His father approached more slowly, his imposing frame showing few signs of age despite turning sixty. Leland Kincaid carried himself with the natural authority of an alpha bear shifter, tempered by years of business acumen.
“Son,” he said simply, extending his hand.
Henry shook it firmly. “Happy birthday, Dad.”
The brief moment of connection was immediately swallowed by the tide of relatives surging forward to greet him. Uncle Buck and his wife Maria welcomed him warmly, while Uncle Jessie and his fox shifter wife Dana teased him about “emerging from hibernation.” Even Uncle Cyrus, almost as much a recluse as Henry, offered an understanding nod from his position against the far wall, his wife Daisy subtly refilling his drink as if providing liquid courage for the social occasion.
“Henry,” squealed a voice, and suddenly his cousin Joy was hugging him tightly. Buck and Maria’s daughter had always adored him, despite his standoffish nature. “I can’t believe you actually came out of your cave.”
“It’s a cabin,” he corrected automatically, awkwardly returning her hug before extracting himself.
The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur of greetings, unwanted physical contact, and questions about his work and life that he deflected with practiced brevity. By the time his mother announced dinner, Henry’s shoulders were hunched with tension, his responses reduced to single words whenever possible.
The massive dining table groaned under platters of food. Henry found himself wedged between Joy and his cousin Emma, Jessie and Dana’s daughter, with little hope of quiet or escape.
“So how’s the ranger service these days?” Uncle Buck asked from across the table, his booming voice carrying over the general conversation.
Henry swallowed his bite of roast beef. “Busy.”
“That’s it? Busy?” Logan prodded, smirking. “No exciting tales of bear heroism to share with the family?”
“Just routine patrols. Fire prevention. The usual.”
“Speaking of fire prevention,” Uncle Buck continued, “Did you hear about the strange business over at the Hampton Orchard last year? Some kind of ecological sabotage?”
Henry’s interest piqued despite himself. “What happened?”
“Several cases of deliberate fire-setting,” Buck explained, gesturing with his fork. “Arsonists setting blazes at the edge of the apple orchard. Could have destroyed the whole place if they hadn’t contained it quickly.”
“And don’t forget the water issues at the Fate Mountain Brewery,” added Uncle Jessie.
Henry frowned, his mind churning with these new pieces of information. Forest fires. Water contamination. Both incidents targeting the mountain’s natural resources.
“Sounds like someone has a grudge against Fate Mountain,” he said.
Logan leaned forward, suddenly interested in Henry’s perspective. “You think these are connected? The forest service investigating?”
Henry hesitated, wrestling with whether to share what he’d found at the construction site. Before he could decide, his father spoke.
“Land use board got briefed on some of these incidents,” Leland said, his tone measured. “Nothing conclusive, but there’s concern about outside interests trying to destabilize local operations.”
“Could affect our timber management if it spreads,” Buck added, concern etching lines around his eyes. “We’ve doubled security around our active harvest areas.”
Henry mentally filed away this information, resolving to look deeper into these patterns. His family might find him antisocial, but they respected his knowledge of the mountain and its ecosystems. He’d been aware of the strange events at Fate Mountain Wilderness Academy last summer. If someone was systematically targeting Fate Mountain, his ranger position might provide a unique vantage point to connect the dots.
After dinner came the inevitable gift presentation. Leland opened each present with understated appreciation. Henry’s contribution, a handcrafted leather belt with subtle bear claw imagery tooled into the design, earned a nod of approval.
“Fine craftsmanship,” his father acknowledged, running a thumb over the detailed work. “Thank you, son.”
Just as Henry began to relax, thinking the worst of the evening was behind him, his mother stood with a suspicious smile.
“And now,” Sylvia announced, “we have a special gift for Henry.”
His stomach dropped as Joy bounced excitedly beside him, producing a small, wrapped box.
“Since you refuse to join the twenty-first century,” his mother continued, “we decided to give you a gentle push.”
Henry unwrapped the package with mounting dread, revealing exactly what he feared. A sleek, modern smartphone gleamed up at him from its pristine packaging. He stared at it as if it were a venomous snake.
