I dash left, quickly skirting the leg. While I was passing, Alfie stretched into the aisle with no warning. Inconsiderate dick. It was a close call.

What was I thinking about?

Mushrooms.

With the whole farm-to-table, slow food, locavore movements, there’s a growing market. I wish I could brand them as Quarry Pack morels. Shifters still have a mystique, even if it’s faded since the packs came out in the 50s. We get the occasional fanatic trying to sneak onto our territory, and Chapel Bell, the nearest town, has made a cottage industry out of wolf tchotchkes and New Age “moon power” crap—crystals and dream catchers and essential oils and...