"Daniel!"

My mother's voice burst into my thoughts. The sun was low in the sky. I was late for dinner.

Again.

"Coming!" I answered. The trees behind our house shook in the wind as if laughing at the scolding I was sure to get. I ran up to the porch of our small two-bedroom house and grinned sheepishly at my mom.

"Daniel Stratton, this is the third time this week you've forgotten dinner. What are you doing back there?" she asked, a frown on her face but a sparkle in her eye. I knew she wasn't really mad.

"Just drawing," I replied, raising up the sketchbook I held in my grasp.

"Well, your father and I want to talk to you." Uh-oh. This couldn't be good. I brushed my wet hair out of my eyes.

"What's up, Mom?" I asked innocently, following her into the living room. Surely they weren't that upset over dinner, were they? My dad was sitting in his favorite chair, scribbling on a notepad. He was probably jotting down notes for his next book.

"Honey," my mom muttered. Dad didn't look up. "Ellis," she said sharply, finally getting his attention.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, his eyes refocusing. When Dad got into a story, it was hard to pull his brain back down to earth. "Dan, where have you been? You missed dinner again." He looked at me sternly.

"Um, I was just in the woods behind the house, drawing. Is there some kind of problem?"

"No, we just wanted to tell you something," Mom said sitting next to me on the couch.

"Okay," I said warily.

"Well, you remember your grandfather, right?" she asked.

"Um, yeah. Didn't he die?"

Mom shot me a look. "Dan, you have more than one grandfather. I meant the one who lives in Washington."

Oh. Oh no. I knew where this was going. The love story. How my parents met in Forks because of a book. I'd heard it a million times, how they wanted to go back so badly. They were probably going there on some long vacation and leaving me here alone with nothing to do.

"We're sending you to stay with him in Forks over the summer."

Wait, where was this going?!

"You're almost eighteen and never go anywhere. We're hoping this will be a memorable experience for you."

"But you're not going?" I asked, a shocked expression on my face. It was all Mom ever talked about when she was feeling sentimental.

"Alex, why aren't we going?" my father asked with a teasing expression on his face. She shook her head in mock exasperation.

"Dan, you want to go, right?" said Mom, a worried look in her eye. She must have this already arranged.

"Of course," I replied. And I really did. Who knew what could happen? I was seventeen and had never been out of Iowa. I'd always dreamed of adventure, but never really thought it could happen to me. I became restless as I thought about the untold possibilities of this trip.

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Three days later, I was pulling up into the driveway of a small white house that seemed to be in the middle of its own forest. Grandfather was sitting on the front porch waiting for me. I'd never met him, and I was somewhat nervous. As I closed the door to the rental truck, he came and looked me over.

"So we finally get to meet, Daniel," he said, shaking my hand firmly.

"Hello, Grandfather," I replied. He was a tall man with a strong build. His face was one that suggested a kindness beyond any I've ever seen before. I could tell that my father didn't get his good looks from Grandfather, though.

"You don't have a lot of bags," he said, looking in the car.

"No sir, I don't need much."

"That's fine." Grandfather shook his head with approval. "Stay outside a lot, do you?"

"Yes."

"Good, good. Do you have a phone that you're talking on all the time?"

I dug into my pocket. "I have a cell phone for calling people to let them know where I am, but no more than that."

"Well, that's fine." He started to reach for my luggage.

"Let me carry that," I insisted. Grandfather chuckled.

"So Daniel, what do you like to do?" he asked as we walked to the house.

"Well, I sit out in the woods behind our house and draw a lot. I also write sometimes."

"Ah, you're the artistic type like your dad, huh? Knew it'd run in the family. That boy's always had talent." Grandfather opened the door for me as I lugged my suitcase through the door. Other than the bag of drawing supplies hanging from my arm, it was all I had.

I stopped and looked around his house. Mostly it was one room, with the kitchen open to the living room. Two doors led to what I supposed were the bedrooms. The furniture was mostly normal, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. Not even a moose head over a fireplace.

Grandfather gestured to one of the doors. I assumed it was my room.

I pushed it open and was immediately stunned. It was normal enough as rooms go, but there was a huge window that took up half the wall and a seat under it full of plush cushions that were any reader's dream. The view astonished me. The entire back of the house was built on a sloping hill with a balcony that stretched out from the master bedroom. The landscape opened up into a small valley where a river wound its way through the pine trees. The setting sun cast ruby glints on the water, setting the world's coloring ablaze.

"You forgot to close your mouth, son," Grandfather said softly, walking up behind me.

"It's amazing," I whispered.

"Can't tell from the front of the house, can you?" he asked. I simply shook my head. "Well, I'll leave you to unpack your things." The door closed. I set my luggage in a corner and rummaged through it for my notebook.

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Later on, as I was finishing my sketch of the landscape, the doorbell rang.

Grandfather will get it, I thought. I was comfortable on the thickly-cushioned window seat.

"Daniel! Come here, there's someone I want you to meet." Grandfather's voice came drifting through the house.

I was vaguely curious, so I went out to the main room. Grandfather stood with his back to me, and the visitor was hidden. A light, airy voice murmured something and my grandfather turned around.

"Ah, Daniel. This is Skye Clearwater." Grandfather said, moving a bit to the left. A girl of about fifteen or sixteen was standing there, staring right back at me. She was beautiful. Her skin was a russet color and her sleek black hair fell straight down her back. She had a perfect face that was slender and feminine, yet sturdy. Her figure was slim and strong. What struck me the most about her was her eyes. They were a dark green that seemed endless.

Suddenly, I felt my mind snap. Everything that kept me rooted to the earth was being torn away like delicate spider webs and steel cables were attaching themselves to me in their place. At least that's what it seemed like. This girl standing in front of me was the only tie I had left in this world, and everything else now seemed unimportant. Everything.

And then the heat hit me. Waves and waves of heat swept over my body, and my vision turned red. I hit the floor but didn't feel it. I just felt the fire in my limbs, everywhere. It was worse than a desert at noon, even worse than being on the surface of the sun. My blood boiled in my veins and I let out a howl of pain. It wouldn't stop. The fire kept spreading and growing. I was going insane and the pain was all that existed.

I needed to hold on to myself. I was slipping away. Skye. The sweet name rang through my head. Her face appeared in front of me. Skye. Think of her. That will help.

I swiftly realized that it wasn't me who thought that. I was going insane and now hearing voices.

No, you're not going insane. The voice said. You're going through a transformation. You are going to live.

That didn't cheer me up. I just wanted to die so the pain would end. Think of Skye. It will help. Though it's puzzling as to why you imprinted before the change, and not after. The voice was not making sense to me. It needed to say something I understood. We're all a bit confused at this point, but basically you're becoming a werewolf.

Werewolf. No, impossible. Me, Daniel Stratton? A werewolf?