Hendrix POV
Montana is beautiful. It's beyond anything I've ever seen in my life, it definitely beats the blue ridge ranges I loved in Virginia. The peaks are so big, demanding of my attention. I openly marvel at all the sights. The trees, the mountain tops dusted with snow. It's all perfect. When we pull into the pack, I'm shocked we're already here.
The ride to the entrance is a long, dirt road. I've been assured that it's safe here, and the land is privately owned. The locals apparently think that it's either a Native American reserve or a cult. I'm not surprised. It's in the middle of nowhere.
We come to an enormous, brass gate. My eyes widen as Savannah rolls down her window to speak to the guy at the front. The gate connects to a tall fence, taller than any person. It keeps going on either side. I assume it goes around the whole territory, which encompasses over 200 acres of land.