روايات وقصص ضمن Withered Foxy

Xabat snorted and released the condensed Tai Chi Power in her hands, morphing them into two golden foxes that bellowed like thunder, hurtling straight toward James. Confronted with the mystical force, James remained motionless. As the two golden foxes charged forward, he bore an ominous grin. Then, something strange occurred. Upon reaching James, the two golden foxes abruptly halted and their roars silenced. Their bodies underwent a rapid reduction, transforming into two small nine-tailed foxes.

Hours of chanting, each of us holding Roxie’s charred hand or foot as Olaf mixed herbs and guided our voiced was exhausting. My head dropped, fighting waves of tiredness after days of running from Foxton. Olaf and Felix had battled too, their red wounds matching Roxie’s battered form.

How was it even possible something that large would fit into her narrow channel? Wait. Her channel? Unbidden the image of Mike Volka flashed in her brain, more moisture soaked her panties and heat crept up her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She put hands over Mischief's eyes. "Don't look, kitty." Jamie took a sip of her soft drink, a bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly as she turned the page. "Shape shifters mate for life, protecting their mates to the death. They have superhuman strength and senses. In human form they are distinguished by longer hair than usual on their heads, thick eyebrows and lean muscular bodies."

A crow made of shimmering light burst forth, its wings flaring wide as it took to the sky. “Find Harold,” Dale commanded. “Tell him everything!” The crow let out a piercing cry and disappeared into the canopy. We ran until our legs could carry us no further, finally coming to a rocky outcrop that loomed before us like a dead end. Dale cursed under his breath, pulling out yet another card. “These aren’t ordinary foxes,” he said hurriedly, his eyes scanning the area for an escape. “They’re part of a clan that’s been at war with the wolves for centuries.”

Author's notes Jaxon is definitely going to turn to a whole different person after he visits the Wendigos. To clear up the confusion, Wendigos in my own context are just like wolves but slightly different in personalities. They suck blood like vampires, cast spells, seduce like the sirens, shift like wolves and manipulates voices in their victim... we're just starting the ride, please vote for my book❤️

Vincent growled at them, “Back off.” But the largest fox, with black fur and fiery eyes, let out a low growl. Its voice was rough, each word appearing to grind out from between its teeth. “We don’t hunt shadows. We hunt prey that lingers…like a bride who survives but does not truly live.” Camela felt her knees weaken beneath her. “They’re saying I’m not enough.” Vincent caught her quickly, baring his teeth at the foxes. “She’s mine. Whether she’s living or just surviving, she is mine.”

Theo rolled his eyes, lighting the joint he'd rolled, taking a deep inhale and handed it to me, smiling when I took it. He exhaled. "Foxen have a natural pheromone in their auras when partly shifted." He explained turning to Lisa while I took an inhale then held it up for Xavier. "Why?" She asked, raising a brow as she took the joint from Dane. I giggled, shrugging. "Who wants to fight me when I'm so cute?" I twitched my ears at her. She choked for a moment laughing. "You're an idiot." I stuck my tongue at her. "And you're my friend, like chooses like."

“I was never one of you. You chained me. You cast me out. You called me weak. Now look at me. Who is weak now?” He choked, blood bubbling on his lips. “Lyran… will come back…” I snapped his neck and tossed him aside. “Then he will come back to meet you all in ash.” But I don't he will witness, seeing you all by then , cause he will be no more. The Wereboar charged past me, slamming through a group of mothers shielding their children. Blood sprayed like paint . The Werefox set another house on fire, her claws sparking against dry wood. Flames spread fast like wild smoke, choking the sky continuously.

On college decision day, everyone at Westcreek High was talking about valedictorian Shawn Jamison. The hopeless romantic had turned down Velmont University for a less prestigious college that offered a huge scholarship! The school administrators were so furious that they immediately tore down the poster celebrating Shawn as the school's top student. Shawn didn't care. He was busy working part-time at a local club, hauling cases of beer. Once he finished his shift that night, his wages and scholarship money would be enough to cover college tuition for him and his girlfriend, Jenna Sharp. A moment later, several familiar voices came from behind him. They sounded like Jenna's closest friend

But everything changed on my 18th birthday. When the crowd had dispersed and the party had wound down, I had gathered my courage, tugged on his sleeve, and dragged him into the back garden. To steady my nerves, I sneaked some wine and looked up at him with hazy, drunken eyes. Then, I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck. I would never forget the shift in him that night. His usual gentle, refined demeanor vanished, replaced by the ferocity of a wolf ready to tear me apart.