Snowfur Warriors Novels & Stories

Below us, the valleys were choked with the grey-white fog of a winter that refused to end, and through that fog, I could hear the rhythmic, terrifying thunder of Ten Thousand Paws. The High Council hadn't sent soldiers in suits. They had unleashed the Feral-Sins—the wolves who had been stripped of their humanity centuries ago, kept in the dark of the West’s dungeons, fed only on the blood of their own kin. I stood at the edge of the precipice, my Sunset-Gold Fire rolling off my skin in waves of heat that melted the permafrost beneath my feet. My claws, elongated and obsidian-sharp, twitched with a hunger I hadn't felt since the first night I shifted in the Square.

Turning my hand I was curious about why I was glowing then stopped abruptly as I looked skyward and saw the full moon shining above. “Have the others shifted?” I asked as I turned around and saw glowing sets of eyes in the forest. Grinning slightly I whistled and the eyes started to get closer. Huge Dire wolves stepped from the treeline and lowered their heads as they approached me. I ran my hand over their fur as they walked right up to me. “They are the Frost Cloud Warriors,” Killian stated in awe and I nodded at them looking at me. “Where is their king?” I inquired then glanced at the trees to see if Frost was coming to join his men.

Frostspire a defeated adversary, the marrow god the ultimate enemy. The Dawn Pack stood in a tight formation near the entrance of the sanctum, their breaths visible in the frigid air, their cloaks pulled tight against the chill, the frost dusting their shoulders, their packs discarded at the entrance, their weapons drawn, the air thick with the anticipation of the final battle, the wind howling through the chamber, the ice crunching under their boots, the chill seeping through their layers, their bond a radiant flame against the cold, the blue glow a constant threat, the marrow god a towering adversary they faced as one. Samantha Lykos stood at the forefront, her crescent-tipped staff gripp

The two pack wolves fought alongside her, finishing the feral animals Nueva's beast had injured. Soon the campsite was filled with the dead bodies of the Rogues that dared to attack her. The rest had taken to the woods running for their life. As the imminent danger was gone, her wolf began to shrink back to her usual size. Her tufted fur was coloured pink from the battle, and her eyes were still glowing blue from the rush. She walked over to the silver-coloured wolf and locked her eyes with his. "Are you following me?" Nueva asked in the mind link.

“Bai Hu. The Lord of Fuxi, protector of the West.” “The white tiger.” Jin nodded. “If we are to summon one of the holy beasts, Bai Hu is our best bet. Have you made up your mind?” Jade had almost forgotten about the decision she had to make. Now that she has seen Bai Hu, the legend didn’t sound as far-fetched as she thought. Besides, she needed to get home. No matter what it takes. With her jaws set and eyes fiery with determination, she nodded. “Yes. Let’s go find Bai Hu’s stars.”

This was senseless, his screams were long, and my curiosity overpowered my fear when I looked out the frosted window. My fingertips burned, my head pulsed, and I was so ashamed because I was so hungry, terribly hungry. My mouth salivated when I saw the driver pulled apart. Two masked men in large, white fur coats with mud on them, rubbed along their bodies to camouflage into the forest tore his ligaments apart.

As we descended into the subterranean colosseum, the noise became overwhelming. Two thousand warriors filled the stone tiers of the cavern. These were the Shadow Warriors—the battle-scarred outcasts of the Dead Woods. They were alphas, betas, and omegas who had been rejected by their birth packs, criminals who had survived the brutal winter wilderness, and veterans of forgotten border wars. They didn't wear uniforms; they wore heavy furs, iron chains, and leather straps over bodies covered in jagged claw scars. They were savage, and radiated a volatile pressure.

A group of wolves wearing white armor. White Fang armor. Her eyes widened. “White Fang?” Her mother nodded. “They came.” The future Luna stared. The White Fang warriors fought beside the Moonborn Clan. Protecting them. Defending them. Dying beside them. Among them stood a man. Tall. Powerful. Fearless. His silver hair immediately reminded Sam of someone. Froz. The resemblance was undeniable. “His father.” Her mother answered before she asked. The realization struck hard. Froz’s father.

So they didn’t step back. Karan took a spear through his arm and kept fighting with the other. “For the wheat!” he roared. “For the children who eat it!” Then Riverpack hit from the side. Boats slammed into shore, wolves jumping out with fishing spears. Wet, cold, angry. They knew every current, every shallow spot. Frostfang didn’t. Mistwood arrows fell like rain from trees. Saira herself shot 3 Frostfang wolves before an axe took her bow. She dropped it and picked up a fallen spear.

Zephyrus yelled at his warriors. They all surged ahead to face my encroaching warriors while Zephyrus, Stavros and Homer, his Delta, went on a killing spree, facing my skilled warriors fearlessly. It wasn’t an arduous task for Zephyrus at all, since a bite or a scratch from his sharp claws was enough to kill my skilled wolves. There was utter chaos all around me. Blood spattered on the snowy ground and painful howls pierced the air. It was a scene I was accustomed to, but tonight I couldn’t be a part of it.