The next morning, I wake stupidly early, a thin stream of pale dawn light is slipping through the gap in my curtains. But Idon’t feel tired. My eyes slide open with a new sense of purpose burning behind them.
All night I thought about what Aisha said and what Omar told me about the Rogue Nation and how they’re under as much threat, if not more, from Walter and his Axis Pack as we are. As usual, Aisha is right. I don’t need to decide what to do or try to influence things with my abilities without knowing what’s best for everyone out there. What I should be doing is using my powers to tune in to what’s happening across the country, to listen and learn from the wolves out there, and to see what course of action would benefit us all the most.
Sliding out of bed, I pull on running shorts, my favorite green hoodie, and a tattered pair of trainers before heading into the hall. The door to my mom and dad’s bedroom is ajar, but the light is off, meaning they’re still asleep. In the kitchen, I gulp down a glass of ice-cold water then slip through the back door, making sure not to let it bang shut behind me and wake the whole house.
Once I’m down the stairs leading off the back porch I speed into a jog, taking the trail into the woods. The sun is barely up but it’s already a warm day, the air is rich with the smell of pine. My feet move swiftly beneath me, heading to the river, and my familiar spot where I like to draw.
The trickling sound of water greets me as I arrive, the scene looking like something from a fairy tale with beams of morning light streaming through the trees, the greens vibrant and lush, and the stream a refreshing splash of crystal blue. Considering the state of pack politics and the threat of hostile actions against us, I feel calm this morning. Confident that I’m finally taking some action and using my powers in the right way. I just hope that whatever happens in the next fifteen minutes or so does some good.
Only time will tell, but from the way my head feels light, the way my chest feels open, receptive to the summer air, oxygen-filled, I have to believe I’m on the right track.
I cross my legs under me as I perch on my usual rock, rest my palms on my knees, and close my eyes.
Taking calm, deep breaths, I let my consciousness expand, opening myself up to the Lunar Plane. As always, I feel like I’m floating in a warm but weightless void. Gradually the threads of my fellow wolves come into view, red and fizzing like electricity. Usually I would explore the Lunar Plane like I would if I were walking, my feet firmly placed on the ground, traveling horizontally through the web of souls, but today I need to go bigger, I want to zoom out and see wolfkind as a whole, to listen to the voices of the Lupine Chorus, hoping they’ll tell me what I need to know, or point me in the right direction.
Feeling very much like a superhero, I lift off, rising through the web of wolves, flying higher and higher until the web resembles a map, reaching across the Lunar Plane. From my vantage point I feel like I can see all the wolves in the United States, draped below me like so many vines. Intuitively, I reach out for the rogues, attuning my senses to those of the wolves without pack associations. One by one their threads begin to shine, turning pale, until they’re almost golden. I call them out. I strain to listen to what they have to tell me.
Their voices cry out, desperate for peace, for safety, for a life free of oppression and stigma. But there are so many voices, each vibrating on a different frequency, that it’s hard to discern a single train of thought. I zoom out a little further, rising even higher, and draw out the rogue’s threads until they’re not just glowing, they’re shining, brilliant and white.
There are so many of them, more than I ever imagined. More than a thousand Sancs put together, more than any of ourteachers or elders ever told us there were, more than—more than any single pack. And that’s when I realize something vital.
My eyes snap open and my consciousness contracts back to normal. But my heart is thrumming in my chest, my body vibrating, because a fresh thought has sprung to life in me.
We can win.
MAX’S PLAN
“You sure he’s gonna be happy to see me?” Omar asks, hands shoved firmly in his jeans pockets as we zip up in the elevator to the meeting rooms on the seventy-first floor of the packhouse.
“He’ll be thrilled,” I say, only half sure. “I’m more worried about what he’s going to say when I explain my plan.”
Omar pulls a hand from his pocket and places it warmly on my arm. “What you’re trying to do is amazing, Cuz. Don’t forget that.”
I smile, but somehow, I’m not sure Jasper will see it the same way.
“This way,” I say as the doors ping open. I’ve never actually been to this floor of the packhouse, there are so freaking many I’m sure the people who work here have barely been to all of them. But I can sense Jasper.
The walls are lined with glass, doors leading off to multiple meeting rooms filled with computers, each with a different pack wolf behind them working on surveillance, or playingSpace Invaders, or secretly checking their socials—I don’t know what goes on here. Lush ferns decorate the corners of the room, modern art hangs between doors. It’s sleek and modern and looks like it must cost a fortune to keep up.
I’m excited to see where Jasper has been spending the bulk of his time since the incident. I like having this insight into his life, though I find this space a little too corporate and a little too lifeless for my tastes. Give me the woods any day.
“Come in,” Jasper says when we arrive. “Thank you, everyone,” he continues, speaking to the three officers with him. “Let’s reconvene after lunch.”
The officers leave, nodding respectfully to me as they do, and the second they’re gone, Jasper presses both palms flat onto the table, as if steadying himself, and takes a couple of deep breaths. I move around the long marble-topped conference table and rub his back.
“You doing okay?”
“Another long day. There have been skirmishes along the western border. Walter is ramping up his attacks, they’re trying to condense our forces into a smaller area, fence us in. Our troops are resisting but Walter’s wolves are vicious, they fight dirty.”
“I can attest to that,” Omar says from where he’s lingering, just inside the doorway.
Jasper lifts his head to match Omar’s gaze.
“Yes, hello. Max told me what happened to you,” he says. “I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t have come. We barely have the resources to protect our own at the moment, and—”
“You think I came for your protection?” Omar says, stepping forward proudly. “I couldn’t care less about your protection. I want you to do something to help the rogues being hurt by this war that your people started.”
Jasper grits his teeth. “You think this is our fault?”
