In the backyard, there is a dais set up. Kingston walks me to the edge of a runner and kisses my forehead before, pushing me forward by the small of my back. People are seated in a semi-circle around the stage. In the center of the dais, there is a small table, with candles in a circle placed around a bowl in the middle of it. Three women are chanting in a low rhythmic tone, that has a distinctive Native American sound to it. Like a song dedicated to nature, that should have the thrum of drums accompanying it, something about it seems wrong in this setting.
“We wolves who have wandered the untamed lands, now unite under the banner of Full Howl, embracing a new path in harmony and strength.” An older man in front began speaking as I walk up. His voice loud over the melodic chanting. “We ar
