Silvertip Mountain Digging that den.

Mason had not had a chance to speak to his Step-Mother about her imminent pregnancy. He had the feeling she may have been avoiding him (and everyone else) for lack of wanting to talk about it. She wasn’t the sort of woman who he had expected to have children. He should have known his dad would knock her up though – Fitz had never made it a secret he wanted more children.
 
Mason had suffered the usual fit of jealousy and rage an older sibling suffers, but he had kept it to himself. He had chewed through a thick log of wood to vent his frustration, and he had come out of the other side with no scars this time. He was learning to grow up.
 
Mason followed her scent – cloyed with the unusual hormones of pregnancy – and eventually spotted her catching her breath amidst mounds of dirt. Mason frowned in mild confusion, then shook off the expression and pressed onwards to meet her. “Hiya.” He spoke, his tone uncertain as he tested the water and hypothetically prodded the porcupine. Would she fire a quill or was she in a good mood? He could never tell.
 
Mason’s orange eyes took in her petite frame, one that he no longer found quite as alluring now that his puppy love had faded. They lingered on the very definite bulge that now adorned her belly – she looked like she had swallowed a barrel. The rest of her seemed un-bloated, and he hoped that she was looking after herself. He didn’t dare ask her that yet, until he ascertained her mood. Instead he smiled, wagged his tail, and approached her carefully with his posture low and respectful. “I’m excited for my new brothers and sisters” he admitted.