Big Salmon Lake [m] how can i be a black hole and your favorite constellation?

The first thing Peregrine thought of as he crossed into the wilds was his father.
He was gone, and he could not remember the last he'd seen him; seen his aunt Towhee. Seen Vesper and Prevost. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared. Not that they cared.
The forgotten fuck-up son. A misgiving of his grand surname.
After a while, his wanderings grew more and more stretched in their length; he did not say goodbye when he left Phox for the last time, merely disappeared and did not look back. He could only imagine the disappointed, curved look to his father's aging face; the point of his gaze.
And now, in the passing weeks since his return to this wretched swath of wilderness, his coat had gone scraggly and wiry. He appears almost as if he were a mangy coyote rather than a grown wolf. Dust clings to his feet and his bones jut from beneath his skin. Surely he looks mangled; erratic, a wisp who must be hooked on some earthly substance that should never grace the tongue of a godly creature.
The wind is biting as his tongue flicks over the iridescent surface of the lake. The leaves of the aspens are brown, ugly; long past their peak.
How fitting a setting for his return, he thought.