Finding Where You Belong

Be me
Be teen
Be Grand dad's favorite grandson
Hang out with grand dad whenever I can
Old man is tough as nails and in great shape
Takes me hiking, camping, hunting, all innawoods
Ask him one day what happened to grand mom?
"She went home."
Take it as a euphamism for "she died", drop the subject like hot potatoe.
Years roll by. Getting ready to graduate highschool. Notice gramps has been a bit off for a few months.
After graduation, gramps takes me aside.
"Anon. I'm going to tell you something, and I don't want you to tell your parents. They won't understand like you do. Doctors tell me I've got a condition. Like dementia, but it's a bit worse than that. I'm not going to be around much longer and there's something I want you to have."
Getting choked up. Silent tears. Hug grandpa and follow him to his old pick up.

Gramps gives me an ornate box. Puzzle box.
"What's inside is important. But you have to figure out the box." Can actually hear the underline in his voice.
Manly hugs. Tears. "Gonna miss you."
"Going to miss you too Anon. You're a good kid. You'll do right."
Start working on solving box.
Holy shit this thing is intricate. Black wood. Engravings. Silver inlays. Recognize viking runes.
Translate
Kind of brutal poem, basically box will only open under a full moon.
Say what? Figure there must be a timer/electronic lock that will only let the mechanisms move on the full moon.
Weird, but full moon is in a couple days anyway.
Amazed at craftmanship of box. Tiny panels. Almost seemless construction.
Start trying to work at it when observatory app says moon is full.
Nothing.
Wait five minutes and try again.
Nothing.
Broken box? Try taking it outside to be literally under light of the full moon.
Panel moves.
NowI'mcreepedout.jpg
Take it back inside.
Panel slides back in place and doesn't move.
Creeped out but also way more curious.
Outside. Slide panels. Push buttons. Engravings align. A black and silver wolf is revealed and the box spills its contents.
A topographical map. A deed to land in your name. A note from Gramps.
"Anon, by the time you read this I'll have embarked on my last journy. I'm going to see your grandmother one last time. I'm going home to the land that is now yours. Come visit. There is priceless treasure here."

Not really sure what he means. But the map is easy enough to read.
Look up longitude and latitude.
Northeast corner of Vermont.
They call it the Lost Kingdom.
In the middle of the middle of nowhere.
Gonna have to hike in. Good thing gramps made sure you knew how to do that.
Cover story for mom and dad
It's 500 miles give or take. A long drive in your first car; a beat up old Jeep. But it makes the trip. It even navigates what's left of an old logging road to get you that much closer to your property.
Your property. It's a weird thought.
And what's the treasure gramps?
It's a three day hike.
The entire time you feel like you're being watched. It's spooky as hell. And you never get used to it.
On the other hand you don't encounter any bear or cougars.
It's about lunch time on the third day when you spot the cabin. As you walk up to it you see your gramps reading a book in a rocking chair. He's like something out of a painting and it looks like he's been there his whole life.

You call out to your gramps.
He smiles and gets out of his chair to meet you in front of the cabin. He doesn't look even a tiny bit surprised.
"Anon! Knew you'd make it. You're a good kid."
Want to ask all kinds of questions, but too happy at the moment. Just hug the old man, glad he's still alive.
He walks you inside. There's an old woman tending to something on the top of a wood burning stove.
She has silver/blonde hair. Not old silver, proper silver. She turns around when you and gramps come inside.
Her eyes are a striking blue. They're also a little annoyed when they see you. She harumphs, digs in her pocket, and hands something to your gramps that looks like a gold coin.
Her voice is smokey. "You win."
You look to gramps and he looks downright smug. "Knew I would."
You both sit down at a table, and you're finally able to ask the old man just what the heck is up.
infodump.webm
Turns out your dad was adopted by your grand dad. He doesn't know, but grand dad considers him family. He considers you closer than that; you're blood.
This is grand dad's family land. The deed is fake. He apologizes for lying about it. But he needed you here, to meet the rest of his blood family.
You notice tremors in his hands. He shrugs them off. He's got a couple years left before he dies, and he wants to spend them here, and to die here.
The old woman is grand mom, his mate.
"You mean wife?"
"I know what I said."
You shrug it off. He did say dementia before.
"So what about this treasure?"
"Family. I think you belong in it. I think they think you do to, or you wouldn't have made it here."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Go back out front. They're waiting."
Things just keep getting weirder.

You open the door and step out onto the porch, only to stop dead in your tracks with one foot in the cabin and the other out.
In front of you there's an entire wolf pack. At least a dozen of them. Standing silently. Every eye is on you.
Your adrenaline spikes. Your heart slams in your chest. Your legs feel watery and weak. The part of you that isn't terrified notes that they're gorgeous animals that look to be in peak physical condition.
And even as the concept of animals crosses your mind, they cease to be that.
At some signal you don't notice, and in perfect unison, they change shape.
Where once stood wolves there now stand human beings. Naked human beings. Men, women, and a couple teens.
A familiar hand is on your shoulder, and somehow you don't jump.
"This is your family Anon. This is where you belong. Welcome home."
In your heart you know he's right. It doesn't even occur to you to contradict the words.

About three weeks later.
Full moon.
Cool summer breeze.
Surrounded by wolves in clearing.
Swore an oath by blood on a rock stained with generations of oaths. A stone that had no earthly companion within a hundred miles, that stood upright and ancient as if it had seen the birth of the world itself.
Every adult member of your new family comes up to you, as a wolf, and bites but does not break skin.
Until the last, your grand mother comes, and takes your thigh in her jaws and bites, piercing skin and letting blood flow in tiny rivulets that look black under the light of the full moon.
When they touch earth, something flows back up through them.
Like fire and ice water it takes hold of you, paralyzes you, judges you, then lets you go.
And as you fall to the ground it isn't onto knees and hands, but paws.
The pack grows.
And you hunt.
Together.