Wolf Winter Novels & Stories

The light of the morning sunrise is orange and purple like the paintings from my grandmother's old art museum books. The great painter has done his work again and has stretched his colors across the horizon. I can see my breath this morning, autumn maybe here but winter is coming. Winter is hard on the Wolf People Clan, they spend most of it in their werewolf form. Their fur keeps them warm, and I will spend most of my time by the large fire in the great hall beside Cody and Chief Wolfpaw. But not today, today we are still marching toward the promised magic that will deliver us into victory against the great evil of the Ghost.

"He was born in the Harsh Winter. In the North, they say that means something." I shuffled closer. "Means what?" "Now, Yer Highness, the North is always cold..." I nodded to let her know I was following. "But the Harsh Winter is the coldest the Northern realm has ever seen. It is said that the wolves born in the Harsh Winter are different." She glanced around. "Stronger. Harder to kill. Like the cold gets into them when they are small and, ye know, becomes one with them." I thought about the pool last night. The way he'd been so comfortable in the cold, it barely seemed to touch him.

"You can guard my flank in the timber, or you can watch my back from the parapet. But you will not keep me in the dark. Pack the sleds." ​The northern wastes are a vast, white desert where the sky and the snow bleed into a single, blinding grey horizon. ​The wind howls through the frozen valleys, carrying the bitter, chemical stench of the acoustic weaponry long before we find the trail. We move in a tight, aggressive formation—myself and Clyde at the head of a fifty-wolf hunting party, our paws and boots breaking the pristine crust of the snow. Clyde has refused to leave my side, his obsidian wolf-spirit pacing just beneath his skin, a constant, silent threat wrapped in the smell of winter

Fetch. I don’t bother with the door. The window in my quarters is closer to the woods. There’s no discomfort when I shift. For me, it’s not a punishment, it’s a release. It’s like shrugging off a heavy, ill-fitting coat. My wolf is large, much larger than most, with a thick, golden pelt that blends with winter grass and shadow. It’s built for brawling, for endurance, for the brutal, honest cold of the mountains.

I ask as I pull off a piece of pancake and pop it into my mouth; Flora doesn’t say anything until I’ve eaten two pancakes and several pieces of apple and orange. “The Winter Wolves are the closest thing we have to royalty. They don’t sit on thrones or wear crowns but their bloodline can be traced back to when shifters first settled in America. The stories say they came from cold climates which is why their wolves are always snow white and why they settled in Alaska, apparently, if a Winter Wolf leaves the Pack and they don’t meet their fated mate, they are drawn back to Alaska like some kind of magical pull.” Flora flattens out her skirt while speaking so she completely misses the way I drop

Each wolf, with its sleek In the heart of the sanctuary, where the winds whispered secrets and the trees whispered tales, a formidable force emerged. Led by none other than the legendary alpha wolf, Arvandus, the wolf military stood tall and proud, their presence an indomitable shield against any threat that dared to encroach upon their sacred land. Arvandus, with his piercing amber eyes that held the wisdom of countless moons, commanded his loyal pack with an unwavering authority.

Alpha Gray’s eyes widened, and he straightened himself upon the rickety wooden chair. “What. Why I am only finding out about this now?” He accidentally growled at Perla. She looked sternly at him, and he sunk back down unto the chair. “I only just found out myself,” Perla continued. “The vision came to me two days ago, and I have triple checked, but my magic mirror is certain.” “Where is the Ice wolf?” Alpha Gray asked in a softer tone not to upset his grandma again. “She is a seventeen-year-old girl living in the human parts of White Creek town.”

Let’s get back to the present… Christmas had arrived, bringing joy and love to two new couples who had finally found their long-awaited mates. There was Vincent “V” Reigel - the Alpha and CEO of the Silvercrest Pack - spending his Christmas season with his beloved Siel and her twin three-year-olds, James and Rose. Although he preferred to call his newfound mate Elena intimately, he gladly referred to himself as her Christmas wolf. And their story was quite a worthy tale to tell, as well…

What color would her fur be? Lia positioned herself on the carpet about six feet from him, arms at her sides, a naked goddess with her lustrous mane of hair and her hazel eyes flecked with gold. She looked at him for a long moment then closed her eyes, let out her breath, and began to turn in a circle. Yes, it was exactly as it had been with Mike, the air around spinning. As she moved faster, the air became a blur, a thick cloud surrounding her until suddenly it stopped, fell away, and Riley gasped. A gorgeous white wolf stood in her place, with a sculptured head and a majestic body.

Dominic kisses my snout, sending tingles of pleasure into me as he nuzzles against my body. [Anyone want to play tag?] Miles calls out, with everyone voting a unanimous yes as long as he is ‘It’ first. Dominic and I quickly bound away, making sure to put as much distance between us from the group of wolves as I invite Zack, Abby, and Scarlet into our link to play. We were like pups once again, tackling and running away from each other. Many colours of wolves continue to pour out from inside the packhouse, seemingly those who were asleep now getting the news that the blizzard is over. Even Blue came out, his blue fur just as easy to spot as my own flame-like fur. The reason why I hated winter