Ugly Sally kept the scrap of cloth folded inside her shirt, close to her chest. Her birth mother had wrapped her in it. An embroidered name ran along one edge, a name tied to the attack that killed her family. Sally wanted to find the cabin where her father first found her as a baby. That cabin held the truth of who she was. But she had no memory of it, and no idea where it stood. So she went to the one person who might know. Uncle Joe sat at a scarred table, chewing something slow. He gave her a wide grin full of yellow teeth, the same teeth she saw in her own mirror. His eyes rolled toward her, strange and bright. "You came back," he said. "I told you to leave this buried." "I need the cabin," Sally said. She set the cloth on the table. "Where you say Daddy found me. Take me there." Uncle Joe stopped chewing. He stared at the embroidered name for a long moment. His grin faded. "That name got your mother killed," he said. "The Tamarack clan burned your family out. Pinecrest blood, all of them. You go digging, you dig your own grave." "I'm already ugly and alone," Sally said. "You can't scare me worse than that. Draw me the way." He wiped his mouth. His hand shook. For a long time he said nothing. Then he pushed back his chair. "Fine," he said. "But I only take you to the edge of it. After that, you walk alone." They hiked past noon into cold woods. Uncle Joe stopped at a low rise and pointed down. Below them sat a log cabin, caved inward on itself. Broken rafters stuck up like ribs. Weathered timbers lay scattered across the ground. "That's it," he said. His voice dropped. "That's where he pulled you out." Sally climbed down and stepped through the fallen doorway. Dust hung in the gray light. Against one wall stood a small wooden crib, tipped but whole. She touched the rail. This was her first bed. This was where it all began. Then she saw the burn marks. Black streaks climbed the inside walls. Fire had taken this place, long ago. She knelt by the crib and found something wedged beneath it. A second scrap of cloth, torn and stained, carried the same embroidered name as her own. Sally turned to show Uncle Joe. He stood frozen at the doorway, staring past her at the far wall. Someone had scratched fresh marks into the burned wood. The Tamarack clan mark, Uncle Joe whispered. New. Someone had been here. Recently. "They know," he said. "They know someone's looking. Sally, we have to go. Now." Sally gripped both scraps of cloth. She had found the cabin. But she was no longer the only one who had.