Life Howling Novels & Stories

People screamed again—this time at her. She looked up, heart pounding, chest heaving. Her hand— Claws. Her eyes— Wolf gold. A man across the street had his phone out. Recording. The world tilted. “Shit,” Riley breathed. Someone was shouting at her, asking if she was okay. The boy was crying. The car had skidded to a stop. But all she could hear was the crackling inside her skull, the voice she hadn’t heard in years. You blew it. Again.

He loudly said. “I can't go in there!” Keondra shook her head. “They are in cages and asleep, Kee, they won't harm you.” Hilda hopped in as she study the animals. “These animals are..meant to be extinct.” “I know these creatures.” Keondra hesitantly climbed on. “I see them when I hunt with Czar. How are they still alive?” “I heard stories, stories about the Rogue King.” Hilda sat down when the truck started moving. “A hunter, a warrior.”

Like a predator holding its breath. The Hollow Howl. I’d heard stories of it whispered by old rogues who limped between settlements, eyes white with half-shift. They said it was what remained of wolves who died inside their own minds—souls that kept howling even when the body stopped moving. They said you could follow it if you wanted. But you wouldn’t come back right. My wolf flinched. No words. No full rise. Just a snarl somewhere low, dragging her claws across the edge of my thoughts.

I threw my head back and I howled like I’d never howled before. A raw, unfiltered cry tore from my soul. At first, the sound was small, strangled, barely a whisper against the wind. But then it grew—raw, aching, a cry of grief and longing that tore through the night. It wasn’t just a howl. It was a confession. A surrender. I howled for my family, for my pack, for her. For everything I had lost and everything I would never have. The sound echoed into the night, swallowed by the wind and snow, as I laid my soul bare under the watchful gaze of the moon.

30 kids, 50 wolves, Caelum, Vex, Luna, Aria, Number 2 with grey cake he shouldn't have made yet — all piled in. Elara and Hope pushed to the front, carrots forgotten. "SISTERS?" Elara whispered, looking at the white-grey girl who stopped crying when Elara touched her. "BROTHERS?" Hope whispered to the black-grey boy, who grabbed her finger with his whole hand. Then both pups — not even 2 minutes old — howled. Not baby cries. Real, tiny, white and black and gold howls. And outside, 50 wolves answered. And 30 kids howled too, off-key.

Sigils blaze violently around its form, already recalculating, already escalating. This region resists correction, it announces coldly. Escalation authorized. The ground convulses. Pillars of light spear upward around us, boxing the Hunt in with surgical precision. Wolves slam into the barriers, snarling as invisible force throws them back. Ethan skids to a stop beside me. “That’s new.” Gravehowl emerges from the smoke behind us, colossal form coalescing fully now—fur bristling, eyes burning with savage delight.

he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Yes,” I growled, baring my teeth. “You are done, Killian Price.” I lunged at him again, my jaws snapping inches from his throat, but before I could land the final blow, the ground shook violently. The tremor wasn’t from me—it was something much bigger. From the north, a wave of wolves surged over the hill, their howls cutting through the chaos. My eyes darted to the horizon, and I saw them charging forward in perfect formation. There were hundreds moving as one unstoppable force.

Not that I know what matters they were discussing, but I knew it would be important enough to have all the neighboring packs involved. This beta had the silver moon pack symbol. He had light brown hair and brown eyes. He was muscular. Then he turned around and looked in our direction. Suddenly, he had his wolf looking through his eyes glowing and his canines out sniffing the air. He gave out a loud growl. “Mate” My heart stopped.

It was the kind of Christmas Eve I had always loved; cozy, familiar, safe. "Werewolves." My cousin whispered dramatically, leaning forward so the younger kids hung on her every word. "They hunt in the night, their eyes glowing red, their claws sharp enough to tear through bone. And when they catch you..." She paused, lowering her voice to a chilling whisper. "...They drink your blood and turn you into werewolves!!" The children shrieked in unison, clutching each other, their wide eyes reflecting the firelight. My cousin burst into laughter, clearly pleased with herself.

The Brother at the Threshold Saxa The first howl tears through the house like it’s trying to rip the floorboard up from underneath us. Not wolf, but not human either. It starts low, a strangled sound shoved through clenched teeth and then it breaks into a raw keening wail that claws up through the vents from the cellar and shreds the air in the kitchen. Haldor.