In January Peter throws a party in honor of Alias, cofounder of Earth Alliance, fresh from an anti-fracking action in Romania. Late Saturday night and barely thirty degrees outside, snow flurries evaporating in the halo of a bonfire lit in a field far out of town. The crowd clustered on canvas chairs and vegetable crates, Peter manning a table of kegs and pots of lethally hot vegan chili. Alias sits on the dirt near the fire, an arm wrapped around long legs, wary deep-set green eyes in a face so perfectly boned Xie imagines, for a moment, what it would look like stripped of its tanned skin. Xie and FKK sitting with a knot of girls everyone calls the Prima Zapatistas because they sell black knit masks inset with custom designs for exorbitant prices. He tries to drink his chili, sucking chunks of bell pepper from the lip of his cup, as Jo describes the protest at the university lab; someone had tipped off campus security and everyone was rounded up before they even got to the science hall, ordered to stay on the other side of an invisible line between the lab entrance and the street. Same old shit, one of the Zapatistas sneers, Peter’s actions are always super-weak. I heard you got a lot of signatures for the petition, though, Xie says, people didn’t even know what was going on in the labs and now they do. It’s not his fault the cops interfered. The Zapatistas exchanging a glance. Do you even know what’s going on there? Xie frowns, confused. What? The Zapatistas roll their eyes. Silence. Finally Jo scraping the heel of her boot in the dirt. Relax, people. Heavier snow falling outside the circle of the fire. Alias suddenly loping over; the Zapatistas sit up in unison as he tips his beer in Xie’s direction. You Xie? Um. Yeah. Alias nods. Glad to know you. Holding Xie’s gaze for a moment, shoulder cocked beneath his open jacket. Peter passing beer to FKK, Leni downing hers in three big gulps, moon-eyed while Jo fiddles with a stud on her bracelet. You get your license renewed? Alias asks, turning to Peter, who burps into his fist with a self-conscious smile. Yeah. Finally. License for what? Jo asks. Hunting, Peter says. Xie’s startled shoulders. What, Alias says, you’ve never heard of hunt disruption? No. You must not be from around here. Leni says, He’s from California. Then blushes. Ah. West Coast brother. Where out in Cali? L.A., Xie says. Alias stretching his legs toward the fire, nodding. Long sip of beer. Well, if you get a license you can go out wherever the hunters are, fire into the ground or whatever. Lets all the critters know they gotta clear out. You have to be careful, though. Sniffs. Guys find out you’re fucking their shot, your ass is toast. Xie glancing at Peter. You have a gun? I have three, Peter says. Grew up shooting. Jo winces. Jesus. You ever kill anything?