His Wounded Bird Novels & Stories

Never mentioned how he bled out on our kitchen floor because I couldn't control the thing inside me. White wolf wounds heal if you forgive. Just touch the wound, let go of the anger, and the bleeding stops. Simple. Except I'd learned that particular trick too late for it to be useful. A crow landed on the fountain's edge, cocked its head at me. Black eye to black eye. It opened its beak—about to caw, probably—then thought better of it and flew off. Smart bird. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw fireworks. Red and gold starbursts behind my lids. The pressure helped, somehow. Kept everything from spilling out.

The fence is crap down here, all broken and battered, and nature’s suffering, yet again, for humanity’s dumbfuck ignorance. Even in boots I can move quietly when I need to. I’m slow and steady, making sure I talk to the bird real softly as I make my way over. He flaps hard but he can’t go anywhere. His eyes don’t leave mine at all, and when I get there he caws at me but doesn’t freak out like I thought he might. His feathers are muddy and trashed. His leg looks sore where the wire’s cut him, but it seems like he can still move it.

"None of you are getting out of here alive." As he spoke, the Three-legged Golden Bird let out a crow as it pounced, its razor-sharp talons glinting in the light. Neither Janoff nor Tyson could dodge in time, and a piercing sound rang through the air as scratch marks appeared on both men's bodies. The wounds were long and deep, blood gushing out by the second.

The wound on his chest slowly began to heal. - Alud hold him. He is weak, but still dangerous. Now his wound will heal, and I will kill his guide. the vampire said coldly, looking dismissively at the bird. The werewolf, silently, pressed the hunter to the asphalt. The wound has healed. White-faced desperately kicked, trying to get out. Although the werewolf could hardly restrain him, he was already too weak to resist the three dark ones. The bones of the bird crunched in the vampire's hands. The eyes of the raven that had just been alive shone with dead reflections. The limp body fell to the pavement.

Marco just can't go because he still depends on his wife. Meanwhile, Luis and Dinda are currently just taking a walk around the park. It looks like the weather today is very beautiful, very suitable for walking. The sun isn't too hot either, Dinda and Luis are just walking casually today. The blue sky looks very beautiful, and the birds in the park can be seen flying freely. Luis and Dinda are currently starting to stop for a while to feed the birds in this park. "I didn't know there was a park inhabited by many birds like this!" said Dinda.

We hovered, side by side, at the pooling light in front of the truck. In the middle of the road there was a bird. Rowan gasped. I hadn’t realised that she – and Kathrena – had both come outside, as well. I’d assumed that they would have both stayed in the truck. Kathrena flinched at the sight of the wounded bird, its wing curled back. There was dried blood across its black feathers, spoiling the oil spill plumage. One open eye was turned toward us, black and beady and forever unseeing.

It was gauging things, weighing up infinite possibilities Khaldun would never comprehend. With a flurry of wings, the gull ploughed into the windshield, the pane already weakened, it caved in. With the bird’s head now inside the car, it forced its way through, oblivious to the terrible damage the passage incurred upon its body. The entry point was framed with blood and feathers, its beak and claws now tearing mercilessly as Khaldun’s hands, which he lifted off of the wheel to protect his face, his screams bleeding into the cries of the gull, his feet pushing down as he forced himself backwards, and away from the onslaught.

Fortunately no one was harmed other than few scratches and cuts. Zander got bad hit on the side his head when he landed on the ground. Blood were flowing down from his wound. He touched his his wound and hissed in pain. Taking the handkerchief from his hand by which he was trying to clean, I carefully dabbed it on his wound after pulling him to a side. The wound healed within a few seconds. Unlike me everyone's wound were already healed . Lucky Bustards. "What was that? " Jess said, still shocked from the situation.

His fur bristled with unease when he realized the wounds were getting infected. Luckily the trek back to ThunderClan wouldn't take too long. Flamestrike decided not to say anything as Birdpaw limped after him. She was doing surprisingly well considering her injuries. Then again, he suspected she had suffered from far worse. I hope the Clan will believe me now that I have proof, he thought.

His green eyes met mine and I didn’t get a hint of vamolf in them. “What is your name?” I asked. “Where am I?” He looked around. His voice was quiet and scratchy. “Because of the growls and screams, his vocal cords were damaged.” The doctor supplied. “You are at the Red Mountain pack in Virgina.” Jet told him. “Oh.” “What is your name?” Jet asked again. “Nick…. Nick Andrews.” “What do you remember?” Wade asked. “Pain. I remember bleeding out in the forest. I was attacked? My mate! She died in my arms! She was pregnant too!” He started crying and pulling at his restraints.