Golden Wolfish Novels & Stories

I slowly started the car again to continue my journey, but I came to an abrupt stop once more when a huge animal jumped onto the hood of the car. "AHHHHHH!" I screamed, seeing that enormous black wolf staring at me and licking its lips. I honked the horn to make it go away, but nothing made it leave. It was a huge wolf. The wolf jumped off the hood of the car, circling around it, never taking its eyes off me. With trembling hands, I took out my phone and dialed my dad's number, but, great, there was no signal. I slammed the gas pedal and sped away, getting as far away as I could from that wolf.

"Aunt Iris, what can you tell us about Golden Wolves? Her aunt and uncle seem to think Calla is something special." Iris paused in her tea preparation, her expression growing thoughtful. "Golden Wolves are extraordinarily rare. In my seventy-three years, I've never met one personally, though my grandmother claimed to have encountered one during her youth." "What did she tell you about them?" I asked, though part of me wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer.

Cyrus, the largest grey wolf, stepped towards us and bent his head, revering our newest member. Esmerelda followed my gaze and was startled. She tried to get up but kept falling down, unable to coordinate her four legs. Her whines and whimpers tugged at my heart. Cyrus took another step, and Magnus howled long and soulfully, freaking her out. Terror consumed her as she adjusted and flew on top of a granite boulder. She looked at me in utter betrayal before leaping off the rock and sprinting effortlessly over the line of wolves. Her white fur streaked against the dark green mountainside as we all paused in awe.

“Yes, it seems Neil was right, you are being an asshole at the moment.” “Lily, it is not below me right now to pick you up from your collar and dump you outside of my room. Do. NOT. Test. My. Patience.” His wolf growled out, his black eyes turning gold, a sign of his wolf emerging from its slumber, only for his sister’s own black eyes to turn copper, challenging his with a small snarl.

The only ones who remained standing was the four guests. “We are the Whiteriver pack. We come before our Alpha pair, above the river, under the moon, to acknowledge Mikael Blackfur as our Alpha and his one true mate, Rayvin Gullnauga as our Luna. They will protect, guide, and watch over us. We swear our loyalty to them for as long as we live,” the pack recited. Rayvin could feel the pack bond humming with the renewed oath. It sent shivers through her.

Casper ran to him and peered over his shoulders. It was a journal of an Alpha Tate from 1959. And on the right page were scrawled the following words: "On this day, 12th of June 1959. three wolves found dead at border. Beaten and butchered. One with a tattoo. Crescent with a circle around it."

The muzzle of the wolf, grinning and splashing with saliva, clicked in the face of the man, while Ar chuckled contentedly, throwing off his turn. - Well, shall we dance? - mocking, repeated the words of Mark. “Let’s dance,” Mark repeated, stretching his lips into a bloody smile. Arnar sensed the approaching danger from behind and heard Vitali's cry: - Behind! — Violating the order to stay in the territory, he rushed to the rescue. The werewolf flew off, slamming like a stone wall into the body of the High Vampire that appeared out of nowhere. A sweetish aroma enveloped Arnar and forced him to exhale convulsively from the pain spreading in his back.

“When you were with us already in the yacht and we were sailing, I saw in my vernacular when a group of black wolves dive into the sea and tried to chase us; though they were not able to catch-up with the speed of our yacht. Daffodil sighed. “I need to tell you something too. You might not understand or believe it but it is true. I am a werewolf Mom and Dad; a she-wolf and someone told me that I am the missing last breed of the golden wolves.” Daffodil added while looking at her adoptive parents. Both Mr. And Mrs. Marby’s mouth fell open because of astonishment. “How come? Are there really that kind of species?” Mrs. Marby asked with a thought of the impossibility of what Daffodil has just

Black like Ren. Ren was black. So black that if it weren’t for the light of the moon, I’m not sure I would be able to find him by sight. It was like a type of shield for camouflage fit for the perfect warrior wolf. I realize in my perusal that he was black almost all over, except the tips of his ears matched the brown in Nate, and there were little specs of white on his chest. White patching Nate’s paws. White like Nessa’s white. Like me.