Western Gunslinger 소설 & 이야기

Sam pointed to a man with gray hair who was staring at her with expressionless black eyes that were as piercing as a wary wolf's. "Doc Mitchell," said Sam. He is driving the shotgun. The veteran touched the handgun holstered at his hip. He looked the part of a grizzled old gunslinger by donning a leather vest, denim, cowboy boots, and a weathered Stetson; all he was missing were chaps and a horse, yet the unmistakable scent of a horse clung to him. He gave a friendly hat-tip. Ravena greeted Doctor Mitchell, "Nice to meet you.

He slipped the gun back in its holster, put the gun belt around his waist and felt the gun’s solid weight against his hip. When he walked out into the lots to catch his horse, he felt grown and complete for the first time in his life. The sun was just easing down toward the Western horizon, the bullbats weredipping toward the stone stock tank that Deets and the Captain had built long ago. Deets had already caught Mr. Gus’s horse, a big solid sorrel they called Mud Pie, and was catching his own mount. Newt shook out a loop, and on the first

He sprang up from the bed, moving across the room as noiselessly as possible. West's heart beat unsteadily against his ribcage as he crept to the desk and slid the drawer open, curling his fingers around the stainless Desert Eagle pistol it revealed. It was a shiny ash beauty with a silencer already installed that his mother had slid it into his hands the week before. He was still new to feeling its weight against his palms, but the little experience that he had would have to do. Back breathlessly pressed against the damp wall, he inched closer to the half-open door. The person outside moved with a slight rustle - he was definitely in the corridor now. West prayed to Allah that he was alone

Dave warned his little sister, walking away. "I'd never allow Loki to treat me like that." She whispered walking to her room. Needing a drink, Lucas headed to a bar in Lunari lands, Lucas was on his 3rd whiskey. His eyes burning into his drink, as if it would burst into flames at his will. Anyone who walked by and looked at him, could see the gears in his head turning, and left him alone, aside from one wolf, a ghost wolf from his past and present, left him alone.

I was sure the moon goddess would give Mason someone better, that would love him genuinely, and he wouldn't feel like he needed to compete with anyone. We made a lot of stops because I had to eat and I had to pee. Mason laughed at me while Marcus grumbled. They took turns driving while I slept most of the time at the backseat of the jeep. We arrived at the gunsmith's house. His name was Isaac Western, he was the only gunsmith that made bullets capable of killing werewolves, and because of that, he was filthy rich. I knew Marcus had more money, but for a human, he was filthy rich. What Marcus had was generations of hard work, this man, made his money in his lifetime.

The ranch was crawling with Grey Wolves. The Rebel lingered on the outskirts of the forest, watching the activity in the distance as he leaned against the trunk of a mountain pine. He surveyed the vast ranchlands before him as he tipped his Stetson lower, adding an extra layer of shadow to his face. The old cowboy hat was only a precaution. He knew none of the pack wolves would recognize him. Aside from his scars, it was one of the key advantages to having the identity of a ghost, and a good thing too…

As long as no civilians get hurt, we’re all good. Right now I need to take this rogue down before he hurts someone. My team caught wind of him towards the edge of our territory and I was hoping to take care of him before he got too far away. It seems luck may not be on my side today though. As soon as the alert went out I grabbed my go bag full of basic weapons and anything else I would need to take the wolf down and hopped on my bike. Since these jerks are so much faster than us, the dirt bikes even out the playing field a little. Very carefully I reach into my bag and grab the tranquilizer gun I keep in there. I speed across the game trails and over rocks trying to close the distance betwe

Was this guy for real? “May I see your driver's license and registration?” he continued, handing his hand out for me. I hated him! “That’s bullshit!” I mumbled, but gave him what he asked for, not wanting to cause a scene – just yet! “This is a New York driver's license,” he asked and his whiny voice cut the last of my nerves! “Do you have any Arkansas ID?” Fuck this! “I got this,” I told him, showing him my middle finger. He frowned and took a step back--- and even had the balls to reach for his gun.