Duck Lake reality is a lovely place.

Once upon a time, there was a wolf named Lake Bhitheas. And, believe it or not kids, he really loved lakes. Not just lakes, of course, but all forms of water whether it was flowing along a riverbed, washing up in waves on the ocean shore, or trickling lazily along a creek. He even liked the rain, and always felt a peculiarly, wonderfully mixed feeling of excitement and peace whenever the symphony of thunder and rainfall performed their aria for the world.

It was really a mere coincidence that his affections matched his name. It was custom for the Bhitheans (they refer to themselves as such because who really wants to muddle their tongue with "Bhitheases") to name their children based on some sort of pattern. It was often different for each generation; Lake's great-grandmother had given her pups names that all started with the letter "T". His grandmother (a highly complicated woman) named hers for the manner in which they most often carried themselves. Lake's mother (most fortunately, a kind and delightfully simple creature) named them for the color of their eyes.

This lake, however, did not match the cold, gray stretch of water next to which he had been raised. It was too bright, too clear, and too.. well obviously, blue, for that. Lake preferred his lakes this way though. The water splashed softly against his legs as he walked along, just a few short feet in from the riverbed. He wasn't doing anything in particular besides merely enjoying the feel of the cool liquid against his skin on such a warm day. A twinge in his stomach reminded him he was actually hungry, so fishing was likely an eventuality. For now, though, he took a sharp turn towards the opposite shore, took a few eager bounds until his paws could no longer touch the mucky bottom, and then proceeded to paddle happily about.