Feral Behavior Novels & Stories

“Yes, but you...last nigh—” “Last night was nothing, I told you that it happened often. Rogues often wander into packs and cause problems, so we have to deal with them on sight. Nobody got hurt, Gabe’s fine too.” “That’s good, but still...why did they come here?” “On instincts, some of them are ferals; wolves that aren’t sane, they’re so far gone that even their brains are dead. They kill without reasoning and they lack a place of refuge. If you see one, you have to run as far as you can, okay?”

Alec mused. I stopped walking and turned around slowly. When he put it that way, it sounded ridiculous. “What does feral mean to you?” “We’re rejects or runaways from other packs,” Malcom explained. “What did you think feral meant?”

"If you two were supposed to be mated, you wouldn't have hesitated a while ago. You would've kissed her, groped her without holding back." "You are such a naughty alpha wolf" Calvin snickered. "Please! It's just common knowledge" the wolf said. "If she was your mate, your primal instincts would kick in and you would not be able to control your feral desires." Calvin thought about all his wolf had just said. Truthfully, he had only held back because he didn't know if Charlie wanted the same thing. But could his wolf be right? If it Charlene Hayford wasn't his mate, who was it then?

He said. " I'll try, " She closed her eyes. It was hard to accept her new identity. It was a feral thing for her. She inhaled slowly. She was convinced with it but still the thought of shifting scared her. **** She was lost in her own thoughts while walking out after watching a movie. She couldn't concentrate on the movie at all. It was their usual routine to see movies and shop. The full moon night was one week away. She couldn't break her curse nor find her brother. She was getting sure to ask her father directly.

His eyes glowed, molten gold with streaks of black threading through. A Lycan. The rarest, deadliest form of wolf. The air itself seemed to bow under his power. Wolves around us lowered their heads, some whimpering, their alpha’s true form unleashed. Even Adam, his Beta, stood stiff, pale, trying not to look directly at him. And me? I couldn’t breathe. Brock’s beast turned toward me, gaze burning. For a moment I thought he’d lost control, that I was next. But then — his massive form lowered, his claws retracting slightly as he stalked closer, every line of his body trembling with restraint.

I admitted as Abby turned on the TV. “Are you feeling better?” Abby asked quietly. “You know... I’m sorry I put your mom in the dungeon. Are you mad at me?” I sighed and gave her a half hug. “No, I heard most of what happened. You almost lost control and went completely feral. I know that if you didn’t get her out of there you would have probably killed her by instinct.” Going feral was a dangerous thing, it means that the human mind is completely overpowered by our basic wolf instincts. And if a wolf goes feral, they cannot recognize who is pack member and who is enemy. When a wolf goes feral only two people in the world can calm the wolf down. Their mate... and their Alpha.

I want to know and he must tell me! I can see from his facial expression that he's hurt by my behavior. His cold eyes that are boring into mine are full of regret. He's already regretting opening up to me but I don't care. Being feral is a serious sickness. It destroys a shifter's rational human side, leaving the cruel, unrestrained animal side to take over. This is why there's a need for balance for us to be able to relate with others in a society that doesn't only belong to the shifters.

"He doesn't trust anyone. It's almost as if he's feral." I flinched. Feral. That wasn't a word thrown around lightly. Feral wolves had lost most of their social behaviors—completely retreating into survival instincts. Predators, scavengers... monsters created by pain. "If this continues," the doctor warned, "he'll shift into a wolf... and stay that way forever." "No," I said instantly, voice low. "No, that's not going to happen." "Then keep him away from high-stress situations. Work on building trust with him. Your pheromones should help slow the process."

“I know you were crazy from the day we met you— no wonder those Bears were chasing after you! You want to get us killed?!” “I'm not getting anyone killed!” Feryt faced Clord now. “The Ferals are not there anymore. I have been monitoring them from afar for days before I ran into you guys. And one afternoon— about seven days ago, they all randomly stormed out of the Pack and left. I don’t know what or where they were going to attack but they left and didn’t come back, and now, I hear that they have shifted and concentrated their numbers in the Southern Reigns.” She explained to Clord and he settled his argument. “Oh.”

Calla's POV They wouldn’t stop. The two of them tore at each other across the moss, snarling, bleeding, two great wolves who had forgotten everything but the rage. And I understood, watching them, why this was so dangerous. When a wolf goes feral … truly feral, lost in the killing rage … it’s almost impossible to pull them back. The man totally disappears and only the beast is left. But I needed them back. Now. “Blade!” I shouted. My voice tore at my raw throat. “Brynne! Stop!”