Novel & Cerita Small White Wolf

I could tell by their faces they were trying to piece together why that would have happened. We were watching the tree line when we saw a small wolf running as fast as it could with a blue flag in its mouth. I only noticed it because it was covered in bright red blood. It was a white wolf, one of the Crescent Moon Packs. Several more wolves came out of the tree line, some chasing it and some fighting with two other white wolves also covered in red blood.

He beamed with pride as we stopped in front of the first cage. It was a wolf, tiny and weak. So tiny, that it sat curled up under a small tree. It lifted its head when it saw us. Then it yawned and its head fell back down. “Is that a wolf pup?” I asked, confused. “No! It’s a full grown midget wolf! Isn’t that such a blast!” He chuckled when he said it. I looked again. A midget wolf? Those were rare, super rare. They were wolves that had gone wrong, like a disability. They couldn’t reach full werewolf size, so they were usually kept inside and never released.

The fur that adorned my wolf's form was not just any color—it was a pure, pristine white. Whispers rippled through the pack, carried on the wind like a sacred secret revealed. The legend of the white wolf echoed in their murmurs, a tale passed down through generations. It was said that a white wolf possessed a unique power, a healing ability that transcended the bounds of ordinary werewolves. They were believed to be chosen, destined to bring solace and aid to those in need.

The smell became star get as he walked towards the dinning room and then his eyes on it. It was a small white wolf. The wolf was completely white and with it's soft white fur it looked adorable. But it was unconscious and lyton the floor. Sylvester carefully walked towards it and poked his finger in it's head. "H E Y..." He wondered if Gia brought it here but white wolves were completely rare. These wolves were considered pure and magical making him wonder how a white wolf reached to his pack. Suddenly the wolf moved and tried to open it's eyes while Sylvester scanned it when he heard a growl inside his head.

My wolf… she was small and doesn't look any menacing like a wolf should look like. The first time I had shifted in the bluecreek pack, they had called my wolf a puppy. Her fur was pure white, almost glowing under the moonlight, with streaks of gold running through it. Her eyes were bright blue, and the most remarkable feature was a red bright dot on her forehead. I took a step forward, my heart pounding as I waited for the disgust, the fear, the rejection. I braced myself for the mocking and scoff that usually follows after I turn into my wolf, but it never comes.

I caught her scent about further 100m away, behind a fountain. Her wolf emerged from the water. White, her wolf was white.Gorgeous.My wolf was Liam, her's was Ophelia, our wolves met, and seemed to like each other well. White is a very rare color, very few have them. Especially a female wolf being white. It was amazing since the white fur was given to the most powerful wolfs only, this is the first time I saw a she-wolf with white fur

Getting to have a meeting with three or more is already overwhelming, talkless of gathering in a party of the overrated underground Mafia. [It's not bad to try] My wolf chirped in my mind, he has been quiet this whole time. "Tsk, Amir. We shouldn't poke our nose into what isn't our business.” [Fine] He retreated into my mind. I wiped my neck with a mini towel and took out cold water from the refrigerator and poured into a glass. Amir is a special kind of wolf. An Arctic Wolf. My mother will always praise me with proud eyes for blooming into a rare and special wolf like Canis lupus.

As she looked across the clearing it was filled with wolves, black, brown, grey, sable, and one lone white wolf. He was immense and stood on the precipice, watching those below. A black wolf that was just as big approached and stood by his side. They exchanged glances and looked in her direction. She had to side step to avoid being bowled over by the gigantic black panther that barreled past her on her way to the top of the bluff. She rubbed her body along the side of the white wolf. She purred as he licked her head.

What is her gift? - We, by virtue of nature, cannot freely communicate with animals, they are afraid of us, - she began to explain, - and werewolves with such a gift not only approach any animals calmly, but also feel their life streams. For example, you can say that your head hurts, show where it hurts, and werewolves with such a gift feel it. They are excellent veterinarians and are highly valued at our fur farms. In our flock, sable, arctic fox, marten, ermine are bred. A very profitable business. I still don't get what's wrong? A wonderful gift, - but I thought to myself that I don’t have a gift at all.

Possibly, there could be a way to hunt down this beast, yet how long wouldn't take to study the ethics of its domination and movement? He picked himself up from the ground, laying Ashley on the ground as he walked around, bending downwards, picking up broken tree branches and twigs. Each werewolf pack had its own beliefs and principles. One which remained for the silver moon pack for years was the principles of cremation. They never believed in the burying of their dead, they thought of burning their bodies to avoid the cases of having a rebirth which could cause something drastic in the pack. There might have been someone out there who had thoughts of the phantom being a product of an unhol