Ty Bearclaw slid out of his truck, shaking his head and grimacing as cold rain slipped inside the collar of his shirt. He reached over the seat, grabbed the wide brimmed hat off the passenger seat, and placed it on his head for protection from the rain.
“I just needed one more hour,” he growled to himself. “Just one more hour of no rain, but no, the clouds had to start pissing the moment I turned onto the road.”
Ty reached behind the seat and pulled out his rifle. He probably wouldn’t need it, but he had learned that it was better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. His job as curator at the Washington State Animal Sanctuary, Research, and Observation Center—WSASROC—took him to all kinds of places. This time, it was a four hour drive from home. A local resident had c
