Wild A Book Novels & Stories

Hello all, as book one has come to an end, or what I’d consider an okay path for a new book.. I’ve decided to continue the series, or at least begin a second book following this one. The what ifs and mysteries will continue, for now. Will you follow the journey of Ashani, and Clara in the next book? What else has Wildwood unleashed, or what has it been covering up? There’s more twists and new dangers ahead. Let me know your thoughts on Night at Wildwood, and what you think will surface next? Any thoughts or wants to follow a certain character and dive into them?

I was running out of time and I was beginning to grow frustrated. "When you are forced to pick between two evils, you pick NEITHER of them and choose a third option instead". Aria was so carefree the way she said it, as she hovered close to a bookshelf. "A third option, what do you mean?" I inquired. I could see Aria pull out a book from the shelf and place it gently on the table. It was very heavy, considering how little she was but she managed by herself. "What book is this?" "It is the codex of 'GAIASANIA AND GAIAMANIA' - a compilation of the Annual records of the 14 werewolf kingdoms". Aria disclosed to me, as she magically flicked the pages of the book.

“Nirvana, you’re here.” I turned around and saw Dylan. “Hey. How long you’ve been here.” We hugged each other. “Yesterday. Congrats, by the way. I’m happy for both of you.” “Thanks. So what are you doing here?” “Apparently, Zarah forgot to mention the Alpha King had vast collections of books, and I read some of her Grimoire and other Wiccan books.” “What’s Grimoire? Wiccan?” “Book of spells, Book of magic. Wiccans are people who believe in supernatural magic,” Aira answered. She looked like a girl you just wanted to sit with on the couch, had some margaritas, and talked all day.

’ as she dove in for another search. Taking the book, he realised it was a thinnish volume, in mint condition, and had Diamanda’s own picture on the back. Good God, it was her latest novel! One he hadn’t read but was dying to. It wasn’t even due out till next month. He studied the title - Watching Me, Watching You - then carefully flipped it open.

Kira led the way, her fur illuminated by the moonlight, and I chased after her, matching her pace. The thrill of the chase, the rhythmic pounding of our paws against the earth, and the crisp night air against our fur created an enchanting symphony of sensations. We darted through the moonlit glades, our wolves revelling in the untamed beauty of the wilderness. The forest embraced us with its ancient whispers, and for a brief moment, the worries of the world seemed to fade away.

She asks she with crossed arms I guess she's right. "My name is Hanna" I decide to tell her as I give in "Hanna Wilder" she says my name which causes my body to feel tingly all over Whoa. What was that? I stand up straighter to try and hide this feeling. My ex-boyfriend never made me feel like that. "Pretty name" she says as she tucks a strand of her black hair behind her ear Her eyes never stray away from mine as she does so.

The next thing I know, I hear a strong dark voice in my head. ‘Hello Zach, I am Kato, your wolf.’ ‘Hello Kato, I am happy to meet you finally. I really need your help.’ ‘I know. We need to find Zara and Sierra.’ ‘Sierra?’ ‘Yes, Zara’s wolf and my sister.’ Wow, Kato's sister is Zara’s wolf. ‘So I am right. She is alive.’ ‘She is. Now, let’s shift so you can rest before we go.’

The aftermath is nothing like Aquina expects. The agony and euphoria of the claiming leave her boneless, skin hypersensitized, every breath scraping raw at the hollow of her throat. Where instinct should have demanded retreat—shame, panic, the urge to barricade herself behind a wall of ice and silence—she finds only quiet. A strange, luminous quiet, like the minute after a lightning strike, when the world holds its breath and nothing dares to move.

Focus, Aurela. I moved on to books about wolves—the bond, the instincts, how to build a connection with your inner wolf. That part hit something deeper. I’d been caging mine all along. Not out of fear, but neglect. I’d never even tried to reach her. Never given her a name. Never invited her in. A flicker of guilt sparked inside me. So I closed the book and sat still. Focused. A name was at the tip of my tongue... Zira, I called quietly.

The air felt heavier now, as if it carried more than moisture—something invisible and watching. His backpack lay half-buried in the sand, soaked but intact. He fished out the leather-bound notebook he’d carried everywhere since he was thirteen—the one with the stories, the nightmares, the dreams he could never fully explain. Inside were drawings of forests that bled, oceans that whispered, and a woman with hollow eyes and hands covered in roots. He had drawn her before he ever heard of WildWood. Before he heard the name Emily. Before he knew that she was family.