Coyote Shivers Novels & Stories

Their teeth gnashed as the bodies of ferals flew through the air. “Let me out,” Verity said. Her lips curled over her teeth and she snarled. But I’d never shifted before. I didn’t know how. And this didn’t seem like the time to try. “No,” I told her. “Not now. But can you help?” Verity responded by moving rocks on the ravine wall. Within seconds, an avalanche was barreling down the side of the mountain. Korrigan’s wolf hollered at me. His teeth bit into my sleeve and he pulled me away just in time. Behind me, Thistle and Thor stumbled backwards. Korrigan’s pack dove, narrowly missing the cascade of rocks.

Shivering I curled into a tight ball and tried to will myself anywhere else. The growling and yelping continued unabated outside and no one seemed the least bit interested in me. As the sun rose hours later I just prayed it would warm the cabin up a little. My nose was running with the cold and I was shivering almost uncontrollably. I had almost begun to relax as the room slightly warmed when the area became deathly quiet.

"He just likes to tease." "Well, you both be careful driving home." Jocelyn opened the door for them and cold air rushed in, chilling Jocelyn to the bone. She almost went back for her coat, but knew she would only be out for a moment. Jocelyn never tired of the landscape. A blanket of crisp, white snow glistened in the sunlight. In the center of town was the square, where the gazebo set, decorated with colorful Christmas lights, along with the rest of the town. It was only three weeks until Christmas, the busiest time of year for Christmas Cove. At night, it would become a Christmas wonderland, complete with Santa Claus in the gazebo, listening to the wishes of children.

I can't help but feel drawn to this being, a strange emotion tightening my chest. I clear my throat nervously. At this sound, the Shifter jumps, as if waking up from a restless sleep. It starts to back away, and even though it looks like a ghost, I can feel a little fear emanating from the creature. "Don't worry... I... won't hurt you. I venture a little closer, watching its movements. Surprisingly, it almost seems to recognize my words, stopping its jerky movements and opening its wide eyes. I don't feel frightened, or even intimidated. As if in a trance, I continue to walk toward the Shifter until I am only inches away.

growl and a shake of his head. The coyote stepped back, but the wolf didn't move. Dante stared at it. The wolf broke the gaze lock first. While the coyote hid behind it, obviously waiting for a signal from it. Dante snorted, tossed his head again, and slowly turned away. He halfway turned when a flash of black fur leaped at his shoulder. Diving to the side, he rolled out of the way, and then scrambled to his feet. The wolf and coyote snarled

Either tonight or tomorrow night. With her nose, I trace the trails of deer and foxes that have run through our territory today. A sick coyote is huddled under a bank by the river. A black bear blundered down from the foothills, but he’s gone home now. Abertha is always on me to “listen on another frequency” or “feel for the reverberations,” but I have no freaking idea what she’s talking about. All I can do is this—smell and listen and notice.

A pair of glowing eyes stared back at me from the shadows. A coyote. I barely had time to react before it lunged. I screamed, stumbling backward. My heart slammed against my ribs as I tried to scramble away, but just as fast as it had appeared, the animal cowered, whimpering. A presence filled the room. Keiran. He stepped in, his huge frame blocking the light. The coyote let out another whimper before running away into the darkness. “What are you doing here?” His voice was low, dangerous. Fear should have rooted me to the spot. A few hours ago, it would have. But now, anger burned through my veins, hotter than my terror.

My knees felt hollow, incapable of supporting my weight. I sat down directly on the freezing porcelain tile floor beside the tub. I pulled my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around my legs to stop the violent shivering that seized my frame every evening. I leaned forward, resting my cold forehead against the slippery, wet porcelain rim of the bathtub, letting the warm steam wash over my face while tears silently tracked down the bridge of my nose, dripping into the bathwater below. What do I do? the question screamed in my head over and over, a relentless, deafening chant. Dear God, what do I do?

I said, standing up. My knees gave a sharp, agonizing pop. My atrophied muscles felt like they were being torn from the bone with every movement. My left arm—the one that used to be stone—throbbed with a rhythmic, needle-sharp fire. It wasn't a weapon anymore; it was a weight I had to drag through the world. "The frost-bitters," I remembered. My mother had talked about them when I was a pup. They only grew in the shadow of the Black River’s ice-shelves. They were the only thing that could break a shifter’s fever when the wolf went quiet.

The radiant warmth of the moonstone shield provides a vital sanctuary against the artificial tempest, allowing us to claw our way upward through the treacherous switchbacks of the Frostpeak Highlands. Shane maintains a grueling, relentless pace, his eyes locked onto the faint, glowing markers we left on our previous ascents, ensuring the white winter wolves do not stray off the narrow ledge. Every breath we exhale freezes instantly into crystalline plumes, coating our eyelashes and fur-lined hoods in a delicate frost, but the sheer willpower driving our mission refuses to let us falter.