Heron Lake Plateau Never mind the slacks and bashers

Forward-dated a day or three after my previous one. :P

Unsurprisingly, Quixote wasn't exactly fond of the warmer days, and there would certainly be more of those up ahead on the calendar, even if today wasn't too bad out.  As he mentioned when they moved here, he did rather think the whole place would have been a lot better if it had more trees.  It was unfortunate they didn't just sprout like the spring grasses.  He'd just had an unsuccessful hunt -- unsurprisingly, as he still felt like he'd been run over by a bulldozer and definitely wasn't running on full cylinders --  which had definitely raised his internal temperature, so he'd turned his paws towards the lake.  Quixote planned to get a drink, maybe cool down a bit or something considering he was still panting pretty heavily.

His pace was uneven.  He'd run through the bruises and stiffness, almost certainly against Raven's suggestions orders, but Quixote was probably about as stubborn as he was a bad patient when he felt he had other obligations.  At least he was back to being just his normal level of scruffy instead of being an animated mudball.  At the shore, he lowered his head, lapping up a few mouthfuls of water.  It was lukewarm around the shore, so he moved farther in to the lake where the water was slightly cooler.