Winter Soldier Zola Novels & Stories

“You can call me Gavril. Gavrill Hawthorne.” “Hawthorne? I thought Nolan's last name was Smith?” “He took his mom’s last name.” I nodded my head in realisation. I didn’t even know that. “My name is Winter. Winter Cooper.” He nodded. “You want some bread” he offered. I took the bread and bolted to my room to video-call my best friend, Sicily, to inform her about what had happened. My suitcase lay on my bed as I had begun to repack to go back home.

Then they went back to Snow and pricked his tiny finger; he whined instead of crying from pain. The blood from all three of us mixed together in the bowl, and the most amazing thing happened because the bowl actually changed color, shifting from silver to gold and glowing softly. A smile bloomed across the faces of the elders, and I saw Marcus and Elena both smiling too. The elders raised Snow up high above their heads so that everyone in the entire arena could see him clearly. "His name shall be Zane Snow Winter," the head elder announced in a voice that carried across the entire arena, "the son of Jude Winter and Rosie Elsa Winter, the fifty-fourth young alpha of Winter's pack!"

The place smells of rich cigars mixed with expensive cologne. And no, the atmosphere isn't welcoming because both of them look at me in silence and disappointment. I believe the news playing on the TV has everything to do with that. Zara Winterborn is alive with a secret child. Mystery father unknown. At least they blurred Lila’s face. Can't have more creeps knowing who she is. He picks up his glass of whiskey and takes a sip before finally deciding to break the silence. “What is this I hear about the dead Winterborn girl coming back to life? And with a child.”

The world around me seemed hushed, draped in an ethereal shroud of silence that only winter's arrival could bestow. My senses were tantalized by the aroma that hung heavy in the crisp air—a symphony of snowflakes, each one a delicate note contributing to the grand composition of nature's breath. This was a fragrance unique to winter, a blend of cold purity and untamed wilderness. The snow-laden ground and the towering sentinels of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the world to awaken from its frozen slumber.

In the painting, the skies were decorated with stars and a very young Zoe was sleeping in the tent in summer. She stared at it for a long time, only leaving the place when her eyes were tired. The snow was falling heavily by the time she came outside. Some of them fell on her eyelids akin to white feathers in the dark of night. One of the winter jasmines in the corner bent from the weight of the snow piled on top of it. Its yellow petals looked more tender and lovely in sharp relief against the white of the snow. … After Zoe left, Mason returned to the private room and ate dinner listlessly. Ava came in by the time he was about to finish. She gave him a report, “This is Dr. Norbert’s latest

The underground bunker, hidden from satellites and maps alike. “This is it,” he said as he shut off the engine. “From here, we shift.” They moved with practiced ease. Thick winter coats were exchanged for lighter base layers better suited for shifting. Bags were re-packed, fastened tight so they could be carried by their wolves. Celeste stood at the edge of the vehicle, her breath visible in the icy air. The snow was coming down harder now, thick and fast, sticking to lashes and hair within seconds. The cold crept through her clothes, but the anticipation warmed her blood.

Moon asked confused. "Weren't wolves created without humans? I can't imagine how Gaia might have turned out had the human half hadn't been released." Moon commented. "You must understand the importance of the part we all play in this. I have dealt with Chad and his Council long before I was your alpha. Winter was an old wolf, and I was his Luna. Chad’s wolves are different beasts in their own rights, they need to be reguarded with respect, or whoever the Council faces in physical or psychological combat will fall every time." she paused to sip her coffee.

The steam from the hot spring swirled in the air as Miles leaned against the edge of the pool, letting the warm water soothe his tense nerves. Belinda sat in her wheelchair, slowly wheeled closer to the pool by Vivian. There was a satisfied smile on her face. “This place is well-chosen. It’s much better than being at home.” Miles smiled, brushing the damp strands of hair from her face. “Mom, your legs are fine now. Don’t soak for too long.”