Heron Lake Plateau Where the red fern grows

If anyone wants to meet Rye, feel free!

Rye had left Towhee at the border some time ago, venturing out on his own in hopes of exploring and learning the land he was to inhabit. The male felt himself fortunate for being able to join the pack, he was excited and ready to put in his dues, as well as meet his packmates. He hadn't seen any around at the moment but it wasn't as if he made it far from the border, it was still very clearly in sight but he kept on toward the plateau. He briefly pondered where the other wolf was headed, or if they were just on patrol. Rye wondered when he would be put on patrol, or rather if he would be put on patrol. Border patrol was something Rye wouldn't mind doing at all, hell, he would volunteer. A walk around the territory would help clear his mind, and free himself from stress, as most walks did for him. However, he needed to patrol with a packmate first to know the borders but all in good time.

Finally reaching the top of the plateau Rye first sighted water, it gave him a gross reminder of the absence of sufficient amounts of saliva in his mouth, it made his tounge feel sticky and disgustingly dry. He shuttered at the feeling, and hurried himself towards the lake, starting from a fast walk but ending in a trott. Rye abhored the feeling of a dry mouth, and would do anything to rid himself of his personal hell. As his luck would have it, the lake was frozen but the shore was just thin enough some pressure on the ice with his paw was enough to break through the layer, giving Rye a much needed source of water.