Heron Lake Plateau et je la douce fleur

I don't like it either, replied an even-more-fretful-than-usual Owen. He wasn't at all certain he could chalk it all up to merely some sort of change brewing in the pack, either, but... Something changing...like what? Some of his deepset fears gleamed through as he turned bright, worried eyes to his sister, desperate for some sort of explanation. He shifted positions again, sitting hipshot the other direction and giving his ribcage another quick scratch with the hindpaw he hadn't put all his weight on. Felt like the very air was giving him fleabites, or something.

He was caught off-guard by her seemingly expecting him to know something about it all, though. Uuuuuhhhh... no, no I haven't heard anything. ...No one really ever tells any of us much, do they? he added a bit grumpily. He was a full-grown adult and everything, darnit, even if maybe he hadn't filled out and put on muscle as much as some of his elders—yet still somehow everyone treated them like newborn pups who couldn't or wouldn't understand a thing! ...Which was why Owen had to come up with all of his own very convoluted and bizarre explanations for everything all the time, naturally. Which if you asked him often turned out to be better than what the older adults claimed was true anyway, so there.