Micro Hunter Novels & Stories

Without the noise of his devotion, I could see the exact angle of the Stalker’s rifle through the cedar logs. BOOM. The door didn't just break; it disintegrated. A high-frequency charge turned the wood into a rain of splinters. Through the smoke, the first silver-masked Hunter stepped over the threshold, his infrared lens glowing. I didn't scream. I lunged. I used the leaden weight of my stone arm as a club. I slammed the quartz wrist into the Hunter’s throat before his optics could track my 0.3-second lag. Crack. The sound of his windpipe collapsing was a dry, satisfying thud.

The snow tiger roared and increased back to its full size but the bullet hole in its head remained. The majestic tiger knew that its end had finally come, but it was not going down without a fight. Ice spikes began to randomly shoot out of the snow. Shorty, the last Hunter standing, began to jump around, dodging the ice spikes that came from below him. He jumped into the air, reloaded his rifle and squeezed the trigger in mid air. At the same time, a ice spear flew at him at high speed. Shorty was in the air and could not dodge. He raised his sniper rifle to his chest in a bid to block the high velocity spear. The ice spear penetrated through the gun and passed through Shorty's thick skin, e

One day he decided to walk into the woods and no one has ever seen him since. My name is Lucas Harrison. I am considered the best tracker and hunter in the town. Not only animals but also Paranormal beings. All-day and all night, people in our town searched, lighting the way with flashlights and lanterns. Searching with dogs and carrying shotguns. It all seemed like a horror movie waiting to happen.

When I get back to the pack, Ryder and Eric are standing in front of the burnt down pack house and are in heated discussion over something I can’t hear. I walk up to them, and they both raise their eyes to stare at me when I say angrily from between gritted teeth, “I have found the murderer and he is a hunter. A man in the woods, just outside of town. The thing is that he has silver and is no normal hunter, he is a hunter of our kind. He is the one who killed the pups because he has their dead bodies just waiting to be skinned and hung. There little feet rest around his neck on a necklace made of them.”

When we were kids, she used to get us into all kinds of trouble and I would always get blamed for it because once she flashed those big blue eyes, no one could accuse her of any wrongdoing. “To do it more often?” I laughed, thankful for the comic relief. Despite my bravado and earlier reassurances to Devon, I was still nervous. As he said, I did not like to kill animals. Werewolves were actually peaceful creatures and we didn’t hunt other animals asides from the Grant Hunt and the wolves who did it for sport. It wasn’t banned or anything so they were in their rights. It just wasn’t something I liked doing. For this reason, I was nervous. Plus, the Alpha’s arrogant son, Louis was participatin

I scanned the trees in front of us and my eyes fell into the grass with rash movements, just near a chir pine tree. “Quinn, East!” I shouted as I felt something from the east running in our direction. Quinn nodded and immediately positioned her bow to release the arrow with poison. With a bolt, Quinn calmly let go of the arrow when a big brown werewolf appeared. This is our first time to see a brown-haired werewolf, most of the hunts we’ve been to have black or grey fur. “Brown?” Rendall asked as we saw the arrow hit its leg and growl in pain.

As I was trying to come up with a plan for taking down the last hunter on watch without being detected something came crashing out the window. It was one of the two hunters that were searching inside. The one I had just been planning on killing checked his friends pulse before cursing and jumping through the now shattered window. It seemed they found Mom and she was pissed. I could hear her wolf losing her shit. I jumped in just in time. My mom had her claws digging into the chest of the other hunter that had been searching the house. However she was not moving or completing the kill. The hunter who just came in from outside was holding a crying two month old Richard and in his other hand he

A man on foot had broken free of his hiding spot and was gunning it after us, running at an impossible speed. I didn't need to see the light sucking black surrounding his pupils, annihilating the whites of his eyes to know what he was. I could tell by the way his arms jerked as he bounded towards us, closing the gap between hunter and prey. I slipped my gun from the holster strapped to my thigh and let off three rounds the same instant the front tire ran a hole, jarring my shots and sending them wide. "Keep it steady!"

"But what actually happened? They're saying the General almost died." I hesitated. I shouldn't tell him. It was a state secret, a blow to my pride, and highly classified. But Oliver was my best friend, the only person in this goddamn palace who didn't look at me with pity or disgust. And honestly, if I didn't get this off my chest, my brain was going to short-circuit. "He was poisoned," I said softly. "The rats injected him with a gold, shimmering venom. It induced an artificial rut."

This sentiment is quite understandable, as their lineage lacks werewolf genes, unlike the Valentines and the other retired families known as true-blood hunters. These true-blood hunters possess the coveted werewolf genes that set them apart. In contrast, families like The McKnights and the current hunters within the bureau fall into the category of Lesser Hunters. These Lesser Hunters were once fully human but have acquired supernatural abilities, somewhat akin to those of the true-bloods, through the use of Talismans. While they may not match the true-bloods in strength, they still manage to get the job done.