Sangay Glass's Blog - Posts Tagged "wild"

image: Trust. It’s the glue holding human relationships together, but in Candice’s world, it’s a loaded weapon.

Trust can be a lifeline—or a noose. It can offer safety, or it can lure you into a trap with no way out.

At the heart of this story lies an age-old question: How much do we really want to know about the people we let in?

Enter the Bluebeard twist.

For those unfamiliar, Bluebeard is an old fairy tale about a man who offers his new bride, all his riches without restraint and the keys to his castle—but warns her never to open one specific door. Of course, she does. Inside, she finds the bodies of his murdered wives. Her curiosity nearly costs her life. The story is a cautionary tale about disobedience, about trust, about how sometimes the truth is far worse than the lie we tell ourselves.

Now, think about Candice.

She isn’t a naive fairy tale wife. She knows monsters exist—she’s faced them her entire life. But she holds the key this time. And she has to decide: does she open the door? Does she ask the hard questions? Does she push to truly know the man walking beside her in the dark?

Randal. The unreliable ally. The one with secrets of his own offers her his loyalty and protection. She needs him, but she doesn’t fully trust him. And how could she? She’s learned that trust is dangerous. Fatal, even. But without it, she’s alone.

That’s the tension that carries through her version of Bluebeard. She is both the woman with the key and the one behind the locked door. She knows what happens to girls who ask the wrong questions—but she also knows what happens to girls who don’t.

So, the real question is: If you were Candice, would you turn the key?

And if you did… would you be prepared to face what’s inside?Trust. It’s the glue holding human relationships together, but in Candice’s world, it’s a loaded weapon.

From Jess’s Journal: Wolves with Bows

People love to slap human emotions onto wild animals.

Wolves get it the worst. One minute they’re soulmates howling at the moon. The next, they’re bloodthirsty demons dragging children into the dark.

Pick a fairy tale. Either way, they’re not allowed to just be wolves.

Here’s the thing; the stories somewhat help.

The cute wolf cub with the tragic eyes gets donations. The noble pack leader who sacrifices himself for the good of the group? He gets a documentary. And maybe, just maybe, someone votes to protect their habitat.

But there’s a cost.

When we make wolves too human, we stop seeing what they are. They don’t live by morals. They don’t have revenge plots. They’re not here to teach us life lessons. They’re just trying to survive, like they’ve always done, through teeth, timing, and terrain.

And when they get too familiar, people start expecting them to behave.

To stay where they’re told.
To not eat the calf someone left unguarded.
To act grateful for being allowed to exist.

Wolves don’t do gratitude. They do balance.
And they’re damn good at it, if we’d just get out of the way.

So yeah, anthropomorphism gets people to care.
But if we’re not careful, it also gets wolves killed.

Let them be wolves.

Want to know what happens when science and story collide in the woods? Read We Were Meant to Be Wolves. Coming July 25th! Follow me for updates and free books.

Some things aren’t meant to be explained, just carried.
Like secrets folded into bone. Like songs only the wild can hear.

I’ve walked far. Farther than most would, chasing something I couldn’t name. But I’ve learned I wasn’t chasing anything at all. I was delivering.

The pup is a promise. Not to me, but through me.

My role isn’t to claim it or keep it. My role is to whisper its promise into the right ears. To speak the language of scent and stillness until the message is understood.

It's with hope that I breathe out the word: coexistence.

Because life will continue, changed but deterred.

There’s power in what survives. Even more in what chooses to keep going.

So I walk. And when the wind shifts, I listen. Waiting for the next whisper.

Set in the remote Adirondacks, where wolves have returned after a century-long absence, The Wolfer's Daughter is a chilling and darkly humorous story rooted in real-world conservation, identity, and the blurry lines between what we love and what we fear.

The Wolfer's Daughter: A Story of Resurrection and Reckoning in the Adirondacks