Wool Shift Dust Novels & Stories

And I don’t believe he would follow my advice. Next the ones that will be having their first shift all came walking out of the woods with white over throws or blankets around them. Some of the pieces are nicely decorated, others have their family name on it. So, they are all naked under those white blankets. It makes sense, since their clothes will be shredded during the shift. Our wolf bodies are bigger than our human bodies, it doesn't matter how big or small you are as a person.

The design was elegant yet daring, with a V-neckline and a fitted bodice that gave way to a flowing skirt with a subtle slit. "The color-shifting fabric is even better than I imagined," Freya said proudly. "It enhances your Briarthorn coloring perfectly." My ashy rose-brown hair was styled in loose waves, the distinctive rosey silver shift more pronounced against the dress. Even my grey eyes seemed to have picked up the blue tones from the fabric. "I don't know what to say, Freya. It's incredible." She beamed at the compliment. "Every she-wolf at the gala is going to be jealous, and every male will be—"

Dust particles danced in the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, creating an ethereal ambiance. Eying a specific shelf covered in a thin layer of dust, Joseph couldn't resist the allure of exploration. His fingers traced the spines of neglected books, each one a silent witness to the passage of years. With a gentle pull, Joseph selected a dusty tome, feeling the weight of its untold stories in his hands.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she extracted a small, worn pouch from her cloak. She moved around the battlefield, her movements deliberate yet frail, as she scattered a fine, shimmering dust from the pouch over the rampaging werewolf. The dust, a concoction of 25 rare herbs and a very expensive material called "stardust," worked as a slow-acting sedative, designed to soothe the beast's wild frenzy. "All my savings going to waste on this nonsense..." she muttered under her breath. *** Hidden in the dark forest, a woman clad in dark, stealthy attire urgently whispered into her earpiece, her voice a blend of tension and resolve. "Sir, shadow troops have arrived at the battle location," she r

These were not real black sheep. “Let’s go,” Zen told Sasha. “These aren’t the real black sheep.” Startled by how quickly Zen was giving up, Sasha pulled him by the arm, unwilling to get them off the roof just yet. “How do you know? We haven’t tried!” Although the quest system never lied, it could sometimes be tricky. The Shady Merchant wanted the black wool of actual black sheep, not sheep shifters. These women were closer to humans than sheep if they ate human food. Besides, there was no way to shear them or cut their hair without causing chaos. They had no shears or scissors to cut the hair with.

“Yours?” “High end clothing. If you see the bears, come in to clean, you’ll understand they can’t exactly buy off the rack. It’s a common problem within the shifter community. Specialty needs in clothing. Dragon shifter’s are some of the hardest. Some need materials that resist burning, acid. Wolves need clothes with quick releases, can be pulled off, or stretch so that they don’t injure themselves shifting if they’re forced to shift unexpectedly.” “So life for you guys is a little complicated trying to hide all this. Geez, why didn’t you come out before this?”

Then a sting meets my inner thigh, making me gasp, and I fist my skirt. My spine stills against the seat, every muscle in my body working itself as I adjust to the bite of whatever he just did. He moves away, coming back in again, another sting needling my thigh, this time higher up my skirt. Wax? I convulse, my clit reacting to the tingling that pricks at my skin. I slap a hand to my mouth, biting on my index finger to even out the sweet pain. A moan slips as he kneads my skin.

“Smell what? All I smell is you, Ainslee.” I roll my eyes. “So you smell sweat and clothes that haven’t been properly laundered for months because we can’t afford soap?” I shake my head at him, pulling my dark blue cloak closer around me. It had been my mother’s at one point. The thread is so bare, parts of it are practically translucent, so it doesn’t do much to keep out the autumn chill. Properly nourished wolf shifters are rarely cold. Those on the brink of starvation, like most of my pack, are often chilly. Also, few of us can actually still shift for the same reason.

We had our hair curled and styled tight to our heads, with very little touches of natural makeup added. The one big downside of shifting was that too much makeup and it would show up on your fur. A knock sounded on the door and I smelled him walk in. Amber and musk hit my senses and I turned to see Gerwulf. His bloody red hair stuck out against the deep green dress shirt he wore to try to match. His black dress pants were fitted to his legs and he wore sleek black shoes. My body moved on it's own towards him like we were magnets. "They're still silver," he whispered, one of his strong hands reaching out caressing my cheek," I'm starting to really like them."