US Route 101 isn't called the Pacific Highway for nothing.<br/><br/>Starting in the City of Angels, US Route 101 cuts through California, Oregon, and Washington before finally ending in the city of Turnwater, a center of trade and art located in the northwest part of the westernmost state of the continental USA.  Along it's entire 1,540 mile length, US Route 101 is never more than 30 miles from the Pacific Ocean.  The largest body of water on Earth can be seen from over 75% of the highway.<br/><br/>In Washington, the 'ol one-oh-one snakes up the western edge of the state, only hugging the coast for a brief 12 mile stretch in Jefferson County.  This is one of the most scenic spots in America, and also one of the least populated.  However, approximately seven miles north-northwest from where US Route 101 peels away from Washington's coastline, a small community had taken root.<br/><br/>Ashvale was founded in 1889 by a group of loggers and their families, many of whom were from Seattle.  Rich barely remembered the way it had looked all those years ago.  The ground for ten acres had been full of stumps, and there was a massive collection of felled trees lying on the ground at the edge of the clearing.  He recalled his mother's hand, pointing to his father as he worked to split the trees into a usable size.  Joseph Leary had been a bear of a man, and his sharp axe sliced through the dense wood as if it were butter.<br/><br/>Rich sighed, wondering again why he had come out here to his childhood home.  120 years later, Ashvale still stood, now a fair-sized town nestled amongst the dense forests and rolling hills of western Jefferson County.  It had a bank, and a bar, and three hundred or so houses clumped around a few ancient streets covered in fresh asphalt.  The sickening smell pf the petroleum byproduct had completely obliterated the strong scent of pine trees that Rich had for so long associated with Ashvale.<br/><br/>Narrowing his eyes, he spun the wheel of his pickup truck to the right, turning onto the two-lane street that connected Ashvale with the rest of the world.  He stamped on the accelerator and headed home.<br/><br/>*   *   *<br/><br/>Arm hanging out the window, Rich skirted the edge of Aberdeen.  The town wasn't nearly as old as Ashvale, but it was much larger.  Nearly 17,000 people lived in and around the "Gateway to the Olympic Peninsula".  It was a very dense town, with nearly the entire population packed within a few square miles.  One could start out anywhere in Aberdeen, face any direction, and walk five miles and find themselves in the middle of a forest.  Despite this, nearly every service could be found inside the bustling town.  It was that particular quality that had initially attracted Rich.<br/><br/>Ten years ago, Rich had scouted out Aberdeen.  Because of it's proximity to the forest, a great deal of camping grounds had sprung up, one of which quickly became Rich's target.  For two years, he lived in a small burrow a few hundred yards outside of Pine Springs Camping Grounds.  Every few weeks, he would sneak into Pine Springs and proceed to wreak general havoc.  Some food stolen here, a brutal murder there.  Pine Springs gained a notorious reputation after his first summer there, and the following camping season had record low attendance.  Defeated by an unsolvable string of murders and thefts, as well as nonexistent customers, the owners declared bankruptcy and put the land up for sale.  Rich bought it the very same day.<br/><br/>Since then, he had customized Pine Springs.  He took down the gaudy sign marking it on the highway (thus masking it's existence from virtually the entire world) and completely renovated the interiors of the five central structures.  The main hall was partitioned into different sections: the offices in the back were turned into a spacious living area for Rich, and the gathering hall in the front of the building was turned into a general entertainment area.  The four "Presidential Cabins" surrounding the main hall were redone to suit a more permanent residence, and the camping areas surrounding the central buildings were abandoned and left to nature.<br/><br/>Once he had a den, Rich had started actively searching for packmembers.  Reinard, Talton, Stephen, and Ian.  One by one over the years, he had found and recruited them, giving them a Presidential Cabin and $10,000 to do whatever they wanted with it.<br/><br/>Rich nudged the truck off of the highway and onto the unmarked and hidden dirt road that led to Pine Springs.  The pickup bounced over the rutted path, the intoxicating scent of pine trees filling the cab.  He may leave it for someplace else in a few years, and he sure as hell wouldn't be here in a decade.  But for now, Pine Springs was his home.<br/><br/>He inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smell of nature as he eased the pickup into the worn parking area outside the gathering hall.  Leaning his head out the open window, Rich did a mock howl.  "Ahwooooo!  Honey, I'm home!"