Lake Rodney Just a papercut

Maybe someone from BAF?

Peregrine would be a liar if he said Lasher didn't cross his mind several times a day since their chance encounter, although his pups kept him otherwise preoccupied. They were three weeks old now, little fur balls with blue eyes, floppy ears and little whip tails. They still hadn't named them, though they would very soon, he knew. He had a couple of names picked out that he would definitely throw on the table. As a matter of fact, his heart was set on Whip-poor-will for Nightjar's lookalike and he still wanted to name one in honor of Pan. The little white boy was the likeliest candidate, though Peregrine didn't think the name necessarily suited him. Maybe it could be a middle name, despite their previous tradition of only assigning girls middle names.

By the time he arrived at the edge of Lake Rodney for a long drink, Peregrine's mind was essentially a running list of possibilities. But he stooped to lap at the water and the cold punch of it effectively cleared his head. When he straightened out and peered across the lake's glassy surface, his jade eyes squinted. The breeze stirring from the south smelled not only of spring but of wolves. His single sighted eye traced over the distant fen, idly wondering if a pack had set up camp there.