Backstage, moments after the final encore

The house lights came up to a roar. The crowd was still buzzing—sweaty, wide-eyed, and euphoric from the thunder Feral Eclipse had just brought down. Gabriel had just walked off stage, sweat-drenched and grinning, his bass slung over his back like a war trophy.

Thane was already waiting at the bottom of the ramp, towel slung over one shoulder, headset around his neck, his fur a little singed-smelling from too much time near the dimmer racks.

Mark stood nearby with his clipboard, watching the lighting rig slowly return to standby mode. He already had a soda cracked open and looked ready to throttle the next intern who bumped into the patch bay.

Before anyone could say a word, the side door to the loading area burst open.

A human fan—probably late twenties, glitter-streaked and wide-eyed—barreled straight toward Gabriel.

“OH MY GOD,” she gasped, waving a homemade sign that read “FERAL DADDY” in neon paint. “YOU’RE REAL. YOU’RE ACTUALLY REAL.”

Gabriel froze mid-towel swipe, eyes going wide. “Uh—hey?”

More fans followed. Dozens of them. Word had clearly spread backstage like wildfire.

“He was playing with CLAWS!”

“He howled into the mic during the solo—I swear I felt that in my soul!”

Security was late to react, caught between amusement and chaos. A few crew members tried to redirect the surge, but it was too late.

Gabriel, overwhelmed, looked to Thane and Mark like a cornered animal.

“Uh… guys?”

Thane stepped between Gabriel and the fan hoard like a brick wall, claws flexed just a little—not threatening, but clear.

“All right, everybody take a breath,” he said, projecting full Dad-Wolf energy. “You want autographs, line starts over there. If you want a chunk of fur, try eBay. And if you even think about touching his tail, I will bite back.”

The crowd actually listened—somewhat stunned, definitely impressed.

Mark, from off to the side, muttered, “You should’ve put that on a T-shirt.”

One brave kid in a band tee pointed at Gabriel, eyes wide. “Is he, like… a real werewolf?”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave them a sly grin, one fang just showing. “What do you think?”

The kid’s jaw dropped. “COOLEST. BAND. EVER.”

Thane rolled his eyes, but he was grinning now. “Yeah yeah, move along, rockstars. Some of us gotta strike the stage.”

As the crowd began to shuffle into selfie mode and merch tables, Mark took a long sip of soda and muttered, “Remind me to triple up the barricades next time.”

“Or just bring silver rope,” Thane replied, deadpan.

Gabriel looked over, still catching his breath, tail flicking behind him. “I think I’m gonna need a nap.”

Thane clapped a clawed hand on his shoulder. “You earned it, my wolf.”