The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time Feral Eclipse wrapped load-out. The backstage area still buzzed with leftover electricity from the day’s chaos — festival staff in reflective vests shouting orders, forklifts beeping in the distance, cables being coiled and crates slammed shut. But the wolves and their crew were already weaving their way through the maze of tents and trailers, heading back toward their tour bus.
Word had gotten out.
By the time they rounded the corner toward their parking zone, a crowd had formed — not fans who had wandered out from the crowd, but venue volunteers, local vendors, and even other musicians still lingering around the grounds. People who had seen the set, or heard the rumors, or were still talking about the werewolf who jumped onstage with Trivium. And now they all wanted a moment. A signature. A selfie. A story to post.
Thane raised one brow as the mob surged forward.
“This isn’t load-out,” he muttered. “This is a side quest.”
Gabriel was already halfway there, grinning wildly as he was mobbed. “Side quests are where the loot lives!”
Within seconds, the pack was surrounded. Gabriel handed out selfies like candy, signing autographs in eyeliner and someone’s purple glitter pen. Cassie posed with a girl wearing makeshift wolf ears and a crop top that said “HOWL IF YOU LOVE ME.” Maya and Rico tried to push the crowd back gently, only to find themselves swept into a group photo with half of someone else’s band. Emily signed someone’s lanyard and then panicked slightly when they asked if she was the Emily from “Field Notes From the Stars.”
Mark? Mark just folded his arms and glared until someone handed him a cold bottle of root beer and a slice of pizza, then decided the chaos was tolerable.
Jonah climbed onto the loading ramp at the back of the bus and started a chant that immediately spiraled into another crowd howl. The pack joined in, every werewolf voice cutting through the night, sending a ripple of excited shrieks across the parking lot.
A man with an official-looking lanyard — security, maybe — waved frantically. “You guys gotta go or we’re gonna get fined!”
Thane raised both arms. “Alright, alright! Merch table’s closed! We’re out!”
Gabriel leapt onto the bus steps backward, blowing kisses and winking. “We’ll be back next time with more claws, more chaos, and hopefully fewer noise complaints!”
Doors closed. The crowd banged the sides of the bus like it was a victory parade float.
Inside, the band collapsed into their usual chaos of laughter, tail swishes, and half-unpacked gear sliding across the floor.
As the bus rumbled to life and pulled out into the dark, winding roads away from Glastonbury, the lights of the festival slowly fading behind them, the pack leaned back in their seats, hearts still hammering from the high.
They’d conquered one of the most legendary stages in the world.
And they weren’t done yet.