Greyhound Novels & Stories

"Enough chit-chat. You should already be rather tired. So let's get this done quickly. Anyway, you already grasped the basics and just need more experience, who will you choose this time?" "My usual ones. Black and white." "Hahaha~!" Another cheerfully loud laugh escaped Gerald's lips as he chortled, "Those two are basically your private property now, they never let anyone else mount them." Sol smiled at his comical accusations. White was his horse. A rare breed of nightmare horse. A rank D species. Black was his wyvern, a rank C species of the Draconic branch.

I'm even being nice and capitalizing your name OF: YOU BETTER TAKE THAT SH*T BACK AJ: No OF: I’M NOT A GIANT DOG SL: You are a Wolf hybrid WG: To be fair, they have a point... WG: According to scientists, the dogs are descended from the Gray wolf, domesticated about 130,000 years ago. WG: You are a Northwestern Gray Wolf... OF: I. AM. NOT. A. GIANT. DOG. OF: TAKE IT BACK AJ: STOP F*CKING YELLING

"Put the gun away and back off." He doesn't move, so this time, I take him by the arm, easing him backwards. The pitch is low. Whatever's producing the sound is big. As we retreat a few steps, the owner of the sound emerges. And he's a whopper. Black, with ginger face markings and eyebrows, this dog could be cast as 'Hellhound of the Year'. A Rottweiler, he crouches, body hanging low, ears laid flat back. His eyes are white-rimmed and his lips pulled back to display ranks of pristine teeth.

I sighed! Venturing into the lush green expanse that made up the training field, my eyes were drawn to a wolf of commanding stature in the midst of his solitary practice. Aiden, in his wolf form, was a spectacle to behold. He was a striking fusion of strength and grace, with a glossy coat of black-grey that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, dappled by the forest's soft shadows. His eyes, as strikingly blue as a clear summer sky, sparkled with an infectious zest for life that I had always admired.

“but there is something else. We found fur which matches the fur the feral left all over Johnny but we found a second donor.” She paused to open on of the pockets in her coat and pulled out a small clear evidence bag. Inside was several strands of golden hair. The way they caught the first rays of the morning sun made them Shimmer like threads of gold or silk. As beautiful as it was, it was unusual as well. Sandy or sable coats weren’t totally uncommon but they were usually mixed with other colours. This had no other colours mixed in. “The feral seems to have gained a friend “ Sierra continued, unaware of the significance of her find. “And I think I know where they are going.”

The hotel sandal he was wearing fell to the floor. "Hey, I have to finish my business here to take that dog to its master and kick my ass back to America ASAP. Can't we work together now?" Iris was getting emotional right now. Usually, Jonathan never sucks like this. But suddenly she remembered Jonathan's words at that time. About a demon that can turn into an animal to hide from hunters. Her brain was thinking so fast that it felt like her mind was spinning. The husky dog ​​is a striped gray, cold expression and fierce with other hunters. Iris suddenly took a few steps back when she realized that. Her mouth was in a strange smile and her hands brushed her hair back roughly.

I asked confused. “The big doggie you were playing with…” he said sarcastically. “Epicyon Haydeni.” He shoved his phone in my face, making me flinch. On it were search images of hideous dangerously looking predators. My wolf doesn’t look like that. I thought defensively, while handing him his phone. My wolf. “The Epicyon Haydeni also known as Hayden’s bone crushing dog, was a prehistoric creature that measured up to eight to ten feet in length, and stood up to three feet tall at the shoulder. They weighed up to 370lbs.” He read out loud.

Crow quipped. “The…” He shut his mouth. “Ok, but what the hell, did they say?” Breed shook his head. “Can you explain this to us, Breed?” Greer asked. “From what I understand, he will be put like out in like a sweat lodge somewhere and they will have him smoke the pipe. Then if he lives through it and his other trials, after two moons, he will be cleansed. They said he won’t be a white dog anymore?” “Yes, that is what they said,” Shyla agreed.

"EMOTIONAL SUPPORT, Ethan." The third puppy is mostly black with tan markings on its face. The fourth is golden, like its mother, with paws that seem too big for its body. The fifth is a mix of colors—brown and white and a streak of something darker along its spine. The sixth is the smallest of the healthy ones, a pale cream color that catches the morning light. And then there's the first one. The fighter.