Heron Lake Plateau (futuristic space music)

Owen had been glad to smell Poe's presence around the packlands here and there, and had had a vague idea that maybe at some point he should track her down and see how she was doing. He'd never quite gotten around to it, though; it hadn't seemed an immediate or urgent matter... until all of a sudden he found that it suddenly was much more so, out of nowhere. Something about the scent trails he'd been picking up more recently was bugging him extra-much, and making his feet restless and leaving his nose twitching and tingling. It was all very strange...especially when he happened across Towhee's scent trail and was left standing in confusion trying to sort out why he felt the need to check in on her all of a sudden as well. Surely her spirit guide/other half X could do that perfectly well, and his parents talked to her more regularly than him in the process of all that Important Pack Business... but Owen couldn't shake the feeling that he really ought to go find one or the other of them, like right now, and preferably maybe even both.

His usual ambling wanderings turned into a more-purposeful trot, lanced through with sudden fresh concern as he smelled intermixed now a bit of...blood?! Well crap, maybe there was some sort of psychic sense within him that was trying to tell him one of them was hurt and nudge him in that direction. Though if some sort of injury-alerting spirit was on the job, he had to admit that somewolf else like maybe his mom seemed a lot likelier of a candidate...but maybe the spirit was having trouble finding her for some reason. She did keep pretty busy some days after all. ...The wolf he ran into was neither Poe nor Towhee nor even Raven however but rather Quixote. Oh— hey Dad, he said, cresting the ridge and then halting in surprise. Uh—you haven't seen Poe, by chance, have you? ...Or Aunt Towhee?

Even as he was speaking, however, his gaze wandered past his father to the not-entirely-familiar male hovering a short distance further beyond Qui. The guy smelled enough like pack that Owen wasn't overly concerned about that part—besides which with his father on patrol hereabouts, any unwelcome intruders would surely already have been put on notice—but what caused his eyes to involuntarily widen was the sight and scent of the guy's injuries. At first Owen wildly wondered if he had been wrong after all about the stranger smelling sufficiently like his local packlands, if maybe Qui had been after him and was now planning to move in and finish the job— but as Owen cautiously took another several deep sniffs he realized his father's scent wasn't on the scruffy grey-and-brown male. Someone else was responsible for all the toothmarks and saliva and blood. Oh uh, h-hi there, he said, recalling enough of his manners to greet the dude at least even if he still couldn't help staring, his eyes tracing the zigzagged and matted fur and the bare patch on the shoulder with horror and fascination intermingled. Owen involuntarily took a step closer to his dad, lurking in Qui's shadow like the insecure wuss he was. What happened to him? he whispered to Quixote, but the words came out rather more loudly than Owen had quite intended. Whoops...had the guy heard that? Though really given the sorry state he looked to be in, and with whatever trouble he'd so recently gotten himself into, the other wolf shouldn't be very surprised if he evoked some gossip, here.