The Last Wild Book Novels & Stories

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

But it had happened to the Gray’s; one of the strongest breeds of our kind. Though she had the signature silver blonde hair of a white wolf, Wilda had not turned or showed the signs of turning when she had turned thirteen, as most white wolves did. The situation had been of interest to packs around the Crimson Hills pack that was led by her late father, may the moon goddess rest his soul, and many had thought that perhaps she was a late bloomer.

"The survivors are panicked, Seraphina. They went to gather the soaked nuts from the bank, and the water tasted like vinegar. The New Wild is thinning out." "Because the Author’s desk was only half the machine," Xander said, turning to look at the stranger who held the book. The old man was still standing by the hearth, his face unreadable as he watched the manuscript weep. "You didn't just bring us a blank book, did you? You brought us the Casting Bed."

“I don’t know. Daddy says they protect the city, but I don’t see how. They never do anything.” My finger stopped on a worn out book. The faded writing on the spine said Beasts Of The Wild. I pulled it out and flipped it open in the middle. There was a drawing of a yeti-looking creature called a yowg. The description gave details of height, size and hair colour. Dietary information and habitats were also included. I flicked through more pages and found more creatures, some of which I was familiar with. The names, at least. Unfortunately, the book wasn’t organised into alphabetical order, so I had to search a number of pages before I found what I was looking for: Mouse King.

We promised ourselves not to worry about the future but take the days gradually as they come and go and live in every moment as if it were our last. THE END (This book is the second book of the spirit wolf series. The last book of the Spirit Wolf Series would soon be out. Thank you for your love, support and votes)

was over, but this was now glowing with a final, terrifying name. The one who had stayed in the stars when the King fled. The one who had turned the "Origin-World" into a cold, entropic empire. "The final stretch, Emma," Félix said, his daggers appearing in his hands. "The final stretch, Lixie," I replied, my golden eyes turning a hard, solid indigo. The North was a sanctuary no longer. It was the Last Stand of the Wild.

The last thing I heard was Julie’s startled scream and the man’s low, possessive chuckle. “She belongs to the forest now.” Everything went black.

We never went back to normal, and honestly, none of us wanted to. That wild night changed us all. Some secrets don’t destroy you, they open doors you never knew existed. The End

I need to take time. I remember the small room I entered last time. I slowly opened the door and turned on the lampshade. The books on the table were still scattered. I tried to look and read each one of them. These are all interesting books. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, and a lot more. I tried to find something that might help me, but I found nothing.