Paw Patrol Dog Marshall Novels & Stories

In his arms was the dog, Tim, shivering, limp. “He's not okay,” he said, gently setting the dog down on the marble floor. I watched the sick body twitch, once, then go still again. His breathing was shallow. His eyes unfocused. That loyal mutt that had barked at every goddamn guest, that had growled at strangers and followed Chocolate around like a shadow… was now barely holding on. I swallowed the tightness in my throat and glanced at Marcelo. He was crouched by the dog again, rubbing his ears, his mouth twisted in that same stubborn grimace he wore when something actually got to him.

Marcella- Alert all packs of the fugitives. Me- Both Lucy and Bridget are wolfless. Marcella- Have your police force reach out to the humans. Me- OUR police force. I see Fran’s tail wag. ME- (Pack wide). Return to the pack. Any patrol who finds the fugitives should arrest them on sight. We all return to the pack. And Mom is handing out shirts to the females and shorts to the males. “I’m impressed son,” Martin says to Wesley. “I don’t care,” Wesley answers and makes his way to me and Marcella.

It didn’t take long before something sounded behind us, and when I turned my head to look at the entrance, Marshall was there, standing with a pair of shorts that I was sure he just picked up in the forest because they were too small for him. His eyes shifted to all of us before they focused on Harlene. Harlene already told us that Marshall was the first one Marcia encountered and that he had no choice but to run off so he wouldn’t be affected by her smell because he was already attacking her. “Are you okay?” The Alpha asked, but Marshall didn’t reply. His chest was heaving, probably from all the running, but his eyes were still on the female beside me. “Alpha, can I be excused?” Harlene ask

“Cold.” “What does it mean?” “Answer me first. Did something happen before the slave hunt began?” I traced everything that happened in Bloodvenom Pack. Then I recalled about the night before the last day of the event. “She whined that her bones felt like breaking and also told me her body feels extremely hot.” Marshall bobbed his head and then went to take something from the big shelf behind the couch. “I’ve told you before. She has a wolf.” Although I wanted to refute it, I somehow couldn’t.

Mason spots the patrol first. ‘Alpha, there, near that fallen log! The patrol!’ ‘Stop yelling! We can hear you! Idiot.’ Chastises Jason. He and Mason are litter mates, both with brown fur with white patches on their heads and paws. Mason also has a white patch on his tail. It’s the only difference between them. As we get closer to the patrol, I notice their agitation and it’s unnerving. What is it about this human? ‘Alpha.’ Greets one of the guards with a bow. I turn to him.

They grunt and murmur among themselves as I raise a hand to show I mean no harm. One of them steps forward—Marlon, his long black curly hair half-tied behind his head, a scar running from his temple across his eye, stopping above his lip. He's a massive figure, just like his friend Garmond. "Pete has been expecting you, you little runaway." "Nice to see you too, Marl," I grunt, pushing past them and heading up the stairs to Pete's office. My fingers are crossed, hoping I'm not about to face hell.

"Mr. Houston, we didn't recognize you. Please spare us." "Dogs who don't recognize their master are useless," Marion said coldly. "Break their legs and send them back to their boss." Marion's ruthlessness was legendary. The guards trembled in fear. "Mr. Houston, please, have mercy."

Philip was a good man. Madison also has Two-dogs. Not literally two dogs, but one badass rescued pit bull named Two-dogs. He’s three years old and follows Madison everywhere. He was our compromise over the bodyguard situation. Madison hired a woman and I had a dog trained for added protection. We’re both happy.

Charlotte wasn't one of them and I found myself disappointed by that. "You may pass, of course," he said, "but no pets allowed." Galleytrot growled, the most menacing sound I'd ever heard. Green power flowed down the length of him, rippling his fur. His huge eyes flared with red power as he seemed to grow and fill out, becoming the black dog of the Wild Hunt. He scared the crap out of me and he was my friend.

I want to look around, to see if the rest of the pack came with him, but I can’t tear my gaze away from him driving the other wolf away from me. As third in the pack, Marshall is one of the best fighters we have, whether human or wolf. He fights silently. He doesn’t growl or snarl the way the intruder does, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t furious. I feel the lash of his rage as he snaps his teeth and uses every ounce of coiled muscle to attack. Marshall doesn’t hold back. In seconds he has the black-brown wolf pinned and goes for his throat. But then my eyes widen in horror as a lighter brown wolf barrels out of nowhere and slams into Marshall, knocking him away.