Romans & histoires The Wolf In Sheep's Clothing Chapter 1

As I read the first lines, I began to understand why it had been pushed away and left unseen. The writing was hard to read and very old. The words were strange, and the pages were filled with old signs and markings that were not easy to understand. Even so, as I read more carefully, I found parts that spoke clearly to what I was facing. The book explained the beginning of an ancient wolf. It told the story of a golden wolf and where it came from.

The pages smelled exactly how they looked. Old. Ancient. I carefully turned the first page. And froze. A picture stared back at me. A wolf stood atop a mountain. Silver fur. It was massive and majestic. But what caught my attention wasn't the wolf. It was the tail. Bright red fire blazed behind it. Not fur. Flames. Actual flames. My pulse quickened. I kept reading. Page after page. Story after story. History. Legends. Warnings. Prophecies. Most of it I already knew.

The shadows recoiled, hissing, blinded by the sudden brilliance. I fell to my knees, shielding my eyes. When the light faded, I lifted my head—and gasped. A figure stood between me and the creature. Tall. Cloaked in moonlight. Eyes like endless skies. Power radiated from them in waves, pure and ancient. The First Wolf. Real. Here. Now. The creature hissed, shrinking back. “You have no place in this world anymore.” The First Wolf’s voice was a growl and a promise. “And yet I have come. Because she called me.”

I slowed down, my heart drumming hard against my chest. I summoned courage to venture into the land. The fog around faded away as I went further. The wolves walking around were busy going about their businesses. Surprisingly, no one seemed to care about me or the child in my arms. Nevertheless, I needed clarifications. I stopped a she-wolf who was quick to snarl at me. Her short disheveled black hair and dull green eyes made her look like one of the witches. Her lean body worsened her appearance, but I'd already stopped her.

Enyo Burnside The minute I shift I allow my wolf to take over as I feel myself drowning and I can’t seem to get my head around the words that appeared on the pages of the book or the feeling of familiarity that came the moment she opened the pages of that dusty old book. What is the truth? Is my whole life a lie? I don’t know but what I do know is I am glad Clayton didn’t follow me, I need to digest the information, and who did the old she-wolf mean by she visited me; My head is spinning with everything, I don't even realise where I am until the heavy scent of mums lillies hits me.

I placed my palms against the cover and let the warmth seep into my skin. I smelled the scent of old books before I looked down. I was staring down at the first page in my own book, reading that ominous warning for the second time. ‘Please don’t let this be too far.’ My wolf murmured in my mind. ‘You’re supposed to be the fearless of the two of us.’ I reminded her quietly. ‘There’s fearlessness, and then there’s stupidity.’ She snarled back, “Wolves are not stupid creatures.’ ‘Nor are you humble.’ I grunted, flipping to the second page of my book.

Distant shapes moving through the treeline. Wolves. Dozens of them. And at the front, a woman in crimson. Her red eyes glowed in the darkness. Ravenna. She'd brought an army. --- **End of Chapter 7**

My body feels heavy, but my mind… my mind is awake now. Alive, loud and vivid. Images slice through me in rapid flashes—the bar, Zeke’s infuriating smile, my rage boiling over, leaving the bar. Then the scent in the air. Sweet, sickly, wrong. The shadow following me. My legs pumping, not as legs but as something more. Paws. My bones snapping and reforming, my skin tearing apart to make way for fur. A wolf. My wolf. The memories don't stop there. They keep going to the halloween night—the cage. The black wolf beneath silver bars. Ezekiel’s eyes staring into mine.

Logan and I are like a wolf and sheep arguing over matters of social interaction. I'm the black sheep of the family, and somehow this wolf moves in and starts telling me to do things to please him, but I will not have it. I was also a wolf wearing sheep's clothing because I had to hide from everyone who wanted my head for murder. I was watching Logan walking towards the window. I let out a tired groan, brushing my hair back. I saw the leather jacket on the bed, making me moan. I grabbed it and turned. "Hey, you forgot your-"

Gasping, I try to scramble back—only to hit something soft and cold behind me. A dead body. I recoil with a scream, spinning away, hands shaking, heart pounding in my ears. And then— The wolf turns to face me. Its fur is brilliant white, matted with streaks of blood. I press myself into the dirt, instinct screaming to run, but I can’t move. Muscles ripple beneath its coat as it steps forward, silent and slow. I am so dead. “Good wolf,” I whisper hoarsely. “Stay there. Please—don’t eat me. I’m not food. I’m not food…”