Wolves Notes Romane & Geschichten

Wolves who touched them didn’t see memories. They just felt calm. The stones on Luna’s hill changed too. The words were still there. WE BLEED TOGETHER WE CHOOSE ANYWAY WE REMEMBER WE CHOOSE FOREVER WE CHOOSE BOTH WE CHOOSE TO REMEMBER But now, under them, new words appeared. Faint. Like they’d always been there but no one looked close enough. WE REST TOGETHER. Wolves cried when they saw it. Not sad crying. Relief crying. Ori stood there a long time.

Thinking the same thing I likely was. Wolves don’t hiss.

“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.”

feeling. I'm beginning to panic. I can't wrap my mind around how I could be a wolf! How is this possible? I ask myself out loud as I'm pacing the yard. I feel that same feeling; my eyes are burning, my heart is beating fast, and my fingers are hurting this time more than the first time, causing me to scream so loud that my sisters come running outside. I'm now at my knees, holding my eyes shut and my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. They get to my side asking what's wrong, trying to help me up in trying to hide what's happening to me, but the pain is so intense I can't fight it monaye grabs my left hand out of my pocket when I fall over in intense pain she looks at my hand and drops it qu

Where the silver half was molded to form a crescent moon, the gold created a perfectly round sun. Every time I slowed, too busy gawking at the elaborate artwork lining the walls, the wolf at Azrael’s side nudged me with its snout. First of all, the paintings moved. How could I not stop and stare? Second, the legends always said that Orion was the most powerful of the wolf gods, but it wasn’t until now that I actually believed it. It was oh so comforting that he also happened to have the worst attitude. When the wolf bumped me for the fourth time I grunted, “Can you tell your pet to stop pushing me along? Don’t let my perky ass fool you, I’m not cattle.”

A dense ring of werewolves tightened around the two wolves in the center. Both brown, powerful, they are frozen on opposite sides of the circle. Bending down, ready for the next jump, not taking their eyes off each other, they waited. The fact that there had already been clashes was indicated by the crimson fur on their skin. Each left a mark on his opponent. The snowy glade was covered with dark spots - bloody footprints. The werewolf with the yellow stripe on his skin was alert. His eye contact with the enemy was broken, and his gaze darted among the werewolves in search.

I silently walk behind him towards the woods at the back of my house. Near the clearing a little bit farther from the cabin, I spot something near a huge pine tree. Taking a deep sniff, I smell something rotten and immediately my wolf stands up in alert. Looking at Calum, he nods, confirming my suspicions. Sure enough, there is a dead body of female wolf. Her scalp has a note stuck on it. I walk forward and pick up the note, successfully avoiding to touch the body. Greetings to the Prince of wolves

POV: Luna I find the note the next morning. It's slipped under my dorm room door, sealed with dark red wax. No name. No return address. Just a symbol pressed into the wax. A wolf's head with crossed claws behind it. I don't recognize it. "What's that?" Nova asks, still half asleep. "I don't know." I break the seal and unfold the paper. The handwriting is sharp and angular, like whoever wrote it was angry. "Eclipse Wolf,

The other two wolves emerged from behind the mansion, their fur a darker, more foreboding shade that seemed to blend seamlessly with the shadows. The three wolves padded towards Nicholas, their eyes fixed on their Alpha with a deep, unwavering loyalty. As they drew closer, they fell into step before him, their howls merging with his in a chorus of sorrow and defiance. Together, the four werewolves stood as one, their voices echoing through the night, a testament to their unbreakable bond and their shared commitment to their pack.

I looked at that photograph for a long time before I set it on the pyre. Reed stood beside me through most of it, which I appreciated because he didn't say anything. He was just there, solid and quiet, and sometimes that was the only thing another person could offer that was worth a damn. When the fire was lit, the pack howled. It started with the elders, low and long, and spread outward through the circle until every wolf in the clearing had their voice in it, two hundred and thirty-one distinct notes braided into one sound that rose above the tree line and into the pale sky and said, without words, “we remember, we remember, we remember.”