The Little Wartime Library Novels & Stories

Our pack's library was famous for having the copies and even some originals of the most sacred pieces of werewolf books, personal journals, poems and stories and basically everything which is why I loved spending time in the library as a child, I used to be so interested in studying about our history, about how Wolves before us used to live, the things that used to exist before, all the wars that happened within our communities. I guess I lost interest as I grew up though, I got more busy with school amd training. Over the years the collection in the library kept growing but I wasn't here to read the new additions. Now I wished I had maintained my interest, there used to be a point in my lif

he said, amused, and I said no more because whatever I said was going to be against me. I knew that very well, so when we got to the library, I went straight to get the books on the war, and the librarian waited on me solicitously. He gave me a few books from the general section as well as the restricted section. I looked through them and read them bit by bit, then checked out a few copies of the chapters I was to study, which gave me a chance to go to the records to look up Emlyn's name. That was something that didn't surprise me, so surely it was a name used as an alias. I looked up a map of the packs and sat back down at the table, but inadvertently dropped a black book.

“Alright. Lead the way.” The library was older than the rest of the campus, its walls lined with shelves warped by time and neglect. Dust clung to everything, thick enough to dull the scent of paper and ink. The silence inside felt deliberate, as though the room itself was guarding what little it held. We searched for hours. Records of ancient wars ended abruptly. Timelines fractured without explanation. Entire centuries were reduced to vague footnotes and missing pages. Every trail we followed led to the same dead end. Whatever truth once existed here had been carefully stripped away.

I had told him when I became Luna that he didn't have to lower his head when it was just the two of us, mostly because we spent so much time together that I was sure he'd develop neck problems if he did. Reed pulled up and parked in front of the oldest brick building in town, the library. While this place did house books on strategies, werewolf history and our records of the war, it was also our command center. A sign hung out front of the two story building that read, Private Collection: Appointment Only just in case any humans were travelling through town and tried to enter.

I said, "we can't let them find this." Elena moved quickly to help me, and together we sealed the box and slid it beneath a loose panel in the library's old window seat, one Mrs. Whitfield assured us her own mother had used to hide ration coupons during the war decades earlier, the wood fitting back into place with a soft, practiced click. We were barely finished when the front door opened downstairs, footsteps echoing across the marble entry with a confidence that told me exactly who had let themselves into a house they had no legal claim to at all.