Dawson
“You look well, I must say son. Better than I’ve seen you in…well, maybe better than I’ve ever seen you.”
I chuckled, sinking into the chair my uncle offered me, across from his desk in his office. The space resembled a cave when you first walked in, looming bookshelves illuminated by oil lamps, warm wood tables and leather furniture. But the back half, where my uncle’s desk was, was almost entirely made of glass, so clear it was like we were sitting outside under the stars. The floor was stone, made smooth by generations of Alpha’s pacing. A thick carpet that looked like some kind of animal skin covered the rocky floor surrounding my uncle’s desk. Only the reflection of the fireplace in the windows, and the warm coziness of the room reminded me that we
