When I moved from the city to Willow's Bend, I didn't think it would change me. I knew who I was. I had been a reporter for the city newspaper for seven years, graduated top of my journalism class, and still maintained a full work schedule even after the death of my father. My father always cheered me on. He always had my back and wanted me to have a better life than he had growing up. He moved from the small rainy town when he met my mother. They married and settled in a city down south. He recently moved back to his hometown and was found dead in the woods two weeks later from an animal attack. His death was the sixth so-called "animal attack" in a month. Something is happening in Willow's Bend. There's a story to be told and I intend to find it.