Warrior Cat Art Novels & Stories

annoying. I was actually looking forward to my afternoon as Arthur my old boss from the Gallery had called me yesterday asking if I could fill in for one of the girls, luckily I had the day free so I agreed and I was looking forward to being back in the gallery again. I got in my uniform and headed there, giving the usual nods and ”hello’s” to passers by that I knew, the good thing about being a patrol warrior was that you got to know more people in the pack and I got to know how many wolf’s had chosen humans as their mates, I always knew we had some humans living amongst us but turns out there is more than I expected, and so far the ones I had met had been nothing but grateful for the prote

What kind of women-deprecating shit goes on in this pack? I sigh and shake my head. Then, the first warrior steps forward. He’s a brunette, broad-shouldered, thick-necked, and built like a freight train. He eyes my bloody claws. His gaze lingers on my canines before moving to my eyes. But the bastard’s smile is cocky, the kind that says he’s already decided I’ll last five seconds… ten if he’s feeling generous. As we square up, the air between us sharpens, charged with tension and silent judgment.

I try stepping away only to be grabbed forcefully and yanked against the warrior, as bends closer his over cologned odor overwhelms my senses, as he growls lowly, "You may be a Luna but as a council warrior I still rank higher than you. I suggest you listen." A roar I would recognize anywhere breaks through the forest, shaking the world around me and making me pool into a puddle of desire. Suddenly, the wind shifts my nostrils filling with the most delectable scent, that I have craved for days. Scarlett feral as she thrashes around internally nearly impossible to control.

I said, looking at the next guy. "Come on," I said, calling him. He was holding one sword, which made me drop one of my sword, to fight with him. "Please note that your enemy will not be as lenient as me to reduce my weapon, the more for them, the advantage it is," I explained. "You should have let us use our wolf form," he complained. "And why would I?" I asked. "Because that's how we were trained, if I am using my wolf mood, I am more confident to win you," he replied.

Quinn said, cursing. Quinn was our councill demon, he was millenniums old and there wasn’t much he couldn’t do. I shot my gaze at Fiona, the council witch, her eyes were white and she was shaking. I dashed to her and held her, she was freezing. After a few seconds she went limp in my arms. She was still alive but barely. “Isaac, immediately order ALL Warriors home, by my orders!” This motherfucker dared to come into MY HOUSE, MY HOUSE and pull this? My own warrior, going against, ME?! Against his brothers, against the council?!

"What if I want nothing but war and want to kill your Lord? What will you do?" Dimitri asked, a sinister smile making its way on his face. His smile made him look all the more evil and cunning and Cathal, for the first time after entering Hollis, did not feel afraid of him.

My best friend Allen, Delta Heir, is already branching out into the Healing and Magic arts and its application to technology. My goal as a pack member is to become a warrior. Because I grew up chubby, that doesn't apply to me but guess what? As I said, I always carried a mean right hook with me. My weight just adds power to it. And with all the training I had received since joining the Gamma Warrior program, I could keep my shapely body and build strength and stamina.

:Warrior, you said you had another such vision earlier. Rhychard nodded as he told them about the incident at his parents' house. "That one was real enough to singe my fingertips." He held out his hands for their inspection. Tryna slid off the table, took his fingers in her tiny hands, and inspected them as if she were a doctor. "You really should have had Kree treat these burns when they first occurred. That is part of the reason cosheys bond with Warriors, remember? Their healing powers help keep you alive."

The warriors fought valiantly—clad in weathered leather and steel, swords flashing in disciplined arcs—but they fell in droves, bodies rent and steaming on the blood-soaked earth. Yet one figure dominated the chaos, a lone titan at the fray's heart. He stood unyielding amid the sea of claws and fangs, a whirlwind of lethal grace. Towering and broad-shouldered, his frame was forged for war, muscles rippling under scarred skin bared by a torn tunic. Long, raven-black hair whipped in the wind, streaked with grime and enemy blood, framing a face etched with grim resolve—high cheekbones, a jaw set like granite, eyes burning with unquenchable fire. A crest gleamed on his chest plate: the Moonveil

A look of shame came across the faces of the warriors and the one who had spoken for them looked at me with regret in his eyes “Please forgive us, commander, we did not recognize you.” “Mason,” I greet the werecat who was one our best warriors back in MacTire. “It is good to see you, I did not realize you were still here with Tawny?” “I requested to stay with her, sir.” He said giving me a short bow. “Who are your friends?” He questions lifting a dark brow.