Heron Lake Plateau I just woke up in my underwear

The summer light had begun to take on a sharp quality, and the air currents had become more volatile, blustering and cold, indicating that the season was transitioning. Perhaps it had been happening for a while. Ambrose didn't want to admit to himself that he'd failed in his attempts to ingratiate himself and earn the respect of these wolves — not because he didn't like them or anything — it was more like his ego had taken a beating since the bear attack. Ambrose had been keeping to himself more often than he should've been, blaming the recovery. Mostly he was brooding. The thought that he'd lost a bet to Bruges of all people really got under his skin.

However, with his wounds well cared for and some impressive scars to show off, he was back in action. Or rather, more active than he had been the previous week or so. Patrols were always easy for the boy, but he took a new interest in his work and made sure to hit the west and the north edges of the territory before midday; by the time he took his first break the day was almost over, and his belly was grumbling at him.

Ambrose chose to detour along the lakeside. If he was going to get himself something to eat, he wasn't about to tap in to the cache system. He'd much rather find something fresh and stow the rest of it — winter was coming, and all that.