Wren Surviving Summer Novels & Stories

The air smelled of sweet nectar and something older, something that reminded me of the sacred stone during the mating ceremony—raw power, ancient and feminine. And there, at the edge of the pool, sat Wren, her small form perfectly still as she watched the dancing lights with rapt attention. "Wren," I called softly, approaching slowly so as not to startle her. Wren turned, but showed no surprise at my appearance. "They called me," she said simply, her voice dreamlike. "I couldn't ignore them." I knelt beside her, the cool, damp earth soaking through my pants. "We were worried. The sun's getting lower, and we still haven't made fire."

Her voice cut off. Wren stared over her head. She was short. He wondered if his baby sister would have been this short or if she’d have been as tall as he was. He wondered if she would have had babies of her own by now. The wall in front of him blurred. “Lunch can be pushed off. Why don’t you shift and we can just walk around the grounds for awhile?” Wren moved mechanically to follow the suggestion. He left his clothes in a pile on the floor and shifted. A single blink cleared the blurriness from his eyes but it did nothing to heal his aching throat or hollowness of his chest.

The city had learned to disarm without needing to tear. She still lived. For now. Her HUD flickered between static and a single text line: SIGNAL LOST. LINK SUSPENDED. She swore, voice drowned by the stream. The empire felt very far away. Above, on the broken lip of the old east road, Wren crouched behind a chunk of concrete, lungs burning, one gloved hand pressed hard against the side of her neck where a shard of shrapnel had kissed too close. Her armor’s diagnostic display crawled across the inside of her visor: three team members silent, two signals weak, one—hers—flaring bright with stress.

The throne room, where the Frostborn had sat for three centuries, was being dismantled stone by stone. Wren's hand rested on her belly, where her pup was growing. She was five months along now, healthy and strong, her gold-flickering eyes steady as she looked at the fortress that had once been her prison. "I was born in the lower cells," Wren said, and her voice was calm. "My mother was a captured omega from a pack I'll never know. She died when I was three. I don't remember her face. I just remember the cold." I stood beside her in the doorway. "You don't have to be here. We can find someone else to oversee the transition."

Dryad blinked, “Am so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” “Never mind. Never mind me.” Wren conversed. “I actually have many dreams. One is to become the strongest woman ever lived and to protect my Kingdom from any external forces.” Wren folded her fist, tightly, looking serious as ever. “Wow! Big sister!” Dryad eyes beamed while staring at Wren. She looked at him in amazement then they both laughed. “Are you guys having fun.” A disembodied voice echoed around the garden as the wind around them became stronger, Wren immediately stood up scanning the whole area as both her and Dryad's hair and clothes quivered.

"Now that my dicey love life is out of the way, Mitch suggested I float this to you. What do you think about having the wedding here at my place this summer? Right on the beach…" "Ooooh. I get it… sweet talk designed to move me away from this very uncomfortable topic…" With that, Aiden burst into laughter as they turned back for the house. # A few hours passed, filled with conversation and relaxation, something Aiden had been desperately in need of. After filing Jessie and Jacob in on the photograph of her Nan and the stories they'd heard from Jerry, along with much wedding discussion and debating, Jessie declared she was exhausted and needed a nap, so Jacob and she took their leave right af

Arya I had arrived at my family’s lake cabin after a five-hour drive. I will be spending the entire summer here, so eight weeks. It had been in my family for generations. We spent our summer vacation here when I was a kid with my parents, younger sister Demi and my older brother Nathan. But as the years passed and we got older, our parents got older, we stopped coming. My siblings have their own families now.

Wren Six weeks in, Wren had learned to fix a roof, snare something bigger than rabbit, and stop flinching when Ezra barked orders in a tone that used to remind her of every reason she'd hated pack hierarchy back in Blackthorn. Six weeks in, she'd also stopped waking up reaching for a chest wound that wasn't going to heal on its own, which she counted as the closest thing to progress she had, even if the ache itself hadn't actually gone anywhere.

It was so frequent that I even wondered if he was deliberately waiting there, just to catch me. Thanks to Willow, I survived the winter. However, I was greedy. I wanted to live until summer and die under a blazing sun. Whenever I said things like that, Willow would lecture me, her words sharp and unforgiving. If she hadn’t secretly turned away to wipe her tears afterward, she might have sounded more convincing. I’d been given too many painkillers. They barely worked anymore. Sometimes, the pain would keep me awake for days on end; other times, I would fall into a deep, heavy sleep.

Wren awoke shortly after midnight. He looked over at Lindsay’s pillow and saw Crook lying on it. The dog promptly kicked Wren in the face. Wren sat up and looked around, thinking that maybe Lindsay had gotten up, but the light was off in the bathroom. He got out of bed and pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. The house was cool, and Wren could hear thunder in the distance. He quietly walked through the house. Not seeing Lindsay, he knew where she would be. He grabbed a bottle of her favorite orange soda from the refrigerator, took the blanket off the back of the couch, and stepped onto the front porch. Lindsay was sitting on the oversized chaise lounge, watching the storm to the south.