Hunter X Hunter Drawings Novels & Stories

But that wasn’t what he was drawing today. There was a picture of two girls—rendered crudely in crayon, but still identifiable as girls. One of them had short blond hair and the other had long brown braids. Their hands were on their faces and their mouths open in screams. David had drawn these as big black circles. A huge black shadow hovered before them, a shapeless body with red eyes and clearly defined hands. The hands looked like long silver knives. There were many drawings before this one. Lauren wondered how long David had been at it.

Alpha Hunter seems like the type who loves art, and he has so many of them in here. There’s one of a child holding his shadow and running. I’m interested in that one. It pulls me in. I run my finger down the frame of the painting, wondering what it means to him. My hands land on one of the other paintings. It seems ancient but surprisingly well maintained. Alpha Hunter must have spent many hours getting lost in the pictures.

“You like drawing, huh?” The little girl nodded again. “I want to be an illustrator. Like Mama used to be in college. Mama’s really good at drawing horses.” Hunter nodded slowly, as if guarding a precious secret. “In that case… maybe you could draw a horse for me sometime? I really like horses.” Eliana stared at him. “You like horses?” Hunter paused to think. “I do. They’re strong, but when treated kindly, they’re gentle. Kind of like you, maybe.”

Because after I was done, I looked down. I saw Angelstar, my wolf, and a beautiful wolf has a midnight color on his tail and under his chest with a shape of a paw on his chest. I knew it was a bigger guy than her and me because they were on the mountain top watching the sky. Then something came to my mind. So I started drawing on the other pad. I was underlining the picture and coloring and shadowy the part of the picture. Once I was done. I gasped and hid my flush face because I had drawn a girl with beautiful platinum blonde hair and purple eyes, but I kept my eyes on her. Oh, my God! The drawing looks just like-

Lukan is genuinely kind and possesses a pure heart, that much my wolf knows for certain, and I trust his spirit. He flips the notebook back to the early pages, which include countless drawings of pack boardrooms, long trail crossings, stacks of territory treaties, and random mugs of bean sap in different dens. I look over his shoulder as his eyes devour each sketch again. Then, my sharp eyes notice the sudden pattern shift in the drawings. “What is it?” He searches my face, immediately noticing the shift in my scent.

For a little guy, he is way too good. There are all different kinds of drawings that are too neat, I shuffle through them, trying to find one to stick on our fridge in the kitchen. I smile to myself when I come across a picture of him and I then there's Jasmine and even Alex, with and without devil horns— that makes me laugh. I pass by other boyish things, like cars, dragons, dogs, dinosaurs and ninjas, lots and lots of them.

Seemed like they hadn't been touched for a long time. I picked up the first one. It was a portrait of Boomer, drawn as if it was not an artwork but a real picture. The colors blended with each other so well like some professional artist put their heart and soul in it. The second one was of Doser... then another of the boys together… and one of Karen. At the end of the canvases there were written the letters 'H. K.'. H. K. Hunter King. Hunter drew all these? Admiration filled my heart.

I nodded to Xavier, he had every right to hate me, and if that made him feel better, then I would take it. I closed my eyes as he raised the knife and waited for him to plunge it deep into my chest. To be continued… (This book is a Duet, the Hunter and The Hunted. The Hunted i still being written, please see my website for more information. It is on my to be written list after I finish my final revisions of my main series and the spin off completion.)

"I've spent the last several weeks observing the tree." He opened the notebook. Every page contained sketches. Runes. Timetables. Magical fluctuations. Even weather conditions. Hunter had documented everything. He pointed toward one of the drawings. "The tree isn't alive." Chaos smiled. "I knew it." Hunter continued. "It's a magical construct." "It only imitates a living tree." Order, who had silently appeared behind us, leaned over the pages. "The roots..." Hunter nodded. "They aren't roots." "They're channels." I frowned.

I unlock the door as quietly as I can. Jonah’s asleep on the couch. He’s too big for it now—his legs hang off the edge, one arm thrown over his face and the other holding onto his inhaler—but he’s curled up under the blanket I bought him last Christmas. His sketchbook’s on the floor next to him, open to a page covered in dark, jagged lines. I kneel down. Look at the drawing. Monsters again. Always monsters. Claws and teeth and too many eyes, things that don’t look human but almost are, things that are breaking apart or putting themselves back together. I can never tell which.