Greykin Mountain

| 15 | Family

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"Why did Wilson come out here?" Damon asked, handing Jackson one of the squirrels that had been cooking over the fire.

          Taking the charred creature from him, Jackson shrugged. "Same reason everyone else did. Well...everyone except the first guy. He came out here looking for wolf walkers, then everyone else came looking for him because they thought wolf walkers were responsible for his disappearance." He glanced over at Damon as he sat beside him. "Thanks," he mumbled, looking down at his food.

          "You sure that's the reason?" he asked skeptically. "They could have been hunters looking for my people—you could be a hunter."

          "I'm not a hunter," he said with a frown, looking over at him.

          Damon looked him up and down for a moment...but then took a bite of his own squirrel. "Dawnward doesn't sound all that great. Bury disappearances, letting people like you follow people like Wilson. Do you not find that the least bit suspicious?"

          "Of course I do. That's why I wanna find them so bad. Not only do they deserve someone who actually gives a shit, but people deserve the truth, too. I'll find out why Dawnward seems to want to forget them."

          "Why? You don't owe them anything. Except maybe Wilson."

         "I told you. I know what it feels like to be dismissed and treated like you don't matter. If it were me, I'd want someone to give a crap—I'd want someone to come looking for me and the reason why no one cared." He huffed irritably, glaring down at the snow. "Wilson and I are all each other had. I can't leave him out here."

          "You said he had an uncle. Do you have a family?"

          Family. That word brought a taste worse than the chargrilled squirrel to his mouth. "Had," he uttered.

          "What happened to them?"

          Jackson picked at his food with his fingers, an array of haunting, dismaying memories flooding into both his head and heart. He didn't want to talk about it, but not only did he not want to lose the opportunity to have another conversation with Damon, but he also wanted to know more about him. To do that, he probably needed to answer some of Damon's questions now.

          He sighed quietly, peeling off some of the squirrel's burned skin. "My mom worked in a diner in Wroekstead, the tiny little town I grew up in. I didn't really know my dad, though. Mom said he was a mechanic, but he died when I was two. When I was ten, she met some rich businessman, and long story short, they got married and had a son.

          "My mom always made sure I knew I was loved, though. She didn't shove me aside for my half-brother, even when Eric—her new husband—tried to convince her to do so. And then she died. Eric said it was a car crash, wouldn't let me see her." He exhaled deeply, his throat tightening as sadness enthralled his heart. "After that, Eric and my half-brother kinda just...pushed me aside, treated me like I had the plague. I didn't want to deal with it anymore, so Wilson and I left the same day we finished college and didn't look back."

          "Why did Eric treat you like that?"

          "Because I wasn't his son. And you know how these rich assholes are these days. If the kid ain't theirs, they don't care—pure bloodlines and all that." He looked over at Damon, but a perturbed frown clung to his face. "A lot of people care far too much about family names and whatever else."