I will not tell you his name, so for convenience, I'll call him Uncle, like I did during the two weeks we were trying to leave Germany.
Uncle's house was in the geographical center of a large forest in the northwest of the mountains in the country. It took a plane flight to get to the country, a train ride to the last town, and a horse ride out to the woods. The horse was skittish, and refused to go into the woods, and it only took one smell from the strong wind that suddenly blew through to know why. Wolves. The forest reeked of them. I was fine with wolves, but the horse wasn't, so I took all my belongings and sent the horse on its merry way. The wind blew itself out, and the fog grew even thicker than before. And so I pulled up my bright red hood that would identify me to Uncle and stepped into the forest.
When did the wolves start following? Shortly after I walked in. But as I mentioned before, I was fine with wolves. After all, there's not much I can't handle, and even a starving wolf wouldn't be able to hurt me. Cocky? No. I believe 'skilled' is the proper term.
But anyway, as I walked through the woods, the wolves kept following, growing in number. Soon, there must have been a whole pack or two, just traveling with me, like a group of puppies following a loving owner. After trekking for hours through the woods, I finally saw Uncle's home. It was a sizable log cabin that sat down in a valley. It was picturesque in an eerie way, what with the thick fog and black smoke coming from a chimney built into the side of the cabin. I lingered on the edges of the trees for a few moments, knowing that the cabin was being watched. That I would be watched once I stepped out into the open. I looked around a few times, and sure enough, I could see two scouts 'hiding' up in trees, watching the cabin. There was also a camera hidden nearby, I could tell by the clicking it made as it turned.