Rust Wolves Novels & Stories

Saliva dripped from his snarling jaws as he crouched, preparing to attack. The two wolves collided with a thunderous crash, their snarls and growls echoing through the bakery. Claws raked fur and flesh, teeth snapped with lethal intent. Ryker’s agility countered Bruce’s brute strength as they moved in a flurry of strikes and evasions. Despite the chaos, Ryker’s every move was calculated, his wolf form exhibiting both power and precision.

I handed my dad the most recent report that we had received. My dad clenched his jaw as he looked over the report. Over the last few weeks, the threat to the red wolves had increased significantly. It wasn’t just that other wolves were trying to use the red wolf, which had been a significant threat for years. A power hungry Alpha considered the red wolf their golden ticket to gaining power. But these threats seemed to indicate that the rogues were working with other creatures, specifically vampires.

I whispered, pointing. Dorian and Bryan stiffened, their bodies coiling with readiness. The mist shifted, and a figure began to emerge—a wolf, its fur dark with streaks of silver, eyes glinting with intelligence and something familiar, something that struck a chord deep within me. My breath caught. The aura it exuded… it was unmistakable. Blackridge. Rowan’s pack. And yet… different. Younger. Tethered to legacy, to claim, to bloodlines I had only just begun to understand.

*Aurora* The thick pines are not going to hide my prey for long. I’ve got the rogues’ scent in my nose and no matter how far they run, I’ll find them. They’re tired, hungry, and thirsty, but I’ve run them so ragged they won’t even stop if a rabbit throws itself in their path. That’ll teach them to attack and rob our pack. They’re not even organized rogues. Just packless drifters who think it’s okay to go after decent hard-working wolves. They’re nothing if not fierce and cutthroat. Trapped prey is the most dangerous, after all.

But alas, Mom needs my help today and I promised I’d pick her up some hot coffee on my way over to help warm her up since we’re in the middle of Autumn and in Denali, it’ll only get colder from here. Luckily, Denali wolves are built for this kind of persistent wintry climate being that we’ve been living on these snowy-capped Mountains for centuries now that we've grown almost resistant to the cold. It also helps that we're especially known for having white, fluffy fur coats in our wolf form that protect us from the worst of the winds, compared to our other shifter neighbors. I follow reluctantly behind Becca as we enter the Beanery, my mood dwindling with each step we get closer to the worst

~. .~ Paws Creek was a lively hub of activity, and the visiting she-wolves from various packs stood out with their distinct colors. Each pack had its unique attire, making it easy to distinguish them. The she-wolves wearing pristine white garments were clearly from the Glacier Pack, their attire reflecting the icy lands they hailed from. Their presence exuded an air of cold elegance. On the other hand, the she-wolves donned in vibrant yellow attire hailed from the Sun Pack. Their outfits radiated warmth and vitality, mirroring the sunny region they represented.

Without hesitation, Blaze leaps into the fray, his fur bristling with fury as he launches himself at the nearest rogue, teeth flashing in a display of primal dominance. Alexa and Dexter, their own wolf form a blur of motion and grace, and join Blaze in the fight, their movements fluid and coordinating as they engage the rogues with a fierce determination. Alexa's sleek black fur glistens in the moonlight as she dances around her opponents, her agility a testament to her skill in combat. Dexter, a massive gray wolf with eyes as sharp as flint, moved with calculated precision, his strength a formidable force to be reckoned with.

All around us, wolves screamed and howled. Nyra’s pack held their ground, but barely. They moved in their groups, coordinated like teeth in a biting jaw. They took down a Wraith, then moved to the next. But the Wraiths were built for death, their hide unnaturally thick, their bloodthirst too much. Two wolves got crushed under a single stomp just behind me. One was flung into a tree so hard the bark cracked with him. Another unit circled a Wraith whose leading leg was ripped off by Nyra.

**Elizabeth's POV** * I looked over at Austin and I met his sights just enough that I felt burned by fire. He was looking at me with a very unfriendly and hostile look in his eyes. Apparently the reason he had stopped the conversation was not to help me, but because he did not want to hear anyone talking about rogue. "Go on!Keep teaching your fucking course!" Austin yelled at the teacher. The teacher shivered with fear. Austin was scarier than Brandon in his eyes. "... The biggest pack in Timber Wolf is currently the black river pack." "In addition to Timber Wolf, there are five other kinds of werewolves. They are Poison Wolf,Giant Wolf,Winged Wolf,Dwarf Wolf,and Fire Wolf."

There was a tale passed through generations, reaching the 21st Century, about a group of werewolves’ special mutation that brings out dormant abilities from a family’s genetic line. They were said to be marked and blessed by the moon goddess for they were the first of her followers. They were given the title of Legacy Wolves, keeping up their tradition and passing on their special traits through their children.