Silver Wolves Novels & Stories

Meanwhile, the twins still stood there calm as ever. Then suddenly... Boom. In less than two minutes, both of them shifted. And I swear to the Moon Goddess, I had never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. Nova’s wolf was a shimmering silver, almost like her fur was woven from starlight and glitter. Every strand glowed beneath the blue moon. Sloane’s wolf was a creamy pearl color, soft and luminous like polished opal. And over each of their eyes rested a star-shaped marking. Nova’s was cream.

Valerie replied. "Okay, White Wolf is often called the "polar wolf" or "Arctic wolf," Arctic wolves inhabit the Arctic regions of North America and Greenland. Thanks to its isolation, the Arctic wolf is not threatened by hunting. It is the most productive hunter in the pack haters it is made or female. When they are in charge of hunting the pack always bask in the abundance of food all year round until they are way very old and also they are not afraid of habitat destruction in the same way as their southern relatives, that is, enemies. They find it fun to match enemies and win every battle.

I chuckled softly, “I expect nothing less from the Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack” Percival Horton’s the alpha of the Silvermoon Pack up in the North. They’re like the lone rangers, the only pack around those cold parts. Not too big, not too small, and they don’t mingle much with other packs or big gatherings. They’re all about doing their own thing. Men and women there are all warriors. They are deadly wolves like Lycan’s who are bloodthirsty and undergo harsh training, unlike normal packs.

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.

~. .~ 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.

I felt insulted and unsafe there. “I’m not sure. I have to check the register. Three years ago, a pack of twenty-five silver wolves lived in the Waterton Lake Area in Alberta, Canada. Maybe they have shifted to Glacier National Park in Montana. I’m not sure. They were the second pack, along with yours on this continent. The only large pack of silver wolves live in Ziliana, Mount Olympus, Greece. I believe your ancestors have separated from them to form their packs.”

We have quite a few white wolves being born recently…so we were weary that some may get the wrong idea. I breathed a sigh of relief and I knew he heard it as well. Silver wolves and whites were entirely different, differentiated by the silver fur that was what gave the Silver Alpha breeders their unique name. Some might mistake their white fur as silver and think too highly of themselves, but they were nowhere near the same species. 'Okay.' I told him now, opening my eyes to the world around me. 'I think it's best if we keep this information hidden for now. There's no need to cause any unnecessary trouble.'

I growl stalking towards him again “Martin wait” Bryat says and I turn to him, anger still boiling in me “do you remember the story…the one they told us when we were younger. The black female wolf. If what he says is true…if Claire is the black female wolf she doesn’t get a mate. If this is true there could be more alphas coming to see if it’s true”

Pulled me toward the forest. I knew the pack wouldn’t like me going anywhere alone. After the last attack, they barely allowed me to walk to the washroom without an escort. The Blackridge Wolves might be the most ruthless NHL team on the ice, but off the rink? They acted like guard dogs hovering over a single bone. And unfortunately… the bone was me. I slipped out of the lodge anyway, keeping my head down, hoodie up, every step soft against the grass. I didn’t shift. I couldn’t risk drawing attention. I followed the tug in my chest like an invisible string, deeper into the dark where the forest swallowed the moon.

For me. Each pack had an order of hierarchy, at the very top sat the Gold Moon wolves: regal, untouchable, their golden-flecked eyes marking them as near-gods among us. They ruled the council, commanded the armies, held the sacred grounds. Below them came the Silver Moon wolves… Lynix, they were called. A near-extinct breed whose blood carried the silver strain, making them impervious to the metal that killed every other wolf. Legends said they could heal from wounds that should’ve been fatal, walk through silver-laced traps unscathed. But a war or perhaps a plague… had wiped them out generations ago. Or so the stories went. I scrunched my nose, trying to remember if Mother had ever mentione