Willowpelt Warriors Novels & Stories

I stated. "You will help me? Can you even fight?" She scrunched her nose, eyeing me up and down. "Ouch" Jia whispered. She knows my mate is insulting me, but I can't do anything about it. What she thinks? Am I a small kid? I can't fight? She doesn't know who I am. "Don't worry my people will help you we have the huge number of strong Warriors capable of taking down a huge army." Alpha said proudly.

And that’s what they turned me into. A cold heart, selfless, she’ll. That's why they all have to burn, they have to suffer for the deeds of their precious king. They have to pay. I sit back on my broom and watch as my warriors wreck havoc on a very large pack in the north of America. Hillside pack. My warriors are strong, strong enough to take on anything and anyone that comes their way. But I’m not sure if they're ready to face the precious princess Willow.

“They’re there for the witches. Doesn’t sound like it’s our problem.” “They’re on our territory, that makes it our problem.” “Seems like a good way to start a war.” “That is his plan.” “How many warriors? Do you know?” “Hang on.” Without breaking my link with Glenn, I connect with Willow again. “How many warriors does Vickus have?” I ask her. “Blaire says twenty thousand…give or take a thousand.” I don’t ask her who Blaire is. “Goddess, fuck. Okay. Glenn--”

There was a tale passed through generations, reaching the 21st Century, about a group of werewolves’ special mutation that brings out dormant abilities from a family’s genetic line. They were said to be marked and blessed by the moon goddess for they were the first of her followers. They were given the title of Legacy Wolves, keeping up their tradition and passing on their special traits through their children.

It was the first sense of seriousness he'd displayed all evening. We all waited quietly until the Queen finally decided to speak up. "The—the Western Isles have sided with...them." "With them," Natalie asked as Chris read the letter over Lissa's shoulder, "Surely you don't mean—" "That's exactly what she means," Chris blurted. "According to Tatiana, Dhampir in the Western Isles are now being enlisted to join their regiment at 12 years of age and those who cannot fight are being given positions within the kingdom without pay. Just like those íonachta fucks said."

Even if it wasn't related he hoped if he helped them then they would help him get answers. "Can I help you?" Sean, one of the Shadow Howler warriors asked as he looked at the large man. "My name is Lachlan. I'm a warrior from the Sentinel Warriors pack. I came here to see if I could offer the palace some assistance." Lachlan replied. Sean was a warrior, but next to Lachlan, he felt small. He saw the tattoo of bird wings making a circle around a wolf's head. All the warriors of the Sentinel Warriors had the same tattoo.

" Willow said worriedly. "Caspian's the God of War, the head of the Five War Gods of Diatoran! I'm sure he'll defeat all our enemies!" Zoey declared. "I hope so. I hope he comes back victorious. Also, I wonder where my father is right now," Willow said as she abruptly thought about Carl. She didn't care about the rest of the Stewarts. Carl was the only one she cared about. "You can call to check in on him," Zoey suggested.

Warriors parted, panting. "Review," I began. "Theon, aggression balances defense. Jasper, adaptability shines. Ava, speed enhances strategy. Rachel, technique impresses. Lewis, your technique improves too." Theon nodded. "Malachi's pack won't know what hits them." Jasper's eyes gleamed. "We'll bring Victoria and Caleb home." Ava's determination hardened. "Together." Rachel nodded. "As one pack." Our bond strengthened, forged in sweat. Lewis appeared, clapping his hands. “Well, I guess that's what you guys are made of. Who wants to see me fight Nathan again?”

“Did you learn anything of use?” “Greyhide Canyon have allied with Sable Stalker and Bloodpelt Prowler,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. She wouldn’t believe me; she never did anymore. “They plan to attack Winterpaw Warrior in two months, on the night of the blood moon.” “Well,” she said, shuffling papers without looking at them, “that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” “How can that be construed as a good thing?” “None of those packs are our allies, sweetheart. They’ll all weaken each other.”

Warriors stood at attention as they passed, blood-streaked and battle-weary, but their gazes followed Kael and Aria with unwavering loyalty. Inside the command tent, the remaining Council members waited—Elder Rowan, the ancient wolf of Wintermere, his silver hair braided with wolfbone; Velric, Alpha of the Eastern Claw, his arm in a sling and face set in stone; and two others, their eyes shadowed with suspicion and uncertainty. Kael didn’t wait for formalities. He stepped into the center and placed a bloodied fang on the war table—a fang torn from the Crimson Fang leader’s second-in-command, a brutal warrior named Maras who had nearly broken through their rear lines.