Heron Lake Plateau (futuristic space music)

<3 ...well I can't promise mine is any better, heh, but hopefully it's comprehensible and not too typo-riddled, at least.

Obviously Owen was pretty limited in his interest and/or ability to properly Adult still too; it wasn't just Qui who was still trying to figure out how to navigate this whole young-spawn-growing-up thing. Perched beside him on half-crouched forelimbs Owen stared up at his father and tried to work his way through that cryptic and bizarre statement, And you shouldn't for a little while either. What? Why the heck should he avoid his aunt, or his friend for that matter? Was something that terribly wrong with them?! Owen's green eyeballs inexorably were drawn back to Rye's festering injuries as vague speculations stirred and started wildly churning in circles in his young (and seemingly rather thick) head. Qui's so very pointed emphasis on the word fight did not illuminate things for young Owen any further, and in fact only threw him into more confusion.

He attempted to regain some regal gravitas as he returned Rye's nod, but failed at this pretty miserably, especially with the lurking horror so readily apparent in his riveted gaze still. This guy Rye hadn't, like...beaten up Towhee, had he?! Maybe X had left those bloody scars zigzagging all across the guy's body! Maybe it was about to be up to him and his dad to finish the job, one way or another, a prospect that left Owen's stomach roiling and recalled that weird stranger Sizzle all too vividly: Owen was pretty dang sure he was not up to such a task yet, and maybe not ever. His eyes went even wider with shock as Rye responded, however, with an equally vague, "The lake is a bit busy right now..."

Owen regarded Rye with growing awe as yet another fantastic possibility occured to the gangling youngest of the males. Was it the fabled monster of the lake that Rye had just been fighting that had left him so sorely injured?! Wow! Owen had never known a wolf to take on the lake monster before. That would be a hella impressive feat. His tailtip twitched from one side to another as he looked upon Rye with growing confidence and respect both. ...His father's words (that Owen's author totally didn't forget to respond to above, too) came back to him and snapped him out of his reverie, though. Oh, uhm, well...nnnno? I dunno. They're some of the green ones, anyway, but...no. A laden pause as his eyes wandered back up and down Rye in something now akin to hero-worship fascination. I can show Rye where they are though and he can pick them out for himself though, he blurtingly suggested. I-i-if he doesn't know where the garden is, that is, I mean...?