“I get why you call yourselves Pixies,” I say. “This place looks like a magical fairy village.”
“Pretty sweet right?”
Olivia and Mia lead us through their makeshift village. It feels like a folk music festival or something out ofPeter Pan.The smell of incense wafts through the air. Everywhere there are young rogues, with wild unwashed hair, going about their days. Some are cooking, some working on crafts. For the most part they seem happy to see us. They wave at Mia and Olivia as they pass and give us welcoming smiles. There are of course some who glare at us suspiciously, and even one woman who spots me and does her best to slam the flap of her tent shut.
“The Pixies have lived in one forest or another for over fifty years,” Mia says. “They came here around 2007 and haven’t left since.”
“It’s great,” I say.
“We provide a haven for anyone who has been cast out on their own and keep an eye on rogue outposts, helping where we can,” Olivia says.
“Where do you make the bombs?” Omar says, eliciting a glare from Olivia and no other response.
A circle of tree stumps sits in the center of the village, with a small fire burning in the middle. A young guy in a tattered waistcoat, white tank, and what appear to be pajama pants isstoking the fire. He looks up and winks at me as Olivia gestures for us to sit. Mia heads to a table set up nearby, where another couple of rogues are dishing out plates of eggs and biscuits.
I’m about to ask where they get their produce from when I notice the chickens running wild through the camp.
“Eat up,” Mia says, handing me and Omar a bowl each. “You’ve got to be starving.”
She goes back to the table and grabs a couple more bowls then joins us, handing one off to Olivia, who places it on her knee but doesn’t dig in right away.
“You want to explain how you ended up in the forgotten alphas’ nest?” Olivia asks.
“Right,” I say with my mouth full. I wasn’t hungry before, too much adrenaline still coursing through my system. But after one bite of scramble, I’m suddenly ravenous. “You already seem to know about Walter and the Axis Pack.”
“Of course,” Olivia says. “Everyone knows. They’ve been out here terrorizing innocent people for months.”
“Well, we know what they want. To conquer the Elite Pack. They’re upping their assault, and it could turn into full-blown war pretty much any day.”
“Jericho must be tearing his hair out.”
Omar and I share a look. “Jericho is—out of action. There was an attack. He’s in a coma.”
“Oh shit.”
Mia sits forward, placing her half-eaten bowl on the stump next to her. “Does that mean ...?”
“Jasper is running the show.”
Both of their eyes grow wide. Mia shakes her head lightly, I can only imagine the similar scenarios running through her mind, the ones where she has to take over as alpha if something happens to her father.
“Poor Jasp,” she says.
“So why are you out here?” Olivia asks.
“We need help. Our army isn’t strong enough to hold off Walter and his allied troops. We’ve been traveling, visiting rogues, trying to persuade anyone we can to join us.”
Olivia’s eyebrows rise dangerously close to her hairline. “How’s that going?”
I sigh. “Not great.”
“It’s not the rogues’ fault,” Omar adds. “I get why they wouldn’t want to help a pack. But what I don’t get is why they won’t help each other.”
Two women walk by holding hands, waving good morning to Mia and Olivia, who wave back, smiling, but the second they’re gone Olivia narrows her eyes, glaring at Omar.
“And you? You’re not Elite Pack. What’s your role in all this?”
“Oh yeah, you guys haven’t met, have you?” I say, shoveling the last of my eggs into my mouth. “This is Omar, I met him when we were staying with the Rocky Pack and then again at the Rogue Sanc, he’s a good friend. He’s been crazy helpful with the whole blood-wolf thing.”
