Duck Lake what do you see

His head was on his paws, and his yellow eyes were half open; unfocused. He sprawled in the shadow of a lonely cottonwood on a high hill, cradled in a bed of blue sedges and dainty flowers. His body felt warm and heavy. His toes tingled. Sweet, fuzzy dreams danced at the edge of his waking mind like little fairies.

Goldry sighed deeply. It was a troubled sigh and somewhat forced, like a gust of wind. It blew the dreams away. He wrinkled his forehead and blinked. His eyes hardened. They fixated on some distant, indiscernible point on the horizon as if he could stare down the thing that vexed him if it only dared to show its face.

That was the trouble. He couldn't find it.

He couldn't find them, rather. Alo's scent lingered in Ookaan territory like expensive perfume in a hotel lounge, mingling with the scents of strangers he had yet to meet—strangers who were his pack mates; his new brothers and sisters. They were shadowy, faceless creatures. And they had no names he knew of, so he had taken to calling them by nicknames: Big Boy, Bone Girl, Little Coywolf. All derived from unique characteristics about themselves they left behind like breadcrumbs.

He couldn't wholly blame them for their lack of intimacy, however. Today, as on many other days, Goldry was outside his pack's territory, and he rested rather than searched.

A sudden splash! wrested Goldry's attention away from his troubles. He glanced down and saw a black wolf wading into the lake below. Goldry stood immediately, hesitated, then trotted down his high hill to the edge of the water with his heart thundering. But he could tell she wasn't Ookaan as soon as he arrived—he could smell that much from where he stood, several feet down the lakeshore. The revelation was a small, bitter pill to swallow; but she was still a mystery he was keen to explore, so he stowed his disappointment and shouted out to her.

"You there! What were you running from?"