Westerns 소설 & 이야기

Legit concealing the illicit. The competition had just officially begun, and I had no intentions of backing down. I would build, grind, and use every tool in my arsenal. Including those that worked in the shadows. If the Queen of the West wanted a war, she was going to get one. It was no doubt that whoever she was, she was able to pull my kind of croud, so she likely knew her way underground also.

Ditto buddy! “What? You can fly over the river as a wolf?” I shot. “Almost, I am one of the fastest wolves in Astoria,” Kent said. Not bragging but just like it was a fact. “Why don’t you transform and I hop on your back? I can hold on pretty tight.” I suggested. Kent turned to me slowly. He looked beyond angry. “How dare you!” “What?” I asked, confused. “How dare you ask an Alpha to be your mule? I have never, will never, let anyone ride my back.” He explained further.

He roared and tore out of his room down the stairs into the courtyard in front of the packhouse to the growls and snarls of fighting. Phoenix also was shaken awake from the dream who was panting and sweating in anticipation of experiencing Gael and then the siren of danger rang out bringing her out of the sexual stupor she was in. Rising out of bed and running into her closet and throwing on a sports bra and sweatpants, no shoes she barrels out of the house mindlinking Ron and Tina who were already standing out front watching as the courtyard was surrounded by warriors, Alpha Montrose’s warriors, with him out front with the biggest smirk on his face.

The western pack was known as The Vulcan Pack, and the eastern pack, was known as The Gravehill pack. But, since each place is not only dwell by wolves, they decided to make the names united. Each place, like the north, has northern pack for wolf, northern city for humankind, northern hills for witches, and northern villages for vampires, and so on. Each kind has its own name. Here mid-western due north, trailed by a river that separates the north from the west. It has a beautiful field, only exclusive for next in line heirs, either wolves, or vampires, or witches. They are all welcome here.

I took the pack and turned toward the west without looking back. The journey took three days. I traveled through terrain that grew increasingly harsh, the gentle slopes of Crimson territory giving way to jagged rocks and deep canyons. The air grew thinner, colder, and the signs of life grew scarce. No birds sang here. No animals moved in the undergrowth. The Badlands lived up to their name. On the third evening, I reached the river Mentor had described. It was wide and fast, the water black in the fading light, and on the far bank, I saw my first sign of the wolves I had come to find.

Brynn Hollis' POV The message came from a wolf I'd never seen. He collapsed at the gate, half-dead, his fur matted with blood and salt. His eyes were wild, his words slurred, but one phrase cut through the fever: "The Western Wastes are rising." We carried him to the infirmary. Solara worked her magic while I waited, pacing. "The Western Wastes?" Dax asked. "A territory beyond the mountains. Nothing lives there. Or so we thought."

She does not open it. --- "I found the third city," she says. I look at her. "In the pack's territorial records," she says. "Cross-referenced against the territory notation. There is a city in the western territories — a coastal city, smaller than Caldenveil, smaller than Vareth. The pack's records describe it as—" She pauses. "Ungovernable. That's the word they use. The stationed wolves request transfer at an extraordinary rate. The pack has sent three different administrative leads in the last decade. None of them have stayed."

West POV As we entered the lair, the Moonlight pack members rose to their feet, their faces a testament to the respect they held for us. Beta Sage, Elder Lucius, and Liam were already seated, their eyes fixed on us with interest. Alpha Lucan, a towering figure with a firm handshake, stepped forward. "Alpha West, it's great to see you again," he said, his voice booming through the room.

* Regina * In a month of staying in the Western pack, I found new friends, or rather just a friend. His name is Brent. He is a young warrior of the West. Although I am not interested in making more friends, I accepted him because he is nice to me almost every time, so I couldn't help but be his friend, too.

Chapter 39: The Western Friction The grand strategic maps of the petrified cedar war table had expanded once more, moving past the smoldering naval ports of the East and the frozen, severed mountain valleys of the Northern Territory. Beta Vance had spent the hours before dawn cleaning away the dark iron markers of the Eastern pureblood dynasties, replacing them with a complex grid of emerald-green obsidian tokens representing the dense, fortified valley-states of the Western Alliances. The Western faction was an entirely different structure from the rest of the continent; they were not ruled by single tyrants or ancient bloodline councils, but by a militaristic federation of twelve high-rank