Outside Bloomington, Indiana, we meet a cohort of young rogues who have set up a commune in the rectangular basin of a disused limestone quarry. Artists, they’ve decorated the stone walls with murals. Their tents are covered in crafted tapestriesand painted fabrics. At night they sit around a fire singing and telling stories.
Between Hopkinsville and Pembroke we meet a group of all-female rogues who live in three cottages on a large plot of land, who left their pack together, fed up with how the male alpha and their mates refused to show them the respect they deserve. They work together, chopping firewood, gardening to grow their own food, and fixing up the derelict barn on their land in the hopes of building a refuge for other rogue women.
From there we stop at another three settlements, one situated much like Rogue City in an abandoned waterworks, and the other two not so dissimilar from Missy and Bert’s farm. Along the road we also encounter rogues not living in settlements, but instead staying on their own in caravans, or cottages, mostly on large properties or the outskirts of towns, keeping to themselves and staying out of the way.
In just over a week I meet so many new wolves, each of them going about their lives in different ways, with different but very real struggles, but also so much hope, I can hardly take it all in.
If only the wolves at home could see how these rogues are out here living beyond the confines of the pack system, beyond what human society deems normal. They’re doing their own thing and they’re thriving.
But we also encounter the reach of Walter and the Axis Pack and the devastation they’re causing to all of wolfkind. At one settlement all the wolves of fighting age have been taken, forced to serve under Walter’s leadership, coerced with the threat that something untoward will happen to their families if they don’t. We see true poverty, wolves who live with nothing. We meet wolves who live off the land in a way I never could. We meet wolves who’ve fled their packs instead of succumbing to Walter’s influence, who took nothing with them and are now adrift. Wesee the way the packs have sucked up resources and kept the rogues in the surrounding territories suppressed, ostracized.
“But the thing that has stuck with me the most,”I tell Jasper late one night, somewhere outside of Dallas,“is how no matter what terrible thing they’ve faced, the rogues are still determined to live these big fulfilling lives. Their spirit is just—irrepressible.”
I poke at our campfire with a stick and glance back to the car, where Omar is snoozing in the passenger seat. He’s been great about giving me privacy when I need to speak with Jasper.
“That’s great,”Jasper says.“It sounds like you’re learning a lot and meeting lots of new people.”
“It’s incredible,”I say, plowing on and unable to contain my passion for these wolves.“It just shows there are so many more ways to live and even though some of these people have nothing, they’re just doing it, you know, it doesn’t matter to them. They make do and—Oh did I mention we met an all-women cohort, and one of the wolves there showed me how to use an old-school loom to, like, make clothes and fabrics and stuff?”
“That’s cool.”
“I wish you could see it. This nation of rogues. It’s diverse and there’s struggle but there’s also grit and perseverance. And I feel, I don’t know, I guess inspired. By them but also by how much good I could do, you know, as the blood wolf, to connect the rogues that are struggling with the more established settlements, or to help connect wolves with the right settlements for their needs. Or maybe we could even figure out how to share resources between settlements, how to get them to the rogues who are out there on their own, or—”
“These all sound like amazing ideas,”Jasper says, and I can hear the sadness in his voice. I’ve been so busy blatheringon about helping the rogues and feeling inspired by them, I’ve almost forgotten we came out here with a mission.
I wait with a brick in my stomach for the inevitable question.
“So ... how many have said they’ll help us?”Jasper asks with genuine hope in his voice.
Sparks rise from the fire where I poke at it, flipping a log deeper into the flames and revealing the glowing orange belly underneath.
“Jasp . . .”
The fire crackles.
“It’s not that simple. The rogues—even the ones who live in big communities—they don’t ... they aren’t equipped for ... I’m not sure ...”
“No one has said they’ll help us,”he states plainly.
Smoke rises. The night sky is clear, the darkness made all the more deep and impenetrable. The shadows of nearby rocks and bushes stretch long across the rocky ground.
“We’ve been trying,”I say. Silence stretches longer than the shadows.“Have there been any more attacks?”I ask when I can’t take it any longer.
“No,”Jasper says.
“That’s good then, right?”
“Maybe.”He’s quiet again for a moment but this time I wait for him to speak.“Our intelligence seems to think it might mean something else. That Walter is done poking the bear.”
“What does that mean?”I drop my stick in the fire and run a hand down my face.
“It means he’s getting ready to attack us headfirst, with the full brunt of his army.”
My throat tenses up, making it impossible to swallow.
“The war we’ve been talking about, Max. It’s coming. And sooner than we think.”
I take a few quick breaths, pushing air out through pursed lips to try and keep myself calm.
