The Way Of The Wolf Review Novels & Stories

Without thinking about his actions he held her hand tight and pulled her to his chest, hugging her tight as she finally cried. “Do- Domi-nic Hale’s grandfather was a hunter.” Skye started while hiccupping and sobbing, whilst clutching onto the Alpha and Hakan felt his whole body freeze and his blood run cold when he heard the words following her sentence, “a Legacy Wolf hunter.”

Zayn’s POV The wind carried her scent before I ever saw her. It hit me like a slap—a sweet mix of wildflowers and something uniquely hers, sharp and intoxicating, cutting through the forest air. My wolf stirred instantly, growling with a need so necessary it made my chest ache. Mate.

This cowboy wolf was none other than Jeremy Lennon, high commander of the Grey Wolf armies, infamous Grey Wolf warrior, and one of the fiercest wolves ever to live. Anytime one of the Wild Eight had returned to their compound near death’s door and clinging to a thread of life, this man had almost always been the one singularly responsible—and that didn’t begin to cover the damage he’d done to the Wild Eight through the information-gathering and patrolling schedules demanded of his men. If she’d thought his battle scars made him intimidating, the pair of eyes locking onto the bush she hid in, as if he saw straight through the shrubbery, chilled her more than the snow beneath her paws. Irises

I didn't question my father's obsession with wolf artifacts and legends, I didn't question why she wore a protective necklace against something that only existed in my books. I didn't question how my father died, I didn't question anything. I just let life go with me, I let it heal from all the things that were left behind to move on. Soon we were ready, I left the house with the feeling that I should go back but still I went. The Hall was crowded, everyone surprised to finally see me out of my shell, out of the cave where I had been holed up since the day of the great pain. - I don't think I even know how many times that day I heard that phrase pounding in my mind.

“You know, you could chill with the whole storm-slayer vibe. It’s not a Shakespearean play, Alpha. No one’s awarding you Best Dramatic Performance in ‘Survivor: Werewolf Edition.’” His head snapped toward me, those glowing wolf eyes narrowing. “Do you think this is a game, woman? Black Fang doesn’t stop for weather.” “Well, clearly they also don’t stop for fashion choices, because your wolf couture is basically mud and murder chic,” I shot back, hugging my soaked jacket tighter (also found from the horse shed) “Ten out of ten, terrifying. Very on-brand. Bravo.”

Life with Sawyer was peaceful, but so was the attack levels in Trinity Mountains and Boulder Creek, which, if Waverly was being honest, was not what she had thought it would be. Instead of killing Christopher for his retributions, which is the traditional way of handling such matters, Sawyer chose to banish him, immediately making him a rogue wolf; one of the first known in the recent century, until they had clashed with Matteus' pack. Although this decision didn't sit well with some of the Crimson Shadows, since that fateful day, there were no attacks or sightings of rogue wolves again in the area. It was all as it should've always been: relaxing. Waverly stood from her spot and shuffled th

Kevin asked. Kaeden looked at Waylon and shrugged. “Well, he seems to know Roamer… Waylon, how do you know the white wolf?” Sitting up on the floor, Waylon hid his face in his hands. Shaking his head, he answered, “I no know. I sit by lake outside and white wolf runs out of woods. I scared but see wolf blood and no hurt me, he look me then sleep. I no know what to do so I clean him and he blood no more. I—I wait but he no wake and go home. I go back and he very good then we sit and he watch me.”

Some seemed to find it hard to adjust to the method, but still managed to follow through with my father's guidance. One time, I accompanied my father and our people to the Forest Wolf Tribe to check on the progress of their farming and animal domestication. The Alpha of their tribe was named Acwulf, a bluish-gray Wolf beastman with silver eyes. The body of a Wolf beastman was smaller than that of an average Lion beastman, but their muscles were firm, they were more agile, and their nose was more sensitive, making it easier to detect the exact location of their prey even if they were hidden.

The Blackwood wolves surged behind her. A dark shape burst from the treeline. Amber eyes flashed beneath the moonlight. Lyla’s breath sharpened. The rival’s wolf. Lyla’s body coiled with tension. The wolf lunged. Lyla twisted beneath the blow. Her claws slid free beneath her skin. Her fist connected with the wolf’s ribs sharp and clean. The wolf hit the ground hard. Lyla’s breath sharpened. Eli’s silver gaze flashed beside her. Another dark shape lunged toward them.

Waylen runs fast and easy, dodging trees, bushes and any other obstacle that got in our way until we smelled the rotten stench of rogues. I smile. You would think that if they were trying to set a trap, they would at least cover their smell just a little better. Waylen is a very large black wolf with just a hint of light grey. He blends in with the shadows and uses them to his advantage. Even with how big he is, he is very light on his paws and very rarely makes a sound.