The Wild Places Book Novels & Stories

“What next…dragons? Fairies? Sparkly monsters?” Liana gave me a look. “This isn’t a children’s book, Princess. It’s real life. Real situations.” “Yeah right,” I muttered, “real life where people turn into wolves, vampires walk freely and people perform rituals. Totally normal, not like a blockbuster movie at all.”

It wasn’t every day I got to see the Savage himself at one of these races. I tilted my head skyward, spotting rows upon rows of werewolves lining the rooftops of the buildings–the onyx sky dappled with the brilliant glow of their eyes. It was a kaleidoscope of color as they peered around, leaving warped, mystical shapes in their wake. My attention snagged toward a woman standing a few people to our left, raising her candy-red blouse and flashed her chest toward the bikers. Her shrill voice carried over the crowd despite the noise as she shouted, “Savage! Hey Savage! Look here, baby!”

Parallel worlds. And all of a sudden, only the explosives were heard as they finished with everything. The fire consuming everything, screams, delirium, laughter in another world but in the one where the explosion had taken place it was nothing but pain and death. Valeria could not help smiling when she saw the billows of smoke that, as she herself had said not long ago, covered the bright rays of sunlight. By that time Erika must have been dead. At the place where the explosion had taken place, bells ringing, warning of the fire, patrols arriving, desperate people, screams and more screams. An injustice had just happened at that moment.

Most of them with Ogi. When he was biped. As a quadruped, it's a first. The flora and fauna are breathtaking, but you have to be patient, try to be as steel as possible and make absolute silence. This huge black wolf is not silent. I hope we don't run into a bear. "You're not going to hunt and eat a snowshoe hare. I love them. Remember when we saw one? They're amazing." I was talking a lot, because he couldn't.

“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.

Not even cactus that I know from old westerns and stories that can be tapped for a meager sip and to keep you alive. My feet burn even through heavy boots, as I struggle to higher ground on the nearest dune. At the top, I flounder in the slipping sand across a trough and up to the next dune’s peak, stopping to stare in wonder. It’s still the desert—hot, dry and bright. But here, blooming from nothing but the brutally hot sand are wide swaths of exquisite wildflowers as far as the eye can see. Undulating waves of bright white, yellow, orange, purple and pink flowers crouch against the silty soil like a painted oasis, their heady fragrances permeating the air, proclaiming their silent existenc

It was forbidden and dangerous, a fire we were both playing with, and it was becoming impossible to resist the urge to get burned. The storm hit that night without warning. The sky turned a bruised purple before the clouds opened up, and within minutes, the power flickered and died, plunging the house into total darkness. I sat on my bed, my knees pulled up to my chest, listening to the wind howling against the siding. Thunder cracked directly overhead, a deafening boom that made me flinch and squeeze my eyes shut. I hated storms. I always had. The darkness and the noise made me feel vulnerable and exposed. Sitting alone in the dark, the shadows in my room seemed to stretch and move with eve

She has just gone for a run that it that is all it is. I call my soon to be beta, Bradley since I trust him with my life, I know he was not the best with Kayla to start with but that was only because he did not know who she was, and he thought she was just a horse. Bradley meets me near the forest, and I tell him what has happened and just that we need to find Kayla I have a bad feeling. Bradley suggests that she is just somewhere on the territory, and we head of.

I need to apologize to her. While Jake was left off thinking on his next move, Kate decided to go back to the place near to the gate so that it will be easier for her and not to miss the flight. Luckily she found a seat and she settled in. She took out her book about the Flight Attendant and she continued reading it. While reading, she couldn’t even focus on the book. Jake’s face kept popping through her mind.

I was going to rip the world apart to give it back to him. ​The cutters launched, their engines shrieking like dying banshees as we shot over the walls of the Keep and dove straight into the northern wilderness. ​The Wildlands were not like the Blackwood forests. The North was cold, yes, but it was alive. Here, the snow didn’t melt, the pine trees didn’t grow green, and the air always tasted like old dust and copper. It was uncharted, dangerous, and the only things that lived here were rogues who had gone mad or things that had never been human to begin with.