Wolf Fiction Novels & Stories

Wow, I just close my eyes waiting for the pain to hit me, but nothing happens. I open my eyes slowly, was it just an illusion? But I flinch when I see a big wolf on top of the woman who was threatening me. The wolf is completely white, so gorgeous, I get lost as I watch it swiftly fighting her off. Did the wolf just save my life? In one move, the wolf bites off the woman’s head and throws it away.

She would tell you all the alarming details, like the wolves' collective baths and about my captor who binds me with chains. I can almost hear your voice in my head telling me how creative I am and that I should write stories for the other Sisters. But I'm not creative. Even if I created a fantastic universe with wolves that dress like men, it would never come close to the singularity that I am experiencing. For a moment I remember the armor-wearing wolves I saw in the old books. I didn't read the texts. I was just browsing and found the paintings attractive. I should have read it, I chide myself.

I will kill them. But suddenly, something explodes from the underbrush. It isn’t Frank. It is a huge white wolf with blue eyes and boy does it look pissed. It knocks me out of the way. I notice how its fur reflects the moonlight. I have never seen this wolf before and I can’t look away. He is beautiful. The White Wolf bares his fangs as he advances on the three wolves. They whine and scatter. Their tails are low, ears pressed back, as they slink into the shadows like a scolded puppy.

“Why couldn’t you fair plant a cultivate? Take up knitting?” The picture of a bunch of macho guys accumulated around the sitting room clicking their needles with a roll of yarn at their feet nearly made him giggle out boisterous. “Wolves are pack creatures, and so are werewolves. The pack works together. Lives together. They do everything together. A wolf without a pack won’t final exceptionally long, and those that do are a few difficult ass mother fuckers.” “You’re not telling me anything I don’t as of now know.”

“And don’t try to lie to me, I’ll confirm whatever you say from Chloe. And if you still choose not to tell me, I’m sure Chloe would be ready to spill everything.” I let out a frustrated sigh. Lying to him would make things only worse. Maybe I just needed to come clean. “Okay, but promise me you won’t get mad.” “I won’t get mad.” I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t get mad. I just knew that he only said it because he wanted me to open up to him. “Okay.” A defeated sigh escaped my lips. “I’m listening.” He stared at me intensely. I closed my eyes and blurted out the words. “I don’t have a wolf. I still haven’t discovered my wolf yet.”

Books lay open across the desk, and papers covered almost every available surface. I reached for another old book that had been tucked away at the very back of one of the shelves. Unlike the others, it was noticeably thinner, its leather cover faded with age. As I brushed away the dust that had settled over it, three words slowly came into view. The White Wolves. My heartbeat quickened as I stared at the title for a brief moment before opening the book without wasting another second. “Finally.” The first few pages were filled with handwritten accounts describing the White Wolves as though they had truly existed.

Mike remarked as his self-assurance dwindled. He rolled his eyes and said, "But since when I started reading books." He went to the antique books and manuscripts corridor after arriving at the library. And began looking for collections of eternal wolves. Yona, meantime, was in the corridor's opposite column. She was researching about werewolves in order to give her novel's readers a glimpse into the true world of werewolves. Yes, I didn't tell you that Yona is a creative fantasy fiction author who works part-time for online novel apps.

The only wolf that big was Hector's wolf, yet this wolf appeared from nowhere. Kayla's wolf was insanely strong but something about the other Wolf was suspicious. It could do more than be a wolf, it could fly above you, it could go invisible and attack from anywhere but her wolf was smart. She ended the fight in seconds, following the paw prints it made and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. When she found that moment, she pounced on the other wolf and bit its throat, clenching her sharp teeth so hard. She didn't leave the wolf until Hector started to howl and Nova appeared out of thin air.

Andrew explains as he shrugs, "That's what I told you! Wolfies only exist in books today." Fictional books... Unlike in my day, books are all about facts about werewolves. Only a few novel types. Most titles of the books here are stating someone without actually telling their names: The Rogue Alpha, The Despicable Luna, The Rejected Beta... My Silver Wolf!? But what happened? Why are they fiction if I exist? "Auntie," Linly mumbles, "do we have to know about werewolves today? We should just go back since we can't find any clue."

Looking at it now, I couldn't believe how foolish I'd been. "Elara." A voice came from the gate. I looked up. Silas stood there, a bag of fruit in his hand. Silas was a neighbor I'd met here. A native wolf of the Southern Pack. He ran a small architectural design studio. When I first arrived, I'd happened to apply for a position there. That was how we met. "How are you feeling today?" He walked in and set the fruit on the table. "Brought you some oranges. Thought you might like them."