Daniel stepped off the plane onto the unpaved strip that was a hard-packed crusher run covered in short grass. He enjoyed the familiar buzz of insects, the wind whispering among the leaves, and the distant sound of a mountain creek, all welcoming him home.
A local farmer owned the strip. Somewhere along his family tree was a great-uncle who was a werewolf, and the pack had been close to his family for a few decades now. He was standing next to another man by a white, unmarked Tahoe, and Daniel made a beeline for them.
"Good to see you, Daniel," the farmer greeted him, nodding.
"Jim, likewise," Daniel replied as he nodded in return. "Thanks for letting us through on short notice, this is a quick trip."
"Anytime," Jim waved.
"Will you be joining us for the barbecue and run tonight?" Dan
