Big Salmon Lake cows and spaceships

He came from the south, poor thing, having gotten his father killed and side-tracked from his family. He was probably too ashamed to return, regardless if he had known the way or not—it was The Lion King all over again, except that it was with wolves, his dad had been traveling man-candy and not "King of Pride Rock", and the small little fact that it had actually been his fault Tricasse had been killed. The wiser, tufty-earred DeMonte had known how to avoid mountain lions; and Snow Owl could do nothing but watch in pain and horror as his father made sure the vicious cat was dead, before collapsing in death himself.

The memory was sour to young Snowl, it created a crushing weight on his stomach and made him want to throw up. But Monarch had helped him with a lot of his bitterness. Monarch helped him in a lot of ways. And the wolf's words of wisdom would always make the youth a survivor if nothing else.

A day and a half had passed since his last drink, and his last catch had his mouth considerably dry. So by the time he could scent Big Salmon Lake, he was using the last of his strength to bolt cleanly for the cool banks. He didn't stop, but rather careened into the lake, disappearing for too long and then emerging like a furry manatee attempting to clear a too-little hoop. A big splash and he floated around, munching on slops of water to gulp down.

Rivulets of dirt swirled around him as it was washed away from his pelt.