Foxface Hunger Games Mutts Novels & Stories

Still, Fedora couldn't help but feel grateful, as this meant she might have a chance to visit her own family after the activity. As Fedora entered the activity area with the other members of the Luna Association, her eyes widened in surprise. There, amidst the bustling crowd, were a group of orphaned pups. Despite their skinny appearance, they exuded a joyous energy that warmed Fedora's heart. It seemed that the presence of the Lunas had brought a newfound cheerfulness to their lives. Fedora couldn't help but be drawn to them, and soon they became fast friends.

If he had escaped, then Ida had gotten to them in time. I heard another horn as we neared the castle. We were close to entering its perimeter. Once the sound ended, shifter mutts appeared at the entrance and advanced on us. They looked like Lycans, but their shape was wrong. The mutts looked like shifters that had not finished their transition into wolf form, and their grotesque appearance made me cringe. Package everything with bloodshot eyes and veins sticking out where we could see skin, and they seemed like mutated hellhounds.

Then they go to fetch their own plates. Luna looks excited for the first time today, a feral smile on her face as she eyes the deer and roasted vegetables. She lowers her head, grabs the meat between her teeth, starts gnawing like a dog with a bone. She hunches over her food, snarling and growling I reach over, ready to teach her some fucking manners. What the fuck? She grew up with a lone wolf, but this… This is beyond that. She’s like an animal even in human form.

Cal seems to be so frazzled by the unexpected arrival of one of the three packs of Westfall in the middle of the night that Sasha was even forced to join her parents while half of the Slaves prepare a feast while half are entertaining the wolves of Night Storm Pack, naked and bare despite some of them have fresh wounds inflicted by the Fire Moon Pack’s wicked Alpha. That was a nightmare, yes. But with Shadow Rose Pack’s presence in their territory…it’s like comparing the bite of a cat to a lion. And one sure knows which is which. As she peeked outside the rusty bars of their cell, everyone was silent. Whether they are sleeping or some have just entirely given up, died—in the more candid term

“You pathetic.....mutts....She...will get....you....one...way or....another.” He spat blood in her face as she raised a paw, swiping across his throat, and ending his life.

she says indignantly. I nod in agreement, “Matthan isn’t happy about it either.” Whether shifted or not, Matthan can feel what Landry feels and definitely smells what he smells. As wolves, we have a much higher sense of smell, so my poor Lan is struggling right now. Thankfully he was in such a rush this morning that he missed breakfast, which I think is actually a good thing. I’m sure it doesn’t help that poor Matthan is dry-reaching in his mind. I think this entire situation has put me off my food because I just can’t find the desire to eat, and I feel bad because I hate wasting food. Nevertheless, I put my fork down and push my plate away.

The look of sheer disgust as the guard touched her and the snarl out of her made me laugh . “Ah the little prince and the red witch .” she says with a dry laugh . The taunting in her voice had my back up but I need to try to control myself , not let her get to me . “Enough of your bullshit , we want answers” Orion says with an emotionless tone . “ And why would I give you answers mutt ?” she says with her top lip pulled back over her teeth . Stepping forward I laugh as I run my finger over her mate's mark “Seems as though you yourself like mutt’s” . Yanking herself away from me she scratches “Do not touch me” .

"His name is Shell-don." The battle was turning into a stalemate. The wolves were superior fighters, but the environment hated them. They slipped on slime, got stuck in foam, and were pelted by Grog’s mutants throwing "stink bombs"—glass jars filled with a chemical concoction that smelled so bad it overwhelmed the wolves’ sensitive noses, causing them to gag and retch uncontrollably. "Retreat!" the lead wolf barked, realizing this wasn't a battle; it was a humiliation. "Fallback to the junction!"

We spoke in hushed tones, avoiding unnecessary exertion, conserving our precious energy. The encounter with a pack of mutated dogs was a near-death experience. Their eyes, glowing red in the gloom, held no trace of the domestic animals they may have once been. They moved with unnatural speed and ferocity, their bodies warped and misshapen by radiation. We fought them off with our makeshift weapons—rusty pipes and repurposed tools. It was a violent and terrifying struggle; the air filled with snarls, growls, and the clash of metal against bone. The fight left us bruised and battered but alive. We managed to fend them off, our combined effort proving stronger than the pack's feral hunger. But

Camille walked over to the shelf, stacked with books and several board games that she remembered from her childhood. The whole time she caught Maddox watching her as he continued to hold her bag. Curiosity filled his gaze. “Are you hungry? I can have Oliver make you some steaks.” “No. I’m fine.” “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.” “My appetite left after I got caught up in that witch smoke.” she picked up one board game. “Do you play these?” “I don’t know how to. Those are fatal games.” I put it down and looked at him. “Do werewolves have games?”