Riley walked with a rhythmic crunch of gravel under his boots, his fingers stained a deep indigo, matching the smear across his cheek. He had spent the better part of the afternoon in the thickets at the river’s edge. The locals knew the best spots—hidden away from the main paths, where the bushes grew wild and untamed, heavy with fruit that had ripened under the relentless prairie sun.

In a world of mass-produced sweets, Sweet Riley Saskatoon offers something rare: a taste of place, a dash of grief turned to joy, and the reminder that the sweetest things in life often come with a story—and a little bit of fur.

He looked up.

Riley plunged her hands into the foliage. The leaves were dusty, and the branches scratched at her arms, but she didn't mind. She worked methodically. Plink. Plink. Plink. The berries hit the bottom of the metal pail.