Big Salmon Lake do my patriotic chore

He'd sojourned off to the middle-of-nowhere after being caught upon the borders of some pack. All Dingo knew was that Panther lived there, and his friends were jerks, so Dingo had half a mind to say fuck it and just go on his merry way. Having a place to sleep and a constant supply of food was vastly more appealing than he let on, though. So as unhappy as the boy was, he couldn't ignore the predicament. To see his brother — and this Fox person who might or might not be a relation too — he would have to hunt the bajeezus out of this place.

The forest swallowed him first, and he ambled through it with minimal care. It was appealing to him because of the cover it provided, but after squaring off against a few too many dead ends Dingo forgot about hunting and sought a way out. He emerged to the north of the tangled woodland; bits of leaf-litter across his back and a number of small burs embedded in the fur of his hindquarters (don't ask), and stared out at the foreign lake, breathing a tired huff at the pretty view.