Feathertail Warriors Novels & Stories

The lines around his eyes let Lu know that he was smirking behind his coffee cup. “If we are?” Merrow asked, brushing back his white blonde hair as he studied the book in his hands. Flipping back to the cover, he looked at the models with a sigh of boredom. “It says it’s about mer-folk, but he does not look like one of ours.” “I think it’s supposed to be the girl.” Puca said, his grin deepening. “She has a tail.” “That’s not what we look like either,” Merrow said with a frown.

And when the time came, I would meet it head-on. Blind or not, I was ready. “Everyone is ready to fight,” whispered Kiran, who came up beside me. I could sense the pack gathering around me, uneasy but determined. Their breaths came fast, their feet shifted against the dirt, and their hearts beat like war drums in my ears. The odds weren’t good. We were a fresh new pack, and while I was trained, many of these were not trained warriors. They were fighters, yes, but out of desperation from living on the street. It was not the same as being trained by a seasoned warrior.

We will have the same issues with rebellion as Wengarthria if this goes any further. When we crashed within the shield for commanders, Malletigan looked at me and Thersar as if he was a rabid bull, and we were toreadors in corrida waiving with the red cloth. His fur started to protrude, and his eyes went neon red. Thersar and I sprung on him, trying to corner and tame the bastard. Yet, we barely managed to contain, control and take this manic, feral beast…man…dog...whatever the hell he is.

But I didn't let it stop me as I ran as fast as I could towards the sound of the battle. The massive field that led to the pack was covered in blood and bodies and I felt my steps falter at the horrible sight. Even in my wolf form, my stomach churned and I fought not to vomit, peering through the smoke and chaos in search of my mates. I saw Greyson then, standing tall in his massive wolf form along with Jaxon and Kade. The three were standing over a female. I frowned, moving forward, trying to recognize her. I whimpered when I saw the body of Tally strewn over a large bolder, blood pouring from a giant bite wound at her throat. I hated this.

I wonder at that for a while and conclude it must be because of their beta, who is also sitting at this table for some reason. I take one look at Beta Fen of the Ironclaw pack and try to analyze him. His scars speak of battles fought and won. He's wearing a leather jacket and there are no sleeves, his arms are on full display and they are riddled with scars. He's a fighter for sure, but he's also something else. I take a closer look and beg my mind to notice that thing that feels just out of reach. His hair catches my eye first. It's tucked behind one ear, and made to fall over the other and down the shoulder of that ear. Warriors wear their hair cut close, or at least in various short style

Zach throws his head back and lets out a victorious howl, the cry of a warrior who has just vanquished the number one threat to his beloved mate and their unborn child. That shifts the tide of the battle unequivocally toward our side. We’re able to send the bears and the Flagstaff wolf shifters scattering, defeated. They grab their dead and wounded and flee into the night, pursued by our spies who will make sure they’re not going to try and rise again but will leave town with their tails between their legs, or whatever passes for surrender for a bear shifter.

With precision, he began to share the security report, focusing on the able warriors within our pack. "Our pack consists of highly skilled and dedicated warriors, meticulously trained to defend and protect our kind. The statistics show a steady increase in our ranks, with a current count of 150 able warriors who have undergone extensive training and are equipped with advanced combat techniques. This includes 40 specialized fighters proficient in hand-to-hand combat, 30 expert marksmen with exceptional accuracy, and 20 agile and swift scouts who excel in reconnaissance missions."

They formed a protective circle around me as we descended toward the western edge of the camp. By the time we reached the perimeter, the whole place was filled with chaos. Warriors fought warriors, many wearing the same colors, making it impossible to tell friend from foe at a glance. The fox illusions were masterful; each fake fighter moved and fought just like the real ones would. I focused on my connection to the Ferals, using a low hum to direct them forward. They moved as one unit, clearing a path through the confusion. Unlike the regular warriors, visual illusions didn't fool the Ferals; they relied on scent and sound, following my commands perfectly.

As we descended into the subterranean colosseum, the noise became overwhelming. Two thousand warriors filled the stone tiers of the cavern. These were the Shadow Warriors—the battle-scarred outcasts of the Dead Woods. They were alphas, betas, and omegas who had been rejected by their birth packs, criminals who had survived the brutal winter wilderness, and veterans of forgotten border wars. They didn't wear uniforms; they wore heavy furs, iron chains, and leather straps over bodies covered in jagged claw scars. They were savage, and radiated a volatile pressure.

It was just a small, small distance away… just a little bit and I can finally get out! But then… “Wait.” He… He pulled my tail. “K-kyaaaa---!” What was that?! I felt like my soul was being pulled away from my body! I immediately flailed and was able to get away from his grip. The moment I felt the cold floor on my feet, I immediately dropped down and squeezed myself on the corner. I still feel weird… my tail feels weird!