“Excuse me?” The weasel had picked himself up after being tossed across the street by Lock MacRyrie and was now standing outside their fence. Existing. And his existing annoyed Berg. Slowly, Berg and his siblings looked over at the weasel. Without saying a word, they focused on him . . . and waited. Instead of getting the hint, he cheerfully asked, “Any idea when the girls will be back?” They continued to silently stare, reminding Berg why he loved his siblings. Why he loved being part of triplets. For moments like these. The weasel glanced around. “Uh . . . okay. Um . . . could you tell them
...more
