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Daniel drove down the winding lane that led to his uncle’s home, his mother’s childhood home. The old farmhouse was set back from the road, nestled at the base of the mountains. It was a two-story home with a wrap-around porch and simple white siding. Its age was showing with the paint peeling in areas. The yard was overgrown. A lone car was parked in front of the house. He came to a stop and turned the engine off. Quiet settled around him. He didn’t want to be, but he was nervous. He’d tried calling his uncle with no luck. The man didn’t appear to have a listed number and had essentially no online footprint. His knowledge of his mother’s family had been a void until she finally shared the truth before she died. He’d had a year to absorb the fact he was a shifter, come to terms with the
