Romans & histoires White Bird

My saviour. My lifeline. “It’s okay, Little Bird…” His voice finds me through the chaos I find myself lost in. “He won’t hurt you.” But he is… By taking you away from me and putting his hands on me… “Nathanial….” Andrea says his name in a clipped manner. “What is the meaning of this? Take your hands off Birdene this instant.” Spinning us around to face Andrea, a look of helplessness, for me, gleams in her hazel eyes that almost look identical to mine.

In this enchanted garden, I must have finally entered the realm of the Legendary Moonbird. A flock of peacocks stood before me. Their slender necks were crowned by crests of feathers, and their fan-like tails displayed a brilliant array of sapphire blues and emerald greens. But how could I discern the Moonbird among them? Which one was it? Then I spotted it. Nestled among the flock were two peacocks as white as snow, their eyes blue like the heavens. What truly set them apart was the pattern of the Nazar Boncuğu woven into their feathers.

I had to get to the bottom of this. “White Wolf, Alpha? Is it possible that it was the white wolf?’ I remember the tales that go on about the last white wolf and the special gift she has. Is that wolf even real? Or just a part of those fables. I sighed, knowing I wasn’t getting anywhere like this. I needed some time alone to think. “Thank you Jacob, you may leave now,” I dismissed him.

she said with a chuckle. I fetch some bird's food from the basket that the old woman was holding and feed the bird. I don't know the name of the bird but it has a mix of colors of black, pink, and white that form the shape of a moon on its back. It was the most beautiful color combination I have ever seen. I have never seen a bird with such color before. "What type of bird is this?" I asked, trailing my finger on the moon shape on its back. "Her name is Tricia, she's one of the oldest birds in the world. Her type is rare, she's one thousand years old." I was shocked when I heard her.

But just as she was about to reach the radiant light, a sudden, brighter light caught the corner of her eye. She gazed towards the blinding light, her eyes struggling to adjust to its intense brilliance. Through squinted eyes, she finally discerned a formidable presence. It was a bird, unlike any she had ever seen before. This majestic creature resembled an eagle in size, adorned with vibrant scarlet and gold plumage that blazed as fiercely as the sun in all its glory. Visenya couldn't resist being drawn towards it, as its warmth enveloped her like a comforting blanket of belonging and hope. The wolf called out to her, urging her not to return and enticing her with the promise of eternal com

Standing, I make my way to the office that is on board the plane and shut the door behind me, sitting down, I pick up the satellite phone and call my father. "Dimitri." Came the gruff response. "What's happening?" "We have her," I said, I heard the relief in my voice. "Is it her?" He asked, double-checking what I had said. "Yes, it's the White Dove, she is coming home," I said, a sigh of relief left my father’s lips. "How is she?" "Not good." I sigh. "What do you mean, not good?" He asked, and I noted the change in his voice.

It's none of his business. Before I could open my mouth to answer him, a chippy sound coming from neither Blake and I is heard. Turning my head to the left, I see the most exquisite being ever! The different colors of white, pink, yellow, black, orange, dark blue and others which blend in together so perfectly are all on the bird. It has a short multicolored tail and a long orange beak that compliments its black eyes with brown circles on them.

A bird's shriek, full of savage, murderous malice, tore through the sky. In the sea of fire, a strange bird the size of a pheasant soared up the sky looming with dark clouds. The bird looked like a Red-crowned Crane, but had only one leg. Its body was blue with red speckles, its beak white and its crest flaming crimson like blood.

I muttered to myself, trying to fight the fear that was slowly creeping into my heart. As I drove, a shrill chirping caught my attention. Sticking my head outside the window of my car to check, I noticed a flock of birds following my car. Their cries seemed almost frantic, as if they were trying to warn me of something and it was strange to see white birds at this time of the night.

The fur that adorned my wolf's form was not just any color—it was a pure, pristine white. Whispers rippled through the pack, carried on the wind like a sacred secret revealed. The legend of the white wolf echoed in their murmurs, a tale passed down through generations. It was said that a white wolf possessed a unique power, a healing ability that transcended the bounds of ordinary werewolves. They were believed to be chosen, destined to bring solace and aid to those in need.