Ice Dogs Book Novels & Stories

She says while sipping her tea. Before I can ask anymore her sister comes in holding a really old looking book. Ivy places the book on the coffee table that sits in the middle. “Sorry, it was away at the back, no one has mentioned the Opal wolves for such a long time” Ivy says as she blows the dust from the book, then starts to open it.

It was time to end this fight. The ice wolf lets out an angry growl. His worry-filled eyes were now hostile as I show my fur side to him. I guess he realized that I’m the notorious Fire Foot that always loots from his pack. Sorry, Icy, but now was not the time for us to fight. This Soulless is my main priority right now.

He asked, I look at him and there I saw a dog wagging his tail. "No," I responded that made him gloomy. "I promise I won't meddle with you." He said. I just ignored him and continued what I am doing. I've been reading this book titled 'Lily of the Valley meets Wolf Boy'. It's a famous book written by the most famous author nowadays, which is Phoenix. The story is about a sick but energetic girl that met a weird boy who was raised by wolves. They met in a city where the boy got lost. That boy is kind of anxious about how people treat him because of his different from usual behavior. The girl helped her and they became friends.

"And I expected a champion. Not a man who dominates on the track and runs from everything real off it. If you're so untouchable, why does one journalist with a notebook make you this defensive?" His jaw ticked, there and gone. "You hunt stories like a fox on the scent." He said it slowly. "Digging. Probing. Never knowing when to stop." He almost smiled, but there was nothing warm in it. "Fine. I'll call you Vixen then. Fits perfectly.” I laughed, sharp and genuine. "If I'm a fox you've earned every word of Ice King. Cold, untouchable, freezing everyone out the second they get too close."

The other players, my new teammates, were suddenly very interested in their gear, pretending not to watch the show. "Hockey?" Jax was so close now I could feel the heat radiating off him. His scent was different from the others—sharper, cleaner, like a winter forest right before a storm. It was an Alpha's scent, designed to intimidate, and it was working. My illegal scent blockers felt like a flimsy shield against a tidal wave. "You think what you do is hockey? That circus trick you pulled in the finals? That's not hockey. That's disrespect." "I scored the winning goal," I said, my voice steady even as my hands curled into fists at my sides. "That's my job."

As werewolves, we needed more structure than humans did. We needed to keep strict control over our wolves, and to do that, we had to adhere to the hierarchy. After dinner, Luca and I went for a walk, and he took me to a beautiful place with a waterfall and a fairly large pond. There he told me the story of his mother and how she became the world champion ice skater.

“Huh? I don’t understand." “You just open your palm and this ice comes from nowhere, I understand that, but you’ve never done anything with it?” He asked. “Can I do something with this?” I asked. **Writer’s POV** The cafeteria was filled up, everyone was busy eating, it was noisy too. “I wonder how Ice is doing, what if she hasn’t eaten?” Odette sighed. “I don’t think Kingston is as wicked as that,” Perse said. “I just hope so,” Odette said, looking worried.

she mumbled, intrigued. Nueva flicked to the last page, and a nightmarish creature covered in red fur with large canine fangs stared at her dead-on with its vile green orbs. She instinctively closed the book; her chest rose in short ragged breaths. Nueva quickly tied the string back around the cover and placed the book neatly back in the waiting slot.

he said. Inside were pages full of pencil sketches and short, clumsy sentences—none of them professionally done, all of them exactly him. There was a crooked family on the first page with two parents and a rescue dog named Bix. The second page had a sketch that looked suspiciously like our penthouse couch, with the caption: Where Tuesdays live. The book was a hand-made children’s story: The Little House That Held Tuesdays. Each page held a tiny adventure—the first puddle jump, the first burned pancake, the time a kite escaped and came back with a ribbon.

Cara dropped off at the stop that divided our blocks, waved goodbye, and walked home. Mom was putting away her shovel after clearing up some snow around her tires and was just heading in when I arrived. She waited on the front step and waved when I got out of the car. "Nice day at school?" "It wasn't bad," I replied. Our neighbor next door waved at mom and me on his way in with his huge husky with its thick grey and white fur. I followed mom inside. The sitting room was warm and the smell of boiling pasta wafted from the kitchen.