Turtle Wof Fanart Novels & Stories

“My queen. Always.” “What’s new?” “The patrols are out,” she said, voice lower now. “Ryan and Logan have that under control but the energy in the pack is… tight. Everyone’s feeling the tension.” I nodded, but my gaze drifted drawn like a magnet to the corner of the room. Turtela. She was playing, crouched low, her tiny fingers wrapping around a carved wooden wolf one of the artisans had made. Her green eyes sparkled with wonder, her mouth curled into a grin so innocent it made something ache inside me. And then she looked up.

ZENDAYA We were all sitting at the dining table, celebrating the unlocking of my wolf. I was ready to be a Luna to black moon pack and Xander's mother was particularly happy. She was all over me, praising my beauty. She apologized for being mean to me earlier saying it was only because I had no wolf and they didn't want their son to make a Wolfless girl his Luna. According to her, they've worked so hard to make their pack what it was today. So they do not need a weakling to stand behind their mate.

It has a black and white wolf photo with red font on it so you won't be confused with another. https://www.f******k.com/groups/343882321009167/

The little black cat curled up in her lap as usual. "Tonight we find out the real skinny on this, kitty," she murmured as she opened the heavy book to the page she had marked. "I don't even know what I'm looking for any more but I hope I find it soon." She opened the book to the place she'd marked, two pages of hand-drawn sketches. One of the drawings especially caught her eye. The face of the wolf looked almost human and she had the bizarre feeling the animal was staring out at her from the page.

I am thankful he let me listen to that song. “Thank you… I almost forgot about those important details.” I bluntly said. He moves closer messing my hair making me grunt and gesture my hand, sliding it vertically to my neck. It’s a warning not to mess with my hair. “Oh… the tiger is now back.” I never mind what he was saying. I just focus on my drawing; maybe it will help me to find them. I picture out the tattoo I see on that bastard's left chest. It’s the only thing I can hold to find that tattoo. I draw a wolf eating the full moon looking up…maybe to praise the Moon Goddess or the opposite meaning? Devouring?

The whole painting style matched Watt Thompson's original style. The asking price for the painting was 1 billion bucks! The price was fairly reasonable for a Watt Thompson painting. At the Handerson Auction in 2004, a Watt Thompson painted fan, called the Cherry Appreciation, was sold for 4.7 million bucks; it was equivalent to about a billion bucks after so many years had passed. However, that was only a painted fan. The painting in question at that moment was an art piece called the Tiger Roar Mountain. It could fetch 3 billion bucks in an auction, but the seller had asked for 1 billion bucks for it.

The crystal tattoo—hidden just below her collarbone—glowed. Her breath caught. Her bones started to shift. “No…” she gasped, her voice cracking, eyes widening. Her vision burned gold. Her fingers split, twisted, grew claws. Pain tore through her spine as her muscles rippled beneath her skin. Her bones cracked, not with weakness but with power awakening. Her scream morphed into a growl as white fur broke through her skin. The assassin raised his sword high—too slow. Seraphina rose, fully transformed. A massive white wolf—no, not just a wolf. A Lycan. Her fur shimmered like snow in moonlight, her eyes now glowing a fierce yellow.

I set down my phone and I began my drawing of the wolfen goddess I’d been with, looking over her shoulder at me like she had the night before when I’d taken her from behind. As I drew her, I’d thought about sketching in the crescent moon birthmark on her back, but it was a little too low. It felt far too intimate a detail to share with anyone else, especially when I felt so strongly she was mine. I just wanted to make sure the drawing was good enough to help him identify her by her face anyways. I took a picture of it, and sent Damien a text: This is her. Find her ASAP. You got it, he texted back, and the search was on.

Rowan POV. "Now shift baby," I say my heart beating insanely, I tried to connect to my mate, to tell him what was going on, but he was busy with the other two wolves, and he kept on ignoring me. I'll show Aiden tonight, I'll ignore him back and we'll see what he thinks about being ignored by his mate. The small white wolf standing in front of me made me smile, a white wolf, an Omega, the rarest of the rarest wolves out in the world, there are only five of them in the whole world, and now he's the sixth one.

“For a voice willing to speak the names, not to claim them, but to carry them.” He stepped out of the circle then, the light bending around him like smoke in reverse. It did not burn him. It followed him. And as he crossed the room, the walls shifted once more. Behind the carvings, hidden in the bonework, a second layer of markings began to appear. These were not names. These were images—stories burned into the fossil itself, stories of wolves who did not bow to the Cycle, who lived in harmony with something older than the Shift, who chose not to fight for dominance but for preservation.