Wolfsong Series Novels & Stories

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, but she nodded, urging me to continue. “There’s a legend among wolves,” I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “A story passed down for generations about two wolves destined to bring balance during a time of great darkness. One black, one white, both with blue eyes. They’re called the Eclipse Wolves.” She tilted her head slightly, her expression puzzled. “Okay… What does that have to do with us?” I took a deep breath. “Sofia, you and I—we’re those wolves. The ones from the legend.”

Instead, guided by a primal, overwhelming instinct, Thorne threw his head back and released a long, melodic howl into the glowing night sky. The warrior beside him joined in. Then the mothers, the children, the elders. A cacophony of hundreds of wolves howling in perfect, beautiful harmony rose from the peak of Moonrise, tearing through the night, echoing across the valleys and the distant forests. It was a song of triumph. A song of rebirth.

There was a long pause. I had to smile when Cherokee let loose his howl. It was the song of a life of freedom, and protecting those who needed protecting. There were more pauses, silences that were as much a part of our wolfsong as our howls. From each of them their song rang out true. They sang from their hearts, from their very beings. The small yellow and black Lobo wolf sang out. His song spoke of his joy in the wolf's ability to travel thousands of miles as it followed the migration of its prey. His love of traveling was a note held throughout his howl.

Late at night when the moon is high / The Wolf will make its eerie cry / Echoes in the valleys deep / And the mountains that are steep Then they travel far and wide / To find that soothing lullaby / They do not stop not once at all / Until they find that lovely song Their children listen with awe and fright / To how their parents sing at night / Then they run with their pack / Not turning once to look back Running in the snowy night / Covering their coats in frosty delight / Finding the source of the music / Sitting down and howling to it Crying with the pack they found / Vibrating the land with its sound / They sing all night not in day / Then they leave to get their prey

Something in between. The serum wolves are coming.

With a synchronized surge, the pack warriors charged at the intruders, a relentless force driven by loyalty and a fierce tenacity to safeguard their sovereign. In the heart of the tumult, over five wolves formed a protective circle around Astrid. Each wolf, a vigilant sentinel, stood ready to ward off any threat that dared to approach her. In the heart of the battleground, a frenzied concerto of primal rage unfolded as the wolves turned upon the rogues with savage ferocity. Fangs sank into fur, tearing into flesh, as the air echoed with growls and yelps. The scent of blood permeated the road, staining the once-pristine ground in crimson hues. The macabre dance of violence left an indelible m

The fire burned beautifully, changing colors as it ascended the tower, thanks to the special salt scattered around the bodies. Yash sang a familiar song, and the entire pack joined in. Every wolf knew this song, the melody of returning to the moon to be by Selene's side. As the bodies burned and their ashes drifted towards the heavens, the voices of every wolf present rose in unison, singing. It was not often that this song was sung, and even less so by such a large gathering. The feeling that Selene heard us was palpable, surrounding us with strength. I was certain that today would be a day blessed by Selene.

Calissa said stepping forward. With Ryan and Luther by my side, Calissa and Christine behind me I make my way down the steps. I want to greet these new wolves. I can tell just by looking at them they are scared and confused. They are a mix of men and women. Ages from maybe twenty to maybe sixty. It is hard to tell with wolves because they age differently than humans. The aging slows when we hit our twenties. Stop when they are just five feet in front of me. I know my guardians and a few warriors are behind me.

Amoux let out a loud howl and growled at Ruelle and Lowell, Leonard’s wolf. He stood in front of her in a protective stance, and I didn’t waste time. Amoux charged at him, but he dodged. My wolf was faster, biting his leg and making him howl in pain as he tried to bite him back on the neck. Ruelle was standing there in shock, whining and howling for help. With another loud growl, Amoux charged again, letting himself be led by how I was feeling and both wolves kept fighting. In the middle of the scuff, we both felt two big wolves charge against us, but instead of wanting to fight, they stopped us. They were both growling at us our wolves whined in submission, knowing they were the Alpha and t

Ysolde rose and crossed to the bedside table and picked up the small leather book of pack-songs from where she had set it the previous afternoon, and she sat back down in the chair by the window and opened the book to the small careful place she had marked with a thin grey ribbon, and she began to read. She read in the small soft voice she used for reading. The pack-song was an old one in the Lycan tongue Elowen had learned as a child at her father's house, and the small old words were the small old words of every western Lycan child who had ever been put to bed by a nurse who knew the song. The small grey wolf in the song went out into the snow at the full moon to find a child who had wande