Wolf Stories Novels & Stories

His people kept their distance, but they respected him—and by extension, left me alone. But my dreams? They grew worse. They weren’t just dreams anymore. They were memories. Too vivid. Too real. Flames. Screams. A woman—my mother—pressing something into my hand. A man with silver eyes facing down monsters that howled like broken wolves. And always, the voice. “Run, little star.” It was during a rare moment of calm—when I’d stepped outside to breathe in the cold—that itappeared. The wind stilled. The air shimmered. And then, from the edge of the forest, a great she-wolf emerged.

alpha Rowan says, he looked ruffed up, he had a big bite over his neck, and my eyes kept going back to that point on his neck. The two alphas sat next to each other on one side and I sat on the opposite one, I kept avoiding their eyes, worried that I won't be in trouble now. "Have you ever heard about white wolves?" alpha Aiden asks me and I shake my head no. "Verbal answers please," alpha Rowan order me. "Okay, haven't heard," I say in a mumbling voice. "White wolves are the rarest wolves out there, some people don't believe they exist, do you know how many there are out in the world?" alpha Aiden asks me and I shake my head no.

But the wolves did, of course, sniffing them out and killing them when done feasting on the girls. One wolf ate away at the hostess’s beautiful and carefully made-up face. Werewolves consider the eyes to be a delicacy. Another ripped open a girl’s gown, bearing her breasts, breaking her ribs, clawing out the heart and devouring it, still beating, as it squirted thick dark blood.

Leslie groaned awake as Tara and Zak dragged a table across the shattered window and braced it with chairs. “Tom? You can’t be out of bed,” Leslie said, pushing up on her elbows. “Jakey, what’s happening? What are those animals?” “Werewolves,” Jake said, eyes not leaving the hall. “They’re real.” Tara peeled a slat of the front blinds. “They’re everywhere,” she whispered. “Sniffing. Hunting.” Zak joined her, jaw tight. “Can we make the car?” She checked—froze. “They’re ripping the W.R.X. to pieces.”

Once more Carr spoke to his pack through their bond, and as one, the wolves began to howl. At first the women were frightened when they heard the howls, thinking back to their previous few months in the caves. Jenna spoke softly to them all. "The wolves howl to say goodbye to their family. They're telling the moon to watch out for them, keep them safe on their journey to a new life. Once you are all part of the pack you'll understand. This is our heritage. This is what we were meant to be." The women were slow to agree, but finally, one at a time, they nodded their agreement. The white wolf watched his mate with pride as she explained to her cousins.

Miss you guys. Then I drop the phone again. My hands are shaking slightly. The silence of the large, unfamiliar room hums around me, a waiting silence. I break it first. “So, Isla… what are wolves actually like? Besides possessive and obsessed with titles.” She chuckles, a comforting, rolling sound in my mind. "Depends on the wolves, really. These ones? Traditional. Bound to cultures, customs, rituals, and strict hierarchy. Honestly, they cling to traditions more than any other supernatural creature I know. It's their method of staying grounded and hidden."

“Your wolf is nothing like the ones the rest of us carry. She is the legendary White Wolf—a creature as breathtakingly beautiful as she is rare. However, her nature is a complex one; she is deeply shy, a trait she has carried through the ages,” Valerius explained, his voice resonant with the weight of his experience.

He turned a few pages and read on: In the mythological representations of many peoples, the wolf is a symbol of the leader of the military squad, and the squad itself is a wolf pack. In the plot from Monomakh's Teachings, the Polovtsy “lick themselves like Voltzi standing” Khan Bonyak on the eve of the battle with the Hungarians howls like a wolf. After making a few more notes, Conrod put the book aside and picked up another Legends and Facts of Old Times. He opened the Lycanthropy section:

I burst through the tree line into chaos. Six massive creatures prowled through Steele territory. They were not wolves. Not anymore. Cursed beasts twice the size of any natural wolf, with eyes that glowed different colours. Red. Green. Gold. Purple. Each one represented a different bloodline. A different ancient horror bound to flesh and rage. And they were slaughtering my wolves. Bodies littered the ground. Wolves I trained with. Ate with. Lived beside. Now reduced to torn flesh and spilt blood.

As punishment, the enraged Zeus turned Lycaon and his sons into wolves. Werewolves also emerged in early Nordic folklore. The Saga of the Volsungs tells the story of a father and son who discovered wolf pelts that had the power to turn people into wolves for ten days. The father-son duo donned the pelts, transformed into wolves and went on a killing rampage in the forest. Their rampage ended when the father attacked his son, causing a lethal wound. The son only survived because a kind raven gave the father a leaf with healing powers." I closed the book as I found myself back to the room having this confused expression in my face, see what curiosity had made me do, I never knew that someone w