Red Wolf Novel Novels & Stories

“It’s an ancient language used centuries ago,” Morgan says, lifting her gaze from the brownish-red book to look at us. “Where did you find this?” Raina hesitates. “Back in the territory.” Morgan’s eyes drop to the book again. “I’ve always wanted a copy. I never thought the Alpha had it all this time.” “What is the book about?” Raina asks. “Red wolves and their true history.” Raina and I glance at each other.

They scattered, some reached Europe, and others sailed and reached America, and November’s very own roots stepped foot in Korea. A familiar howl from outside of November’s room reverberated and November jumped off her bed, pushed the window open and she waved at the black wolf below. “Jennie!” Wolf Jennie howled again, calling to her. She moved to the ground restlessly. Then she growled, Jennie was getting annoyed already. November giggled. She stepped up the window sills and jumped down, she gracefully landed exactly beside Jennie. Wolf Jennie growled annoyingly, she pawed November and she raised her tail as if giving November the finger before trotting away. November shook her head, smiling

Mike remarked as his self-assurance dwindled. He rolled his eyes and said, "But since when I started reading books." He went to the antique books and manuscripts corridor after arriving at the library. And began looking for collections of eternal wolves. Yona, meantime, was in the corridor's opposite column. She was researching about werewolves in order to give her novel's readers a glimpse into the true world of werewolves. Yes, I didn't tell you that Yona is a creative fantasy fiction author who works part-time for online novel apps.

I quickly paced down the hall so I could get to the room faster and open this book that felt like a newfound piece of treasure in my hands. As I scanned through the first few pages of the book, it was picture after picture of different drawings and versions of what a nightwolf was portrayed to look like. Some of them were detailed to be howling at the moon, whilst several illustrations had a sort of evil and rabid look to them. But there was one in particular that caught my eye, and instead of just flicking past it, I stopped, staring at how strikingly similar it was. The wolf was pure black, just like mine. No white, silver streaks across its fur like all the others had, and this one was th

"I am going to change everything and it's because of you, that I'm so certain. I haven't told anyone this because it was a time that I found doubt in myself–as a shifter and an alpha. A horrible accident nearly killed me when I was in Genoa and it effected my healing, strength, speed; everything," He put his head on her shoulder with a sigh, "I was afraid to lose who I was and in a desperate attempt to heal faster I found... unconventional advice. There is no exact scientifical explanation for rogue wolves because they are like an illness, but what if we introduced that into our normal DNA?" A series of sounds appeared at max volume in her mind, from screams to running steps–the swish of gra

The wind shifts, carrying a scent that coils through my lungs-soft, sharp, dangerously enticing. Wild roses. Fresh rain. Her scent. Nova. A low smile pulls at my mouth. “So,” I murmur to the night, “the little wolf has started to wake.” For days I’ve been sensing odd fluctuations around the borders — faint but growing. Like someone learning how to breathe fire without knowing they’re made of flames. I thought it was impossible at first. The Red Wolves were gone. Erased. Hunted until the bloodline ended. Well at least my mother thought so.

“Now.” But it was too late. A growl came from the trees. Then another. Then ten more. Eyes glowed in the dark. Dozens of them. Rogue wolves. Huge. Scarred. Foaming at the mouth. Lycan stepped forward. “This is your only chance. Leave. Or die.” The rogues didn’t speak. They charged. **Rosa’s POV** The fight was chaotic. Snarls. Blood. Claws. I sliced one rogue’s throat, then ducked as another leapt over me.

I hated how steadying it felt. I stepped back before I could think too hard about that. "Just — explain. You said you'd seen this before. What did you mean?" "There's a novel," he said. "About a wolf warrior who enrolls at an academy and starts shifting into a black wolf instead of the rare white wolf she was born with. No one can explain it. Not at first." My pulse spiked. "Who wrote it?" "Sophie Miller, I think." The name hit me like a blow to the chest. The world tilted, sound rushing out of my ears until all I could hear was my own heartbeat, deafening.

The air was cold, and the night was dark. But it doesn’t matter for the young wolf. What is cold to his thick, coarse fur– what is dark for his eyes that sees better in the shadows? This is his first night as a Delta Guard. Finally, a part of the pack and not just a litter pup. He runs through the woods, feeling the tree branches snap as he passes them by. Squirrels and rabbits, foxes and deers, all make way as they sense him near. Is this what freedom feels like? Is this what power is? The wilderness calls and he answers.

Nueva couldn't understand the language; it looked complicated and old, but the hand-drawn pictures drew her in. The pictures were of werewolves. The first couple of pages had drawings of two large wolf's, one black and one red. She could make out the names Saul and Thiago's amongst the foreign written words. After a few pages, the black wolf lay bloodied on the ground next to a smaller grey wolf. A small pup was sitting next to the lifeless bodies— Painted in the background was a red wolf in blurry faint lines. It was almost like the red wolf was disappearing into a dense fog. Even if she didn't understand the words, the pictures told the sad story, and Nueva sniffled as she looked at the sm