White Bird A Wonder Story Novels & Stories

Gabe submerged his body fully into the pond. Holding his breath, he hoped the water would not take away his new hair color. The old widow, Mrs. Baker, changed the color of his hair to brown and even gave him a cut. Gratefully, he had walked out of her house looking a new man. Now if he could just keep away from large crowds, all would be well in his world. At least for a few months. He prayed things would get back to normal soon after that.

Pawn Clara got confused. "Pecan Zorro yew," Bishop Eloise repeated the bird's name with a laugh. Pawn Clara went a little closer and started looking carefully at the bird. It was a white bird about 8 feet tall, with red eyes that looked like two red pearls on white clouds. It was very beautiful to look at. Her heart skipped a beat when it turned to her and flapped its wings. The feathers were as soft as down, and so shiny she could see her reflection in them.

Her voice was like angels singing. “Little Dove,” Adrien said as she started to walk away, her head snapped around to face us. “My father used to call me White Dove, until he banished us.” She muttered, more to herself than to us. “What?” I said. Banished? What was she talking about? “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I sometimes forget to use my inside voice, but it brought back a memory. Well, a dream." “What is your name?” I asked her as I saw a woman walk out. She gasped when she saw who we were.

My eyes could see the specks of dust falling freely to the ground. "Wow! They look so beautiful. It's almost as if they danced with each other." And suddenly, I was in all fours. My nose was no longer a nose, but a snout. Four delicate white paws stood instead of my arms and legs. I could hear the sound of a bird. My eyes diverting towards the heavens looking for that bird. That cute mischievous bird I always dreamed of. There she was, a beautiful blue Phoenix, gracefully flying through the air above me.

Did she have ancestors from there several generations back that she just didn't know about? And most of all, what did any of it have to do with the very strange book she'd found, Legends of the Werewolf. The binding was ancient leather, now frayed in many places, and the lettering in gold. The other night when she finally opened it she expected to read about the history of werewolves and how that history came to be. Instead, to her shock, the stories were about shapeshifters, people who could change into the shape of a wolf. Whole villages apparently had that ability and when danger presented itself they shifted into their wolf shape, gathered as a pack and disappeared.

She couldn't live another day in that house. A twig snapped under her feet and she stumbled, then leaned against a tree, trying to catch her breath. She unwrapped the blanket and stuffed it into her bag, putting the bag over her neck. Then she began to morph slowly but surely, until where a scared lady stood mere seconds ago, a beautiful white wolf stood now. She shook the moisture off her fur and continued running.

Alice hid a laugh, laying Millie down and tucking her between the sheets, with Hoppy by her side “Want to do the honors?” “Okay, okay…” he snorted, and Alice had to admit that it was a funny image to see that huge man, still with broad shoulders and a firm appearance despite everything that had happened to him, sitting in his wheelchair with the colorful book in her hands and an upset expression on her face “Once upon a time, there was a mother duck who was very excited about the birth of her five little eggs. One after another, they were born, cute little yellow ducklings that said quack quack...”

Pawn Clara got confused. "Pecan Zorro yew," Bishop Eloise repeated the bird's name with a laugh. Pawn Clara went a little closer and started looking carefully at the bird. It was a white bird about 8 feet tall, with red eyes that looked like two red pearls on white clouds. It was very beautiful to look at. Her heart skipped a beat when it turned to her and flapped its wings. The feathers were as soft as down, and so shiny she could see her reflection in them.

He felt a sense of anticipation as he prepared to share their winter legend. “Thank you all for joining us today,” he began, his voice carrying across the crowd. “We’re excited to share the story of the winter spirit and the hidden pond. This legend was inspired by our love for the Whispering Woods and the importance of kindness.” As he read, the audience listened intently, captivated by the tale of the winter spirit who granted wishes to those with pure hearts. Jace felt the magic of the story enveloping them, and he could see the wonder in the eyes of the children.

And as always in the shapeshifting world, he found something stranger still. A raven appeared out of nowhere next to him, staring directly into his eyes for a second before diving down toward the ground, as if asking him to follow. Dean had no clue what he was supposed to do, but he willed himself to follow the bird. Unexpectedly, he started gliding after the bird. It led him through the trees and the forest for a while. Dean found that he had no problem navigating through the obstacles as the bird did. They flew past what had to be the most beautiful stream he had ever seen in his entire life. The water flowed gently out of the mouth of a werewolf’s stone sculpture carved into the side of a