Wolf Fiction Novels & Stories

I swallowed, "you're my last resort coz you have information that I don't. I honestly don't know what to do. Please help clarify somethings to me." 'you have a minute before they realize you called.' "there has been Wolf attacks here.. I don't know if it's them... But I had a connection with one.. Strangely the same connection I have with a girl.. She's human... I don't know what this means. Can one person have two mates?" 'if there has been wolf attacks why are you still even there?' I swallowed, shit! I should have known he will ask this. "because they happened before I got here. So they had nothing to do with me."

I lashed out, scratching down the face of one of the wolves as they tried to move in for my throat, sending them sprawling back into the dirt with a yowl of pain. I ducked to the side of the darkest wolf, narrowly missing their teeth and slashing my nails along their side, ripping the skin open. The scent of blood permeated the air, thickening it and encouraging my wolf further. Adrenaline rushed through my body, and my vision seemed to clear and slow, zooming in as the smallest wolf slipped from the group. A deep growl ripped from my throat as the female rogue made their way for the house quickly, limping from a bite I had managed to land on their front leg.

I gave him a questioning look and he spoke," wolf blood in large quantities is like poison for vampires. Doing something like that is suicide." I winced at the thought. Nothing had ever prepared me for exactly how horrid things dealing with fights could be. They always spoke, but most had never experienced it. Harvest Moon was known for being peaceful, and having had very few battles during it's history. Other than wiping out and enslaving my species apparently. "She's hungry," Julian spoke up, breaking me from my thoughts. He gave my hip a small squeeze and I squirmed. "Have you eaten yet?" Gerwulf laughed," are you trying to be nice and ask me to have dinner with you?"

Mom, Dad she called out slowly to them moving close in their direction. By the time she found them they had already transformed into werewolves it's wasn't easy, controlling them as wolves, to make them go under the basement, she tried all she could but failed then she said to them, "I don't care how aggressive you are towards me, you know you can't hurt me because I am also a young wolf, just like you are a werewolf from one pack, I can control you, as been a young she-wolf, I will do anything to make sure you don't cause any harm to others."

AUTHOR'S P.O.V. In the shrouded shadows of the night, a formidable black wolf, with fur as dark as the abyss, prowled stealthily through the underbrush. Its eyes, glowing with a fierce, infernal red, were fixed intently on the men stationed outside the building. Despite its lupine form, it exuded a commanding presence over the armed men in their human guise. The wolf, driven by a singular purpose, was here for one individual – a target it was resolutely determined to eliminate this very night.

The pages are yellowed and fragile, ink faded but still readable in jagged, hurried script. The writing feels raw and desperate. Like someone’s last attempt to bear witness. They left us behind. The words leap out at me, underlined and scrawled with urgency. Around the edges, there are frantic sketches. Wolves caught between forms, faces twisted in pain or rage. One figure stands out. A wolf with antlers sprouting from its skull, just like the stories Ilsa told me about the Ash-born. The antlers look gnarled and worn, but there’s a wild grace in their shape.

The fur that adorned my wolf's form was not just any color—it was a pure, pristine white. Whispers rippled through the pack, carried on the wind like a sacred secret revealed. The legend of the white wolf echoed in their murmurs, a tale passed down through generations. It was said that a white wolf possessed a unique power, a healing ability that transcended the bounds of ordinary werewolves. They were believed to be chosen, destined to bring solace and aid to those in need.

It was a wolf, but it was unlike any wolf Fionn had ever seen. The wolf was black as night, its eyes glowing like embers. Its fur crackled with electricity, and its presence filled Fionn with dread. He knew that this was the source of the storm, the very power that had threatened to destroy the pack. "Who are you?" Fionn asked, his voice trembling. "I am the Dark Wolf, the bringer of storms," the creature replied. "I have come to destroy your pack, to wipe it from the face of the earth." Fionn knew that he had to stop the Dark Wolf, but he felt powerless against such a fearsome foe. "Why do you want to destroy us?" Fionn asked. "What have we done to deserve such a fate?" The Dark Wolf's eyes

he was in charge. Sergeant Hakon Ragnar decided he was best suited to command the claws. So far I have had no problems with Kjel or Henk. Only Sven and Stribjörn grunted. Ragna stopped walking and looked up at the sky. The red sun began to set in the west. The sky on the far horizon was blood red, and the red light passing through the clouds made the mountain look strangely menacing. Ragnar seemed to be a haven for trolls and other terrifying beasts. There has been a lot of talk lately about a creature called the Wulfen. No one knew who started the horror story, but if the stories of amputation and gruesome death are true, the wolf was a truly terrifying animal. Ragnar suspected that the in

It lived with me, slept beside me, and sometimes even walked in my reflection. I opened the book I had carried all the way up here… a novel about wolves. Not the kind my father swore were nothing but beasts to be hunted, but the kind that lived in fairy tales and half-remembered myths. Wolves that shifted into men, men who wore hunger in their eyes and shadows in their bones. I traced the words with my fingers, the firelight flickering across the page. How ridiculous, I thought, to romanticize monsters. To imagine them as more than killers. And yet… something in me wanted to believe.