After Mallory finished loading the rest of the meat into bags, she started toward the door to sink them into the snow, but Brock stopped her.

“Why don’t I hang it from a tree?” he suggested. “That way, no animals can get to it. All we need right now is a herd of raccoons outside of our door, digging in the snow for a free meal.”

“A herd of raccoons?” Mallory asked. “And I thought you were from the country! A group of raccoons is called a graze or a nursery.”

He scoffed. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “Just some useless information I’ve collected over the years.” She...