The Wolves Novels & Stories

Mountains, towering and majestic, rise from a vast, rolling plain. In the distance, I see a fierce battle unfolding. The Ashwalker wolves, their furs blaze with an otherworldly light, are locked in combat with another pack. Their howls, filled with pain and desperation, pierce the air. A wave of empathy washes over me, a deep connection to their suffering.

The figure reaches a large rock, where several wolves gather around him, their eyes reflecting a glimmer of anticipation. Draped in a dark-colored cloak, the figure stands tall, his features obscured from view. The wolves, their loyalty evident, eagerly await his command. In silence, he raises his hand, and at once, the wolves spring into action. They take off, their paws pounding against the forest floor as they engage in a chase, a race driven by their wild instincts. The wolves' fur glistens under the moonlit sky, making them appear both fluffy and imposing. Their primal energy fills the air as

The Da Silva family was a large and luxurious family enemy of the LeStrange but because of their kindness they welcomed us. The Da Silva has a secret and they are a clan of werewolves. Not only them, there are many other families of werewolves spread across the Caroline but they are the kindest of all. They are the one who paid the costs of our marriage to the attorney and especially to my deliver to the hospital. At that time Mrs. Da Silva was also pregnant to her son. Long before we lived, wolves lived in Caroline until the province became civilized. Some Caroline people have died because of bad wolves. The Da Silva clan kept the Caroline safe because they’re were the guardian of the provi

~. .~ Paws Creek was a lively hub of activity, and the visiting she-wolves from various packs stood out with their distinct colors. Each pack had its unique attire, making it easy to distinguish them. The she-wolves wearing pristine white garments were clearly from the Glacier Pack, their attire reflecting the icy lands they hailed from. Their presence exuded an air of cold elegance. On the other hand, the she-wolves donned in vibrant yellow attire hailed from the Sun Pack. Their outfits radiated warmth and vitality, mirroring the sunny region they represented.

Those wolves heard my growl and came to help. My wolves circle the wolves, waiting for my word to attack the wolves. "KILL THEM ALL!" I growl! My wolves begin to take apart the other wolves, piece by piece. I slash into the wolf that infuriated me until he is not moving. I stand over him with his blood covering my paws. My wolves are growling as they take the other wolves apart. They erupt into a victorious howl as Alaska moves toward me. She is afraid. I hope not of me.

I focus a bit more and notice that one of the wolves is Sylas; he has to be fighting Laslo. Sylas is a huge gray wolf, bigger than Laslo’s white wolf. Laslo’s wolf is swiping at Sylas, and his claws connect here and there. Sylas twists his body and kicks Laslo’s wolf, sending it flying into a tree. Laslo’s wolf lays at the base of the tree, sprawled out. Sylas marches to the tree base and hovers over Laslo’s wolf, snarling and biting. His jaw reaches over and grabs at the white wolf’s neck.

"What's that?" "What's what? Oh, the wolf?"

They knelt down and pushed my sweat laced raven hair away from my face, their eyes open and kind. “Hello.” The one with brown eyes and rainbow hair said sweetly, his tone low and soft. “Hello.” I responded nervously, watching him for any sign of aggression. “Why are you laid on the ground?” The second wolf asked me, his blue eyes curious and yet humorous. I sighed, knowing that I should think before I speak, not all tribes were friendly to strangers. “I tripped and I am unable to get back up, I was in the glass tubes for days without food or water.”

I had to tell Cole. Cole was our Alpha and he would know exactly what to do with this information. What my brother and the other wolves dont know is that our pack has been under attck by witches using black magic. Dead wolves have been found around the territory with their hearts ripped out and turned to sludge. Weird symbols were carved into their bodies.

Verina’s wolves fanned out on either side of her, all of them large, dark, with glowing red eyes, crouching down, ready to hurl themselves at my pack. My wolves were equally prepared, stooping low, finding their centers of gravity so they could launch off of the ground and meet any attack midair. Or be the first to strike.