Heron Lake Plateau (futuristic space music)

*growls at RL* Well it's efinitely not behaving too well over here, at least. Grumblemutter... no worries, though! My posting speed has been nothing to brag about lately either, obviously.

Owen trailed obediently though slightly reluctantly after his father; his eyes kept straying to Rye, instead. Quixote seemed awfully reticent, and Rye likewise seemed to wish to bite his tongue in the presence of the curt and cryptic alpha, but maybe if Owen could hang back enough to get Rye at least kinda on his own, the story of this obviously epic battle might be more forthcoming? Or heck—given that Towhee and Poe were apparently also involved (X obviously wouldn't be all that much help) maybe one of them might prove more willing to illuminate the tale a little further... except Papa Qui had warned Owen to stay away from both of them, right. What the heck?! Was there something Qui had witnessed that he didn't want his son privy to? Owen's confusion was growing more, not less, in the wake of all this as more and more thoughts came crowding in and swirling about his young brain.

The real answer didn't even cross that selfsame mind, however. And Rye was soundlessly sticking to the path alongside Qui, which really limited Owen's options here no matter how much he was itching to pepper Rye with the questions that kept popping up in his brain like multiplying out-of-control rabbits. Rye peeled off as they hit the river, though, and Owen slowed his steps and opened his mouth to begin the questioning when Qui looked sternly back at the boy again to make sure he was following. Owen folded back his big red ears, swallowed down his queries once again, and dragged himself reluctantly after his dad. Dangit. What the heck, Qui. Interrupting a perfectly good interrogation, and probably just so he could give cryptic brooding remarks that told his son nothing, if Owen didn't miss his guess.  Hmph.

Hangdog and a bit sulky, Owen followed wordlessly after Qui with a last lingering look thrown in Rye's direction. Owen hardly even noticed when they came up on Mom's herb patch. Stupid green things were not nearly as interesting as epic pondmonster battles to the death, after all. When his vacant eyes registered the location, however, the brilliantly springtime-green expanse gently waving their multivariate leaves in his direction in the passing errant breeze, Owen's rump slumped to the ground and he only halfheartedly scanned the vegetable matter. Stupid plants. River water would do well enough for Rye, right? It didn't look to Owen like he was dying or anything. Which logically meant there was no good reason Owen couldn't've just stayed behind and listened to Rye recount his enthralling heroics, no good reason at all. But it seemed pretty obvious Dad had just dragged him along here as an excuse to get him away from Rye and probably Towhee and Poe as well, phooey. Which Owen supposed meant he oughta pay attention to Qui now, even if only halfheartedly. His eyes flickered to his father, then away, then back again, but even as they nominally turned in the black wolf's direction it was apparent that his attention was really only half-there. S'one of the green ones, like I said, Owen resentfully half-muttered.