The sun was already brutal when Feral Eclipse rolled into Pryor, Oklahoma, the van crawling through the dense maze of dusty fields, flags, tents, RVs, and shirtless chaos that was Rocklahoma. The gates were open, the music was loud, and the whole weekend screamed feral freedom.

“Holy crap,” Jonah whispered, peeking out the window. “Is that guy crowd-surfing in a baby pool?”

“Two of them,” Mark confirmed, sipping soda without a hint of judgment.

Gabriel’s grin practically broke his muzzle. “Oh we are home.”

🏕️ No VIP. No Backstage. Right in the Fray.

Thane parked the van not in the designated artist section, but dead-center in the fan campground. He’d made the call on the drive in.

“If we’re playing for the people,” he said, “we camp with the people.”

They pulled out folding chairs, canopies, and crates of merch like seasoned road warriors. Within minutes, their little corner of the festival turned into ground zero for chaos:

  • Rico and Maya were jamming with random fans on battered acoustics and beer cans.
  • Jonah started a drum-off on plastic tubs with a group of shirtless dudes in war paint.
  • Gabriel signed a shirtless guy’s back and got lifted onto a cooler like some kind of wolf god.

A massive, duct-taped hand-painted banner reading “FERAL ECLIPSE CAMPS HERE” was hoisted by a fan over the site. Someone grilled hot dogs. Someone else tried to name their tent The Howlden.

📻 The Surprise Interview

Late in the afternoon, a station crew from 97.5 KZLF — The Rig came by, clearly following the noise.

Their DJ, Carla Vega, held out a mic and said, “We were gonna track down your tour manager. Then we saw your bassist crowd-surfing on a camp mattress.”

Gabriel threw a peace sign behind her.

So they pulled up camp chairs, gathered around a beat-up fold-out table, and went live on the air right there in the dirt.

“You’re not hiding in green rooms,” Carla said into the mic. “You’re right here in the madness.”

Cassie smirked. “That’s where the wolves run.”

“Tell me about the album,” Carla pressed.

Thane leaned in. “Twelve tracks, one message: no chains. No rules. Just the raw truth.”

Gabriel added, “Also? Fire. There might be fire.”

🔥 Speaking of Fire…

That night, the band lit a massive campfire and kicked off an impromptu acoustic set with half the campground packed around them. Guitars out, stripped-down harmonies, and a hell of a lot of off-key backup vocals from the crowd.

  • Gabriel howled the bridge of “Ashes and Iron” into the stars.
  • Cassie sang “Down the Line” so hard people were crying.
  • Jonah led a clap-along using nothing but tent stakes and a pot lid.

Then someone knocked over a torch. Sparks hit a cooler. A roll of paper towels lit up like a beacon.

“FIRE!” someone shouted.

Mark and Thane leapt into action — dumping soda, smothering flames, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the van.

Smoke billowed. People cheered. Gabriel raised his arms like he planned the whole thing.

“ROCKLAHOMA!” he bellowed into the smoke. “THE WOLVES HAVE LANDED!”

🌄 Morning Headlines

The next day, Feral Eclipse made the front page of the local news app.

“Newcomer Band Ignites Rocklahoma — Literally and Figuratively”
Campfire concert, surprise interview, crowd-surfing mayhem, and a minor fire drama make Feral Eclipse the name on everyone’s lips.

Another band—Vandal Saints—rolled into the area mid-morning, clearly annoyed. Their frontman looked at the banner, the crowd still hanging around the Eclipse camp, and muttered, “They better not play after us.”