halts its advance, its eyes locking with mine, its growl softening into a mournful, almost sympathetic sound.

the man commanded, his voice laced with an unsettling mix of curiosity and malice. The coyote, cowering under the weight of the man's gaze, dared not hesitate. He recounted the encounter in detail, describing Tiffany and Hailey's presence, their discovery of the whistle, and their subsequent use of it. The coyote conveyed the awe and respect the girls had shown towards the magnificent lycanthrope. As the coyote finished his account, the man's smile grew wider, revealing a set of sharp, menacing teeth. He walked closer to the coyote, his footsteps echoing ominously in the room.

He crouched, reached out like he might touch the bark, then froze. A sound rose through the trees a long, low howl that didn’t sound like any dog or coyote Aiden had ever heard. It was too deep. Too sad. And too close. They both stood frozen. “That’s not a coyote,” Aiden whispered. “No,” Cass said softly. “It’s not.” Then there was movement. Fast. Too fast to see clearly. Just a flicker between the trees. Aiden’s stomach dropped. “You saw that, right?” he asked.

“ Cain, I already told you—” Something rustled past the dark trees and lunged right towards her, the scent of a rotten corpse and damp forest ground wafted over her as a swift figure swept past her. Coyote. Her eyes snapped at the figure as she unsheathed her claws, she jumped at the coyote just as two silvery objects came flying right at her and sunk into her skin, causing a painful hiss to escape her lips. Totally enraged, her wolf lunged right against her wanting to shift and take care of the threat that was in front of them.

He cleared his throat, hugged his knees while nervously biting on the toothpick in the corner of his lips. "Hi," she greeted him. "Hey," he nodded. She wore a dress with the skirt just above the knee. The fabric was light and loose. It hiked up when she sat, showing parts of her skin, glowing as the bonfire reflected on them. He tried not to look. He can smell the scent of her body lotion when she moved around beside him. He sucked on his beer bottle, hoping it could ease a little bit of his suffering.

The Valley of Shadows loomed before us, its eerie stillness seemingly alive with the weight of our unspoken fears. We exchanged a solemn glance, steeling ourselves for the trials that awaited. As we ventured deeper into the darkness, the air grew heavy, suffused with a sense of foreboding. Shadows danced and writhed, taking on eerie forms that whispered haunting melodies in our ears. The very essence of the valley seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. "What could possibly be waiting for us in this forsaken place?" Malachi wondered aloud, his voice hushed and filled with a mix of anticipation and caution.

She ran her fingers through it and smiled. "You're so fluffy." Greyson stared at her with a blank expression, if wolves even had expressions. *Fluffy?* Indianna smirked. "Yeah." *Don't call me fluffy, sugar,* Greyson muttered. "Why?" Indianna asked. *Does it damage your manly demeanour?* Greyson just stared at her in his wolf form and suddenly he started to shake. Indianna stepped back in shock and watched as Greyson shrunk and his dark hair turned into tattooed skin. Within seconds human Greyson was standing in front of Indianna. Naked.