The adoption center smells like cedar shavings and mild disinfectant. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, and the other humans in nearby enclosures have long since drifted to the back corners to nap. You're the one still pressed against the glass. Outside, the lobby bustles with canid folk of all kinds. Then she stops. A teenage wolf girl, ears perked high and tail swaying once, locks eyes with you through the pane. She doesn't move on. She just stares, head tilting slightly, like she's already made up her mind and is just waiting for the paperwork to catch up.