Fur And Feathers Novels & Stories

she asked. “Your ears and tail were black at the tips”. “What?” Clara asked trying not to laugh. “You know that can’t happen Danny. My fur color is gold not black. Are you imagining things or something?” “No I’m not. I’m being honest they were black”. “Cats don’t shed their skin or just change color and there are also not birds that their feathers fall off. They’re mammals and you are just seeing things”. “Maybe you’re right, but I know what I saw”.

Their fur shimmered with a golden hue, and their eyes blazed with an inner fire, a testament to the power of love and unity that fueled their every action. Cyrus, his confidence shaken, rallied his warriors to confront this newfound threat. The clash of steel against fur and the roar of wolves filled the air as the two forces collided. The warriors with the sun’s aura fought with a ferocity and determination that was unparalleled, their unity evident in their every move.

Slowly, Rudy noticed that he was becoming more and more like Fane. He slowly understood why Fane was always so calm, and why none could get to his head. Fwoop! Fwoop! Fwoop! Countless rainbow-colored feathers viciously slammed onto the surface of the stage. Fane barely managed to avoid them all. He looked up at the Thousand Feathered Beast in the sky, noticing its sharp eyes still looking right at him. Even though it showed no emotions, the intense killing intent coming from it washed over Fane like a wave.

Never quite this personal. Ronan landed a solid hit with his fist to Elias’s jaw, feeling the satisfying crack of bone. Elias laughed, actually laughed, blood on his teeth, and drove his elbow into Ronan’s ribs hard enough to crack armor. They grappled, tumbled down the small hill, weapons lost somewhere in the mud. Claws and fangs came out. Ronan’s wolf surged under his skin, desperate to rip this thing apart. Elias’s eyes burned brighter, veins standing out black under pale skin as he tried to sink fangs into Ronan’s throat.

Two identical chairs are set by the table as well, if Phobos and I were close as before I would chat with him and spend time laughing at that spot. I observe the mattress beneath my fingertips, I wonder if it is made out of goose feathers for it is very soft and bouncy. Upon the mattress lies a thin emerald green velvet blanket and the third layer over it rests a fur quilt. I wonder how they produce such comfort, it fascinates me how they do not trade with other packs for such rather make it by themselves by hand.

Ever since Alinta turned eighteen and met her wolf, a series of misfortunes had begun to unfold. Angela stared at the moon, her orange and golden coat shimmering under the moonlight as though she were on fire. This unique colouration was not unheard of for a wolf, but it was rare. What made her even more different was her fur; not all of it was hair. Some strange fibres resembled downy barbs, which made her look fluffier. When she ran, it created the illusion of flames flickering around her.

The only reason one would use golden peacock feathers to draw runes was for the long-lasting effect. What really fascinated Xasha more than any of that was the fact that the feathers attracted energy particles just like energy cores. Feathers of a different color would attract a different kind of energy particle, there were seven different particles being attracted by this bird including fire, water, air, healing, lightning, light, and purification.

I couldn't tell if the massive frame was because of its muscles or the load of fur. I kept my hands on her shoulders to keep her away from the cage. The animal had his back on us, probably sleeping, but it was so huge we could see its body heaving despite the thick, silky fur. I frowned as I stared at it. Anya looked up at me and my hair. "That's almost the same color as yours," she pointed out. Almost. The furs were grey and white, like the body couldn't decide which color to take, so it took both. It actually reminded me of the Siberian wolves from movies.

Talia lunged toward the nearest wolf with a grizzly snarl, muscles rippling beneath her fur. The forest exploded with motion—leaves whipping, earth scattering under her paws as she slammed into Bradly's side with bone-rattling force. Her teeth snapped inches from his muzzle, hot breath steaming in the cold air. The old wolf snarled back, a low, guttural sound that trembled between fear and defiance. It was enough to spark a fresh surge of rage through her.

But she couldn’t explain it away, not when she looked at his mouth from which two teeth were protruding now. No, not teeth. Fangs! Pointy, sharp fangs like those of an animal. Like a Sabertooth tiger. She couldn’t think it, no, because to think it made it real. It couldn’t be real. It didn’t exist. He didn’t exist, not like that.