The air smelled of coming rain, that peculiar electric charge that makes the hairs on your arms stand at attention. I followed the trail of destruction—smashed vegetables, disturbed earth, and tiny paw prints scattered in a chaotic pattern—to find exactly what I expected: two wolf cubs with their fuzzy bottoms wiggling in the air as they prepared to pounce on Riley’s prized blackberry bushes, their silver-gray muzzles already stained purple.
“Seriously?” I called out, hands on my hips. “Again? After last week’s strawberry m******e?”
Two sets of ears—one pair perked straight up, the other adorably floppy on one side—twitched at the sound of my voice, but neither cub bothered to turn around. Their tiny tails quivered with excitement as they fixated on the juicy berries hanging just within
