Literary Stray Dogs Novels & Stories

“Its name is the Prell. So, Gregorio is the run away from me and is the lost.” “Oh. I’m… sorry to hear that.” His odd way of speaking left me struggling to keep up, which was surprising, given how much experience we had working with students who were still learning English. “You is the say earlier that you is the stranded here. Correct?” “Yes. And thank you so much for taking us in. We have a lot of people camped on a beach nearby. We need help—please.” He stared at me, his gaze heavy, searching. But it didn’t feel like doubt. It felt… deeper.

"Hurry up and do your homework, children." With a huff, Charlie turned and hurried back to the big shed Jack had come from and where they housed the dogs. As soon as she opened the door and crossed the threshold, a multitude of dogs began to jump on top of her and lick her face, causing her to let out a loud laugh. It didn't matter how bad her day had been or how rude Anthony and Samantha had been to her; all it took was a flick of the tail from those fur balls and everything looked better. If Vivian allowed it, Charlie would spend day and night in that shed, examining, cleaning and caring for the dogs, cats, rabbits, birds and countless other stray animals that Vivian had taken in since the

Realizing that there was no way forward, the dog whined and extended his front paw in a pleading gesture. Anika stopped a few steps away, not daring to immediately approach the strange dog, but her pleading appearance evoked more compassion than fear. She could not stand the abuse of animals, and this creature was undoubtedly left here not with good intentions. Otherwise, why would a dog cry out to a stranger? And would a normal owner leave his pet tied to a tree with a simple rope? These were her thoughts on the spectacle she saw, which caused a storm of indignation. And hence the conclusion: some flayer tied the poor dog to a tree in the middle of the forest, dooming him to a terrible deat

Stray Dog then coldly replied, “Don’t be naive, Harvey York. Did you really think that I won’t thoroughly investigate this? “My brothers are all retired soldiers from Country J. Even though they aren’t Kings of Arms, every single one of them is a titan among men! “So what if Tyson can fight? He can’t beat this many men! “Did you really think that he’s the God of War?! “Even if the God of War came, we have people on the same level to deal with him! “Besides, it wouldn’t matter to us whether Ethan and Tyson live or die. “We’re planning to kill you, Prince York. When you die, there will be nobody to govern Buckwood, maybe even South Light. When that happens, this place will be ours!” Stray Dog

In front of her, the iron gate stood locked and unyielding, giving no indication that it would open anytime soon. Jessica had no choice but to wrap her arms around herself and hurried toward her home. Yet, halfway through her journey, she ran into a stray dog that barked ferociously at her, causing her to veer off course and run into the nearest alleyway. Upon seeing her take off, the stray dog grew even more excited and pursued her relentlessly. Jessica ran frantically, squeezing through any narrow passage she could find to escape the stray dog. By the time the barking finally subsided, she realized that she had no idea where she was.

Strays will target them and try to kill them. Strays....the ones I heard the three talking about the other day. From the knowledge that the moon goddess has granted me, strays are humans who have been turned to werewolves, but has defects. Humankind and the werekind are supposed to live their lives as humans or werewolves and trying to defy that fact is simply wrong. Strays have rogue-like characteristics, but they are controlled by one person. Who and why he is doing this, we absolutely have no idea and that's simply the reason why we're here.

Actual eyes, attached to her actual suspicious head. The cannery sat on the edge of the industrial district, low and grey and smelling faintly of rust, old tomatoes, and decisions made by committee. Eli ran point. Miles took rear. Cal and Pete handled the trolley. Two of Marcus’s people moved with them: Tessa and a quiet man called Ron. They were efficient. Annoyingly efficient. Then the dogs appeared. Eight of them, maybe ten, slipping from the alley beside the loading dock. Feral. Thin but not starving. Yellow eyes. Low heads. The kind of pack that made old memories of sofa cushions and tennis balls feel like propaganda.

They cursed their bad luck under their breath, frustration boiling over. Nicole drove straight into the complex and stopped at the base of her building. Rain blurred her vision as she reached out, eager to pull Cola into her arms, but he backed away. His eyes were sharp, guarded, full of suspicion. He looked terrible. Blood stained his mouth. Half his fur was gone, and his body was covered in scars. This wasn't the first time he had been hunted like that. In a world like this, people would do anything to survive. Stray dogs didn't stand a chance.

Still, he behaves himself, settling for placing himself between Emma and the stranger. The stranger is much more interested in the other dogs than me, whining as they duck back and forth introducing themselves. I wander closer, babbling gibberish at the dogs just to keep talking, looking for somewhere I could sit. There's an old stump, snow-covered, but I brush it clear with my hand to perch on the edge. Archie and Meg immediately rush up to claim my attention and the stranger stands, sort-of following, angling nearer. I talk... And I keep talking. "What a nice lot of boys and girls. All these doggies... What a lot of lovely doggies..." Nonsense words. Not meaning anything. Just a vehicle fo

STRAYS' POV - THE REAL PLANS The stray camp was hidden deep within the forest, far from the watchful eyes of the pack. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint rustle of leaves, the shadows of the towering trees casting a dark blanket over their camp. The strays moved silently, their bodies tense, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. They were always on guard, always prepared for the possibility of an attack.