She felt the first raindrop and cursed her luck. It was unusual for a rainstorm to happen in August, even in the cold climate of northwest Montana, but she wasn’t surprised. The way her life had been spiraling downward for some time, further misfortune felt ordinary. From her hiding spot behind a lone Douglas fir, she peered at the cabin ten paces south and waited for the man inside to open the door and allow his pet wolf in for the night.It would be the third chicken in as many weeks that Nettie would steal from Trapper Jack, and she knew by then how to carry out the theft without being caught. First, she needed the cover of night. Second, she needed the wolf to be inside. As a result of spying on him over the last month, she knew that Trapper Jack was gone for most of the day setting and collecting from his traps, but he often left the wolf behind, so Nettie couldn’t steal in the daytime without risking injury.Each of the previous times she stole from him, she was almost caught due to not abiding by these basic precautions.
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