Warriors Cats Hawkfrost Novels & Stories

But Frost gestures for them to stand down, clasping arms warmly in greeting. "Well met, brothers. I have returned, and bring glad tidings." He turns, beckoning us forward. "This is Scar, the last dragon bonded to Lena. And his second in command, Hermes. They come as allies this day." Wonderment reflects on the weathered faces studying us. I exchange subtle nods with the bald, muscle-clad warrior who steps forward - Flint, Frost's second-in-command if I recall. His steely gaze promises thorough scrutiny, but I detect no overt hostility from any. Frost's word holds weight here.

*Part 5 – The Blizzard and the Axe, Day 67, Dawn* Frostfang came with the storm. 200 wolves moving like one grey wave. They didn’t howl. They didn’t announce. Raiders don’t warn prey. Alpha Varga led them. 7 feet tall. Axe head was a slab of black stone. Scars covered his face like a map of every pack he’d broken. They hit the high pass at sunrise. Saw Nightclaw waiting. Varga laughed. Sound like rocks grinding. “Nightclaw! You voted no! Why do you stand in snow for people who aren’t yours?”

I gasped, stepping back. The largest wolf shifted, its body shrinking and changing until a tall man with long, silver hair stood before me. He wore a leather jacket with the Resistance symbol on the back, but his eyes were pure, animal yellow. "My name is Logan Frost," the man said. He wiped silver blood from his mouth and looked at the monitor. "And we’re the ones the Board forgot to delete. We’re the rejected mates of the Hive, Hazel. And we’re here for our revenge." He reached out a hand, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the gold heart pinned to my shirt.

*** The forest north of Blackmoor is quiet in the way battlefields often are before blood is spilled. Our warriors move through the trees in silent formation, like shadows slipping between trunks and brush. Wesley leads the forward flank while I remain slightly behind with the second wave. Riddick paces beneath my skin. ‘Frostveil wolves smell nervous.’ “They should be,” I reply. We reach the ridge just as the clash begins. A Frostveil warrior lunges from the brush, teeth bared, fur bristling silver under the afternoon sun. Behind him, more wolves burst from the trees. They are too loud and aggressive. Not disciplined at all.

CAST - I raced through the dense forest. Shadows of trees streaked by, their skeletal branches clawing at the moonlit sky. The pack followed close, their pale white bodies glowing in the moonlight. Their eyes burned with a sickly green hue, eerily similar to Kat's human eyes. Her voice was louder than the cacophony of snapping twigs and guttural growls. She sat on the back of a massive white wolf, her hair whipping wildly as she screamed at me. “You kill them, or we will!”

I can feel my tears forming and dropping. Please, don't take him away from me! Please! And I finally drift into painful unconsciousness! ****** *WILLIAM* “From my observation, it seems that the warriors will all be coming from the strongest Packs of different cardinal territories. Hera came from Aquatic of the South,Aurora from Greenspan of the west and Zoe from Mystic of the East. Now, the fourth warrior Iris will for sure come from the strongest Pack of the South, Bronchus.” Zack states in length.

"The pack is called the Frostmarch," Corvus said. "And they've killed more Moon-Wolves than every other pack combined." The war room was packed. Maren and Sera stood at the head of the table. Maelis sat with her ancient hands folded. Elara was beside her, and Halden Crowe stood at her shoulder. Orin guarded the door. Rook leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Even Wren was there, her belly round and her gold eyes fierce.

The wind howled through the narrow, snow-choked streets of Snowridge, as if warning anyone who dared to venture out into the deadly storm. Asha Frostheart, her face partially hidden beneath a fur-lined cloak, moved swiftly through the thick snowfall, her white wolf companion, Ghost, at her side. The blizzard's icy bite pierced through her layers of clothing, but her focus remained unbroken.

Determined. Something stirred within Chloe, battling against the fear that wrapped around her like cutting chains. Whatever it was waking up inside of her reacted to the presence of this male as he dominated the space around them. The winds had cut across his cheeks and nose to leave them pink and flecks of snow clung desperately to the wisps of jet black hair peeking out from under his woollen hat. He looked different in what appeared to be fatigues. There were crisp sharp edges that were almost as deadly as the assault rifle strapped to him. The black of the material seemed to absorb the light around it. He looked deadly and it had Chloe's mouth drying up as a curious thirst wracked her. A

Aurelia raised her hand, power glowing at her fingertips. I didn’t move. She lifted both hands, palms outward, and the air dropped ten degrees in a blink. Frost spread from her boots in a circular wave, curling up the wooden stage. The air crackled with quiet, elegant threat. “I did not cause the war,” she said, calm but cold. “But I will fight in it. For every wolf who chooses to stand beside me.” The air fell still.