Webbed Dog Paws Novels & Stories

Preditors that preyed of animals such as deer. My brother stepped out of the tree he was hidden behind, his large chocolate brown wolf standing in all its glory. His wolf resembled mom's except he didn't have a white underbelly like her. Instead, he had black paws which made it look as if he wore black socks over them. Obviously, because of our rank, his wolf was smaller than mine but he was strong because of the blood of an alpha running through his veins.

Like he’s descending the slope, making me dare a peek from where I lie half-hidden. An Abomination, alright, a blind one like the one Lian had attacked, but considerably bigger…with claws. They protrude from his hands like hooks, the deadliest I've seen, and that's saying something. And on his legs, instead of hooves, are large wolf paws.

she continued and I buried my face in my palms. "I had no business with the werewolf world, Adam doesn't know that I was pregnant for him so who the hell would dare to take my children away from me?" I mumbled inaudibly as my tears fell freely. "Can you describe how these dogs looks like? Any significant thing about them?" Kenneth asked and she hesitated before finally speaking up. "They have lots of furs unlike normal dogs. They seem very huge and some had silver eyes while some dark red eyes" she described, leaving no doubts that the predators are werewolves.

There were far too many rocks on the shore to make swimming almost impossible, but still, whenever I was feeling down, I would come here often, just so I could watch the sun bring new light into the world. But there was another thing that often drew me to this beach. Paw prints. They were all over the sand. At first glance, they would look like regular paws, puppy paws…unless you take into account the fact that we were in a rundown neighbourhood that didn't even have dogs to begin with. But I knew what these were very well…wolf paws.

Henry's POV We arrived at the shelter, and there were many animals. Clara was emotional and even a bit sad, which moved me. She walked between the kennels, playing with the puppies that came close to the bars. In the last kennel, she saw a large dog lying at the back. He had round, sad eyes, droopy ears, short black fur with a white patch running between his eyes down to his snout, and one white paw. He was alone in that kennel.

His webbed paw was grasping my wrist gently and firmly, even if his gaze was as ferocious as a reaper from hell, glaring fixedly at the soldiers approaching us. Just as the fishing net was about to land on us, Dicken wrapped his arms around me, his razor sharp tail swiping at the soldiers’ ankles. For my part, I grabbed the fishing net, tearing wildly at it as if to release the hot streams of energy within me, stimulating me and crashing through my body. My hands had turned into webbed paws, and were working in tandem with Dicken to soon tear a gaping hole through it, allowing our bodies to slip through the net at once.

I paused to see and the smell of it was even stronger. I find a shape down in the mud, a print, almost like a dog’s, but stretched and split, the toes too long. There are two, side by side, one bigger, one small. I kneel down to touch it, fingertips cold, but the print is fresher than the ground around it. I can almost feel the thing breathing, as if the paw itself is a mouth.

My paws look more like feet and hands! “What the hell just happened?! How the fuck am I talking?!” Was that the moon goddess? I am freaking out! I turn to check on Harper. She is standing in front of me, and she is stunning. “Mia, my mate.” I hear Mika purr. Her fur was pearl white, and it had a blue sheen depending on the way she turned. Her claws were like mine, extra-long and sharp. Her blue eyes pierced into mine as her gaze fell on me. Her snout was larger than that of a normal wolf. It had to be to contain those K-9’s. We were both huge and standing on two feet. I would venture to say that we matched Thane in height.

I took one more photo, then retreated inside and locked the door behind me. G****e was not reassuring. I sat at the kitchen table, laptop open, .22 within arm's reach, and fell down a rabbit hole of wildlife identification pages. Gray wolf tracks averaged four to five inches. Red wolves, smaller. Coyotes, smaller still. The largest domestic dogs — Great Danes, Irish Wolfhounds — topped out around five inches, maybe five and a half. Six inches was off the charts. I scrolled through image after image, comparing them to the photos on my phone. The shape was right — four toes, claw marks, the distinctive triangular pad. But the size was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

*Kiera* The private jet hums softly around us, a comforting backdrop to the excitement bubbling in my chest. I glance over at Frida, her face aglow with anticipation as she cradles Webby in her lap. The little golden retriever puppy is squirming and pawing at her, occasionally letting out a tiny yip that makes us all laugh. I can’t help but smile at the sight; it’s like watching a living embodiment of joy.