Heron Lake Plateau Because I'm the only person around here who looks this cool on a bike

Despite his wide-eyed apprehensions Owen hadn't resisted as his parents had nudged/carried/dragged him out to this strange new place with as gentle of coercion as they could manage. His slumped down onto the earth like a wet rag as his eyes and ears twisted and turned all about him to try and take it all in. -Wherewhatwhy...?- The babbling confusion of his half-instinctive attempts at ptero reflected the turmoil inside him. After a moment of hesitation Owen willed some life into his dead noodly appendages and scooted over into his father's shadow, where he felt a little safer and therefore able to crane his head around and check on each of his sisters in turn. His eyes lingered longest on tiny Kite, who he wanted to make doubly sure was finding some solid footing here, both literally and figuratively.

Quixote didn't give them all a whole lot of time to sit there and let any internal doubts take root. Owen craned his neck backward and gawked up at his father as warnings and admonitions were given, followed by...an invitation? Owen turned to look out at the lake that their father had spoken of. Owen wrinkled his nose a little doubtfully; he'd never seen nearly so much water all together at once, and even if Qui hadn't told them to stay away when on their own the boy would have hesitated to get overly near its banks. Nothing about this place looked or smelled right compared to the home den, from the dirt to the trees to the sun-warmed weeds bobbing gently in the breeze, but the lake itself was by far the most suspiciously strange of all. This did not stop Quixote from briskly stepping out toward the wide waters, however. Owen made a small dismayed noise in his throat and automatically stretched his own lengthening legs to follow, unwilling to let his father just leave him here like this—but he took only a few venturesome steps before stuttering to a halt and looking anxiously back over his shoulder. Ummmm... 'Oo else's coming?

If none of his siblings or his mother were going to be coming along, Owen was starting to have some second thoughts. Maybe it would be better, safer, to just stay here where they'd all stopped together. Besides, what was it about this lake that had Quixote so concerned anyway? Owen's vivid young imagination started to conjure up images of vengeful sentient fingers of water and lurking underwater monsters, all of which would obviously have it in for unwary puppies that ventured too close.