Winter Spirit Novels & Stories

But when I look back I don’t regret it even for a bit, because no matter what the consequences may be but I’m glad that I got to meet him on this journey. Now when I’m looking at the sight which is right there in front of my eyes, I feel like I’m in no hurry to run or to escape because that would mean that I am ready to move on but if you ask me I guess i don’t mind reliving it all again like some Netflix series that I don’t want to end. And with no rush to escape and no place to escape to I think I would be more than happy to take a trip back to memory lane. Winter has always been my favourite time of the year due to several reasons but mainly because of its ability to be so dark and yet so

VANESSA'S POV The first snow fell in earnest, blanketing the territory in a deep, silencing white. The world narrowed to the warmth of the lodge, the scent of stew simmering over the hearth, and the soft murmur of the pack gathered inside. The frantic energy of growth and rebuilding had given way to the quiet introspection of winter. It was a time for stories, for memory, for taking stock.

I turned my body slightly, putting one of my legs up on the bench, so that I could look at him better without having to break my neck. “No,” he answered, looking down at the book in his hands. “I’m from the Kingdom of Vinter.” “What’s it like there?” A smile bloomed on his lips as he dreamed himself back to his place of origin. “It’s incredibly beautiful,” he started, while his gaze was locked on the leatherbound book in his hands. “It’s cold, but not freezing,” he explained. “There’s snow all year long, but everything just looks so beautiful like that, frozen in time.” Everything about him screamed love and longing. “The King of Winter is old,” he raised his eyebrows slightly. “He’s the kin

-CHRIS- It's snowing in Salzburg. Through the frosty window, people in heavy wool coats could be seen walking beneath the soft snowfall falling incessantly, covering the ground with a white blanket. Although it was a chilly winter night, the inviting Austrian restaurant exuded warmth. The atmosphere was cozy, blending old wooden beams with contemporary furniture pieces.

"I have always thought that winter was a majestic season. Everything becomes white and the ground sparkles in the sun like it's made of pure crystal." He is staring into the fire, the glass of wine in his hand. "Winter is when everything dies. There are no leaves on the trees, the warm air has disappeared and the animals seem to run for cover. Winter leaves everything dead." "But…" I twiddle my thumbs awkwardly. "But everything grows back in the springtime. This is the circle of life."

Alex stepped out of her apartment with a red scarf around her neck. The breeze blew past her face and she stood for a while before moving. It was Christmas and the winter air was at its peak. It's not a new thing. Winter on Christmas can freeze you to death. The street was so Christmastic, every corner was decorated with Christmas lights. And children singing voices were heard. Typical Christmas in Greywave, it's always like this every year. GreyWave and her people don't joke with Christmas because they believe so much that the Savior of the world was born during that period which is absolutely the truth to the Christian Brethren.

Winter was Celine’s favorite time of the year. It was the season when people were kind, the landscape was covered in snow, and there was a stillness that spoke of staying warm at home with family. Winter was when the Beaumont family usually closed the equestrian center, and everyone came home from wherever they were to celebrate the holidays.

After I was done with her, I was making my way back to my apartment when my wolf nudged me. ‘Can we please go out for a run? I feel like I've been trapped forever!’ That's my wolf, Snow. Honestly I feel bad for her. But it's not really my fault I have to roam around disguised as a human. We know what can happen if we slip up. It is very easy for my wolf to cover up her scent though, one of the perks of being a White Wolf. After thinking about it, I decided to let her out for a few hours.

My chest ached with longing I couldn’t name, and yet… there was a clarity now, a certainty that I had never felt before. My path was set. My legacy was calling. And in the shadows of the coming storm, he would be waiting. I rose, pulling on my cloak and the sword at my side. Crescent Crimson would be my sanctuary, my training ground, my forge. And soon… Winter Hollow would learn that the returned Wolfe had come back and ready to fight for what belongs to her.

Morwen taught the history, Seren told the stories, Iriel and Kaelen taught the anchor ability. A new student arrived in the depths of winter. She was young, perhaps twelve, with pale hair and grey eyes that seemed to hold the winter sky. Her name was Winter, and she had traveled from the far north, where the gold flowers grew in the ice. "The watcher called me," Winter said, standing at the garden gate. "It said there was work for me here." Morwen studied her. There was something familiar about Winter—not in her face, but in the quality of her attention. The same intensity Morwen had seen in Clara, in Seren, in all the witnesses who had come to the garden afraid and stayed anyway.