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This is the first chapter in a story about a wolf meeting his extended family for the first time and discovering his roots. If this does well, I'll write a second chapter that continues the story.

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It was two years ago that I received that fateful letter. I was living in a small apartment in the town of Glenwick Creek, along with my roommate Harris. We had met in our junior year college, and over the years he had taken me under his wing, so to speak. After we had gotten our degrees, we moved into the apartment together and began looking for real jobs. We didn't find any, however, and after a few months we decided to take an unofficial hiatus from job hunting and do something fun. The problem was that the cash Harris and I brought in from dead-end jobs was hardly enough to do anything super exciting, and most of the things that Harris had suggested as alternatives never really appealed to me. Road trips bored me, and I wasn't a fan of the long hikes through the forest he had a habit of dragging me on. Stifled by my unwillingness to go on "adventures" he eventually conceded to lounge about in peace. We watched movies, played video games, and I had even convinced him to try a bit of 1 player D&D.

I remember it was about six or so in the afternoon. I was reclined on the couch, playing some new video game that I had picked up a few days earlier. A bowl of synthetic jerky sat beside me, constituting my dinner since I didn't feel like cooking and Harris wasn't there. The dashing wolf on the TV screen mirrored me almost exactly, minus the glasses, the "Twilight Zone" t-shirt, the black jeans, and a few pounds of baby fat. He was hacking his way through hordes of minions with a sword taller than he was, spraying blood and ichor in a maelstrom of violence. With one mighty blow he sent a soldier ten feet up in the air, then as his quarry fell back to earth he cleanly sliced him in half. However, despite this display of brutal extravagance I was bored out of my mind. Isolation was taking its, toll, even on a devout introvert like me.

I heard the door to the apartment open, followed by the familiar sound of hooves on carpeted floor. Eager for the distraction, I paused the game and turned my attention to the elk walking in through the door. Harris had always been the more active of the two of us, and even stuck in the apartment with me he managed to stay in shape. At 5' 11" he was a few inches taller than me, which combined with his antlers made him always seem to tower over me when we stood side by side. His brown fur was flawless, accentuated by the flannel shirts he always wore. Occasionally I wondered how exactly the two of us had become friends: he looked like he'd stepped straight out of a folktale, while I looked like I moderated message boards online. He flopped down on the couch with a stack of letters in one hand and a beer in the other, then tossed the letters to one side as he turned to me.

"Hey, Tom."

"Hey."

"So, just been playing Divine Smite all day?" He cracked open the beer, then took a long swig from the can.

"Yeah, been trying to get past this one area for a while now. There's this one guy that you have to get a four-hit combo on to kill, but there's another enemy that-" I stopped when I saw his attention switch to his phone.

"Yeah, I don't know how you got so good at that game. I can't even get past the tutorial." He had tried it yesterday, but couldn't grasp the concept of rhythmic hack-n-slash combat. I guess he was just too used to twitch shooters.

I tried to shift the subject away from video games, focusing instead on the pile of mail he had brought in. "So, what'd we get?"

"Oh, right!" He took one last sip of beer before setting it down, then picked up the pile and started sorting through it. "Let's see...bills, more bills...ooh, a letter from Janey!" Janey was his girlfriend at the time, a petite little rabbit who never really saw eye to eye with me. Part of me knew she hated me for being a loser, and I couldn't blame her for that. What I could blame her for was the fact that there was another reason she didn't like having me around: she hated carnivores. Oh, sure, she kept it hidden most of the time, but I could tell from what slipped through the cracks that she despised anything with a mouth of sharp teeth. I think it had something to do with her getting attacked by some crackhead wolf when she was younger, combined with a healthy dose of country-style bigotry while she was growing up. Harris never noticed, though, and neither I nor Janey were willing to risk our own relationship with him by trying to cut the other loose.

Harris gave the letter a small kiss before setting it aside, then continued with the sorting. "More bills, some religious pamphlet..." I took it from him, reading the words "Armageddon is Coming!" before tossing it aside. "...job application, probably rejected...a notice from "Wizards of the Coast"?..." I quickly took the envelope from him, setting it aside carefully for later examination. "...one from grandma, and...hang on..." He held up a beige envelope, examining it a bit before handing it over. The letter was clearly addressed to me, but it used my mother's maiden name instead of my own last name: "Thomas Alexander Raubtier". I turned it over to find a red wax seal, the kind of thing that I thought went out of fashion around the industrial revolution. Imprinted on it was some kind of crest, with two daggers making a V at the bottom, a heart at the top, and a capital R in the middle. Something about it seemed weirdly familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

I looked over to see Harris gazing expectantly at me. When I didn't act, he said "Well, open it! It's got to be something interesting." He was probably right, but something held me back. This seemed a bit too interesting for someone like me, and it seemed like the kind of thing that could kick off a horror movie. Then again, anything would beat being bored out of my skull all day...

I popped open the letter, removing the wax seal with one claw and sliding out the paper contained within. As I unfolded it, the first thing I noticed was the impeccable cursive on the page. The writing flowed like a crystal clear river, the dark red ink forming graceful loops and hops across the page. It was also addressed to me, and as I began reading I leaned over so Harris could see.

Tom Raubtier,

I am writing to inform you that you are invited to the most honorable Raubtier family reunion. During this week-long event, you may take part in a great many festivities and games, as well as a tour of the historic seat of the noble Raubtier family line. Food and drink shall be provided, and if the number of guests is manageable lodging shall be provided as well. You are encouraged to bring up to three guests of any stature, and they shall be provided with similar accommodations upon arrival. There will be plenty of free time for sightseeing as well, as the town of Felborough has a great many historical attractions for those with a taste for antiquity. Please arrive at the manor no later than October 9th, 6 o'clock PM, as that is when the introductory banquet will be held.

With high regards,

Your grandmother,

Diana Raubtier

The bottom was stamped with the same seal that was on the envelope, with the words "Vida ex Sanguine" written below. By the time I had finished reading it, Harris was already on his phone looking something up.

"Looks like Felborough isn't far, maybe two hour's drive. The banquet's tomorrow, so it might not be a bad idea to head over there tonight."

I looked over at him with a shocked expression. "Who said we were going?"

"C'mon, it'll just be for a few days. It's a short drive with free food and stuff at the end, what's not to like? Plus, maybe you can get to see some extended family, huh?" When I still wasn't convinced, his enthusiasm turned to concern. "Oh, did something happen? You know, in your family?"

I let out a long sigh, then tried to explain to him what the situation was. "Well, I never really knew my mother's side of the family. She died when I was young, and my father never spoke to any of her relatives more than he had to. He always called them a bunch of pompous eccentrics, spoiled rich and obsessed with strange customs. Then, when I moved out, he lost his job and never really tried to stay in contact with me."

"All the more reason to go see them! They're your family, that's got to be worth something, right? What's the worst that could happen?" His optimism just refused to subside.

"Well, we could both get drugged and wake up in a ditch missing our kidneys. Or we could find out they're a cannibal cult and get killed to keep their secret. Or we could die in a car crash, or we could get mugged, or we could-"

"I'm being serious. This is the perfect little excursion. We won't be gone longer than a week, I promise. Just...try it, see if you like it. If it turns out they're a bunch of pompous dicks, we can get the hell out of there at a minute's notice."

Initially I was adamant about not going, and was about to firmly refuse when his words began to worm their way into my mind. Sitting around the apartment was boring me to tears, and staying put wasn't going to change that. I was in my prime, I should be out and about, not cooped up with a computer and a bag of chips. Dad was probably just bitter about the relatives having more money than him, given how petty he could be at times. They must have some redeeming qualities if they invited some long lost relative to their family gathering. And who knows, I might even end up in Diana's will if I played my cards right. With my mind settled, I delivered my verdict to Harris. "Alright, we can go."

He silently pumped his fist in the air before standing up. "Great, you won't regret it! Let's go get packed!"

"Now? But the first banquet isn't until tomorrow night!"

"Never hurts to be early! Plus it'd be nice to get the lay of the land before getting all caught up in family stuff." He walked off to his room, and after a few moments of grumbling I headed off to my own room. I didn't really have a suitcase, but I'd did have a duffle bag, and I spent the next ten minutes cramming it full of clothes, toiletries, and medications. I grabbed a few books off my shelf as well, just in case. As I zipped up the duffle bag I saw Harris heading out the door, trailing his own suitcase. I followed him out the door, making sure to lock it behind me.

Once outside, I began walking to my compact little car. It might not have been the flashiest thing on the face of the earth, but the second-hand hybrid had served me well through the years. I had just got my paw around the handle when I noticed Harris wasn't behind me. After a quick scan of the parking lot, I realized he was standing beside his own truck. It was a beast, a jet black pickup whose undercarriage stood a full foot off the ground. Harris always liked to call it a chick magnet, but I always thought of it as the overcompensation-mobile. He turned and saw me standing by my own car, then called to me across the parking lot. "C'mon Tom, we're not taking the hippie car on a road trip." I always hated that name, what was so hippy about having good gas mileage? I grudgingly shuffled over to his truck, tossing my bag in the backseat before climbing up into the passenger seat. My crossed arms and irritated expression did little to deter Harris, who brought the truck roaring to life with glee. We quickly drove out of the parking lot, beginning a journey that would change my life forever.

About an hour later, we were cruising through the woods on a fairly secluded one-lane road. The trees blocked out quite a bit of sunlight, giving the interior of the car a subtle green glow. Harris was bobbing his head to the pop rock emanating from the radio, and I was browsing the web on my phone.

"Hey, what'd ya find on the town?" His voice snapped me out of my browsing haze, and I opened a new tab so as to not disappointing. A quick google search brought up a website called felborough.net, and when I pulled it up I almost reflexively threw up in my mouth. The design was god awful, probably last updated in the 90's. It listed a few measly attractions, which looked lame as hell but would probably pique Harris's interest.

"Let's see...a hiking trail, a puppet theater, a meat packing plant, some mansion tours..."

I looked over to see a smile spreading across his face. "Awesome, I'd love to check out the hiking trails. What about hotels and stuff?"

"There's only one: "The Forester Inn". Doesn't have any yelp reviews, and it doesn't really seem like a 5 star kind of place." The few photos posted on the website showed a bland, cabin themed hotel. The one picture of a room looked reasonably clean, but they could have just tidied up for the photoshoot. It could be a good old-fashioned rural inn, but something told me that likely wasn't the case.

"Eh, even if it is a bit rural for your taste, I'm sure it's got character." I immediately thought of a snide remark comparing character and mold, but I held my tongue. I chose to come here, so I should at least try to enjoy this. Who knows, maybe my hunch was wrong, and what I considered to be lame would turn out to be quaint. If Harris could enjoy it, so could I.

My optimistic train of thought was interrupted by Harris tapping me on the shoulder. I looked up to see a rather scenic view of the small town. We were heading down a hill, and from its peak we could clearly see most of the buildings, from the tiny rustic gas station to the towering industrial packing plant. I could see the road cutting straight through the middle, branching off into a bunch of side streets and a single long drive. The long road led off to the left into the woods, and over the trees I thought I could just barely see a round lighted window. In the few seconds before it was obscured from view I figured that it must be the manor that the letter was talking about.

We descended into the town proper, looking around for the cheesy sign for the Forester Inn. The town itself didn't seem all that special, with a few little stores and a single apartment building. There weren't any franchises in sight: no McDonald's, no Starbucks, no Dutch Bros, nothing. I guessed I'd have to go to the local coffee shop if I wanted my morning jolt. I went back to browsing on my phone, only to find that the town didn't have a single bar of cell service. At first I was shocked, but after taking a quick look around I realized I should have expected it.

At last we pulled up to the Forester Inn parking lot, a patch of cracked asphalt in front of a dreary looking building with peeling paint and crumbling brickwork. The sign was the only new thing about it, a garrish thing with the tagline "The historic pride of Felborough!". Standing beside the bold red lettering was a cartoonish bear in typical lumberjack garb, with an axe over his shoulder and a smile that said, "Hey kids, come on in! You totally won't be disappointed that your deadbeat parents dragged you here for a 'vacation'!". Harris and I got out of the car, grabbing our bags out of the back before heading into the old fashioned (or simply ancient) reception building.

The dusty wood floors creaked under my feet, and as I looked around I realized that my previous optimism may have been misplaced. The walls didn't have peeling paint, but the bland white color gave the place an air of utter boredom. The tired old sheep who sat at the reception desk reinforced this theme, looking half asleep as she read some mystery novel from the last century. Once she heard someone enter she looked up, putting on a cheery air until she saw me. I tried not to make eye contact, focusing instead on the tacky 4-foot plastic model of the lumberjack bear that sat in the corner.

"Hi, I'd like a room for two, please!" Harris never seemed to notice people's distaste for me, he just kept on smiling and putting his best foot forward. For a moment I thought maybe I should try to be as mindlessly optimistic; it's what my therapist had recommended, after all.

The receptionist pulled out a fairly large book, swinging it open while clicking a pen. "Are you two a couple?"

"Heh, no, we aren't." He thought for a moment before jokingly adding "Unless there's a discount?"

She graced him with a small smile before turning to the pegboard of keys behind her. "Unfortunately not. It'll be sixty dollars for the first night, then fifty more for each night after that."

Harris quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and as he counted out the bills the sheep behind the counter shuffled over to the row of pegs that held all the keys. She took one off, then placed it down on the counter as she swiped the bills Harris had laid out. "You'll be staying in room 103. Have a nice day."

Harris took the key, and I was about to turn and leave when I noticed he was still leaning on the counter. "Hey, my friend and I are here for the Raubtier family reunion, do you know anything about it?"

The receptionist looked over at me, then back to Harris before replying. "N-no, but I do know that name. They own the meat packing plant, have since the town was founded." I thought that the glance she gave me might have been mere bigotry, but I sensed it was more. There was something peculiar in the way she froze up upon hearing that name, almost as if it had some terrible connotation that only a few knew about. It was subtle enough not to be noticed by someone like Harris, but plain enough for someone like me to pick up through a combination of insight and instinct.

"Oh, interesting. Well, thanks for the room!" Harris turned to leave, and I took it as a sign to follow him out. Part of me wanted to question that old sheep, to dig and pry and find out what exactly was so scary about the Raubtier family name, but my introvert tendencies drowned it out. The two of us walked across the parking lot to the building that housed all the rooms, and quickly found our way to room 103. Harris swung the door open, revealing a room that he would probably call cozy.

There were two twin-sized beds on the left side of the room, each covered by a few neatly folded sheets. To the right there was a small desk topped with an landline phone and a lamp, both of which couldn't be less than 20 years old. Directly in front of the beds was a TV on a simple wooden stand, and on top of that was a dusty little remote. The striped wallpaper wasn't too garish, with a simple beige stripe pattern that wasn't peeling off the wall. Harris walked in first and tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door. I placed my bag at the foot of the far bed before flopping down onto it.

"Woah, going to bed already? It's only 8, what's got you so tuckered out?" Harris was sitting on his own bed, looking at me with pity.

"I'm just not really up for any adventuring tonight, okay?"

"C'mon, let's go get some dinner, I'm starving." He was up on his feet again, tucking the room key into his pocket like he was going somewhere.

"I already had dinner." I whined. "It's your truck, just go without me."

He walked over to the foot of my bed and stood over me with his arms crossed. "Tom, you're here to have fun, even if I have to make you. We came here to get out of a two bed apartment, not stay cooped up in one. It'll just be a quick little trip, I promise."

"Fine." I rolled off the side of the bed, grudgingly getting to my feet. Harris trotted out to his truck, and I shuffled along behind him. I had plenty of doubts about finding something good to eat, seeing as how I was a carnivore in a herbivore-dominant town. But Harris was insistent as always, and I wasn't about to fight him on it. Who knows, I thought, maybe this town's restaurants could have the best steaks ever hidden in plain sight.

By the time I had gotten in the truck, Harris had already pulled up a restaurant on his phone, setting it to read GPS directions aloud. After a few turns and a single red light, we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Right off the bat my hopes were dented, as the verdant green sign proudly declared the restaurant to be "The Azure Garden". I tried to convince myself that this was fine, that they probably had a few good meals for carnivores just out of courtesy. Besides the sign the restaurant looked small if fairly tasteful, with a few outdoor tables below an ivy covered canopy. We stepped inside, taking in the floral arrangements that dotted the various tables. Most of them had blue flowers of a hue that matched the sky murals on the walls, as well as the restaurant's name. We were greeted by a rather perky doe, who became a bit less perky as soon as she laid eyes on me. As soon as she caught me looking at her, though, she quickly rebuilt her demeanor, turning cheerfully to address Harris.

"Hi, welcome to the Azure Garden, how can I help you this evening?"

"Hi, table for two please." Again, Harris seemed blind to the glances I always got. Nothing ever got him down, but then again there wasn't much to get him down in the first place. We followed the waitress to our table, taking a seat in comfy wicker chairs. She passed out menus to both of us, and I opened mine to find a page full of green.

There wasn't anything I would consider to be me-friendly, just page after page of salads and other greens. There wasn't a single ounce of synthetic meat to be seen, despite the fact that they were literally four blocks down from a meat-packing plant.

"Excuse me, ma'am, do have a carnivore menu I could see?" She just looked at me like a deer in headlights. "You know, something with meat?"

"M-meat?" She shifted her grip on her notepad, holding it in front of her chest like it would protect her from my inevitable attack.

"Yeah, the synthetic stuff. Like they have down at the packing plant?"

She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, before realizing I was still looking at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll get it right away." She scurried off to get what I asked for, letting me take a look around the restaurant. Only one of the seven other guests was staring, and he averted his gaze as soon as we made eye contact. I wasn't all that surprised, however; given the waitress's reaction alone, one could have assumed I had just asked to eat her firstborn child. Harris was busy browsing the menu, and looked up right as I looked at him.

"What?" I realized I looked somewhere between depressed and paranoid, so I quickly buried my head in the menu. "Tom, what's wrong?"

What was I supposed to say? You dragged me to a hick town in the middle of nowhere where everyone hates wolves and the food is probably crap? Y'know, you've been ignorant of all the people staring at me behind my back, allow me to enlighten you? Your bitch girlfriend hates my guts just like the rest of these assholes, and has been trying to get you to dump me ever since you first met her? No, no, I thought to myself, I couldn't make a scene. I should try to not stick out more that I have to, just so I don't get arrested by bigoted cops again because I've "gone feral". I just needed to sit tight and shut up. "Nothing, I'm fine."

The waitress finally got back, placing glasses of water in front of both of us and sliding a paper menu in front of me. "So, what would you like?"

"I'll have the Azure Star Special, please." Harris handed the menu back to the server before turning to me.

I quickly went over the two options on my own paper menu: chicken strips or fish and chips. Given that I wasn't five years old, it was pretty obvious what my choice was. "I'll have the fish and chips." I handed her my own main menu, which she snatched from my grasp.

"Alright, I'll have your food out shortly!" She hurried off back towards the kitchen, and once she was gone I crumpled up the paper menu and set it aside.

I looked back over at Harris to see him resting his chin on one hoof, gazing dreamily off toward the waitress. Probably staring at her ass, I thought, even though he already has a girlfriend. Maybe he would dump Janey and trade one wolf-hating bitch for another, staying so merrily ignorant all the while. Maybe he could have both, and once they got to know each other they'd finally convince him to kick me out. Just toss me out of the apartment, take my stuff, leave me on the sidewalk with nothing but the clothes on my back. I thought that if that happened, maybe I should just go feral, just throw sanity to the wind and rip them apart with tooth and claw. The fantasy flashed through my mind; that would show them, get back at them...no no no no. My mind went back to my therapist, how he had talked to me about coping strategies, weather the storm. Just sit still, pretend you're happy, and soon enough all your problems will go away.

"Damn she's fine. Right, Tom?" Harris's comment snapped me out of my own head. I looked up to see him staring expectantly, waiting for me to agree like I always did.

"Yeah, sure. Real fine." I raised the glass of water to my lips, the cold liquid helping me root myself in reality. Nothing horrible was going to happen, and hey, it could only get better from here. Plus, tomorrow I'd be dining with my own kind, a whole family of wolves. If they didn't have a good taste in meats, I didn't know who would.

"So, what do you want to do tomorrow? Hiking? Tours? Maybe go visit that meat packing plant your family owns?" At least Harris didn't hate me. Sure, he was always a bit bummed that I wouldn't or couldn't do stuff with him, but he always tried his best. I could count on him to not stab me in the back, unlike a few other elk I had known.

"You know, maybe a tour wouldn't be so bad." I took another sip of the ice water, my mind beginning to stray toward thoughts of family. What would they be like, these relatives I had never known? Would they accept me? Ignore me? Pick on me? Probably the former, if they cared enough to send me a handwritten letter. Dad always said they were eccentric, but eccentric how? Were they art connoisseurs? Foodies? Torture enthusiasts? I grinned a bit at that last thought, imagining a familial cult of sadists. Sorry, Harris, guess you're tonight's entertainment! Go stand on those hot coals while we throw knives at you.

"What's so funny?" Harris was looking at me with a grin of his own, more out of empathy than interest.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking of tomorrow."

"Yeah, I can't wait to hit the trails. You know-" He was interrupted by the waitress coming back with our food. His meal looked absolutely divine, topped with a blue flower that matched the various floral arrangements. Mine looked like it had come from a second-rate fast food joint. We both dug into our meals, Harris gathering up leaves on his fork while I tried to dip crumbling fish in tartar sauce. Despite the poor quality food on my plate I rather enjoyed the meal, and Harris's enthusiasm concerning the hiking trails around the town became rather infectious. I smiled along as he described all the wonderful scenery we would see, all the while internally fantasising about the family I had never known. When we finally got back to the inn I went straight to bed, flopping onto the mattress without even removing my pants. My mind quickly drifted off into the haze of sleep, and while Harris began to get out his toothbrush my brain began conjuring all sorts of wondrous visions of the events to come.