Novelas y relatos de White Cat

Astrid turns to behold Blaze's other form, Lucian the Tiger. The white tiger, with his alabaster fur adorned by black stripes and striking blue eyes, commanded awe and reverence. His towering presence, standing at a staggering shoulder height of 9 feet (274.32 cm), marked him as an apex predator of unparalleled might. In the moonlight, its ghostly white coat blended seamlessly with the surrounding darkness, giving him an elusive and enigmatic aura. The piercing blue eyes seemed to radiate an otherworldly intelligence, evoking an uncanny sense of foreboding. Surprisingly, Astrid found herself unafraid in the presence of this majestic creature.

Even among some of the biggest wolves, I stand out. My wolf is large. Larger than normal and even more so that I am a female. My fur is a cascade of winter white, rare and beautiful, with thick and lustrous strands that look like it is flowing under water whenever I move. Even without anyone telling me, I know it is unique. I have heard of pure black wolves, red timber wolves, white wolves with black spots. Never a pure white like myself. Winter white. That is where our name comes from, The Winter Wolf Coalition.

She slowly removed the trousers from her legs and saw white hair growing there too. All this she saw with her own eyes for the very first time, and she was unable to understand it because it was not ordinary hair but wolf hair. It was the color of silver or snowflakes or even a clear night in winter. Just that no one had seen anything like it before, it was not black or brown or grey nor blonde; it wasn't a pale blonde or a dark brown, nor a light blond either, but pure white hair - so pure.

“Okay, okay. You’re a female, and you don’t have rabies. I’ll not give you a check-up in the future, okay? By the way, pet cats have to bathe every day. Do you want me to give you a bath?” “Meow! Meow!” “No? Then, I’ll just throw you into the washing machine.” “...” In the end, Old Whitey jumped onto Alex again and quickly shuffled into the collar of his clothes. Only then did Alex realize that this cat could become even smaller, as small as the size of his palm. As it was winter now, Alex was wearing a coat as well. Old Whitey hid inside his coat, so no one could see it at all. Click!

Her father, on the other hand, stood stiffly, arms crossed, his expression one of thinly veiled disappointment. As the final crack of bone echoed through the silent woods, her transformation was complete. What stood before me wasn’t what I had expected. Her wolf emerged, small and frail, but unlike anything I had ever seen. Its fur was a pristine white, pure and unblemished, glowing faintly in the moonlight as if it had absorbed the very essence of the night. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. A white wolf. I had read about them in ancient texts, tales of rare wolves born with coats like snow, often regarded as omens or symbols of untold power.

I contested, strongly. Such responsibility, the fate of two kinds in my hands... I didn’t know how to feel. Lazarus tilted his head, studying me. “You could be right but call it a feeling.” He jested. “Really?” I glowered; sarcasm laced on my tongue. “I’m supposed to trust your intuition on this.” He chuckled, amusement swirling within his orbs. “Ma Cherie, I’ve seen alot of wolves and Melody is unique. White wolves are a rarity; her fur reflects light blue under bright lighting.”

I looked up. She was perched above me, balanced on a dead limb ten feet off the ground, all muscle and sinew and impossible silence. The eyes were yellow and so wide open they looked cracked. Her fur was white—pure, snow-shock white, with not a speck of brown or gray. It was the rarest thing I’d ever seen. Even my father, old as he was, had only ever known one in his lifetime. She opened her mouth and showed me the daggers, teeth so clean they shone. The blood wasn’t hers.

I asked him, smirking. “Thats how I want everyone who has ever bullied me to feel. I want them to look upon my beautiful white wolf and tremble in fear.” I told him, recalling how Jarvis had white furs when I looked at my paws. I knew mom and Ariana has grey wolves. It’ll be amazing when they find out that mine is pure and absolutely stunning. I have a rare wolf, it’s called the wolf of the moon goddess, and she is so beautiful.

Ronan The moment she shifted, I forgot how to breathe. I’d seen wolves my entire life. Hundreds of them. Every color the gods had bothered to invent—silver, ash, bone, dusk, storm. I’d even seen white wolves before. But nothing like this. She stood before me solid and seamless, her fur so purely white it almost hurt to look at—no cream, no yellow, no shadow of warmth anywhere in it. Just moon-bright, snow-born white, like she’d been carved from winter itself instead of born into it.

ERIN The silence was absolute. I stood in the wreckage of the eastern gate, my white fur matted with blood that wasn't mine, my chest heaving with exertion I had never known a body could feel. Around me, the battle had simply stopped—not wound down, not gradually concluded, but frozen in place as every wolf on both sides processed what they had just witnessed. A white wolf. Pure white, from muzzle to tail, without the silver markings or grey undertones that touched every other pale-coated wolf in living memory. The color existed only in old stories, in legends whispered around fires, in accounts of Moonblood carriers at the height of their power.