Stretch your legs and ready your mind

@Mason @Bhreac

June had been out exploring a lot already. She seemed to think that FitzDutiful didn't have a clue, but he knew the comings and goings of her pack. He had followed her once, stalking her and making sure she was safe as she wandered through ash. It had been a harrowing time but if it was what she wanted then he wouldn't deny her it.

Mason, however, hadn't left the pack lands yet. Not that FitzDutiful had found anyway,and he didn't know if it was a point of concern. Telling his son that it was time to stretch his legs, FitzDutiful led the way through the back passages of the mountain - a safe route to a secluded glass cave. It would allow his son a chance to scamper away if he felt afraid with a low chance of getting lost, but also show him that exciting things could be found away from the pack - sometimes even other wolves.

As they emerged from the back of the cave to the shimmering area, FitzDutiful turned to the young little wolf. "What do you think?". There was an obvious entrance that any other wolf could use to access the area. FitzDutiful kept a wary eye on the other entrance in case anyone else made their way here.

Mason had not left the packlands. He had no real reason to go anywhere. His world was his father and his sister – and they resided on Silvertip Mountain. When his Dad suggested a stretch of his legs, he gambolled alongside on his own unusually short yet slender appendages.

He shivered with excitement when he realised his father was leading him out of Silvertip Mountain. Mason pressed close to his father’s side and looked around at the world with his burning orange gaze. It was large, but not scary – not with his Dad by his side.

When they moved into a cave that shimmered with crystal walls, Mason moved forward with innocent glee. He did not find it scary at all – it was mesmorising. He prodded at one of the walls with his nose gently, then snuffled in all of its scents carefully. A glance back at his Dad and “It’s great!” he replied with a wag of his tail, then he moved along the edge, towards the other entrance which he had not yet spotted. Dim light glimmered along his dusty white fur.

FAMILY REUNION HELLOOOOOOOO I LOVE YOU BOTH

Now that she had somewhere to return to at the end of the night, Bhreac indulged herself and ventured farther and farther from the Valley that was — or would be — home. Everything here was new and unfamiliar and living and lurid, and it made her feel like the ground was constantly shifting beneath her feet, falling out from beneath her in mighty hunks of rock. But piece by piece, she was putting it back together, and figuring out how to traverse it. Despite her reservations about being in a new place filled to the brim with new faces that she didn't necessarily trust, it was exciting to see what the lands had to offer.

She'd travelled somewhat far from home when she came to more mountains, and pressing on, she eventually came to the mouth of a cave. Stepping into it through the entrance she found, she was instantly struck dumb by what she found in side. Sharp, shimmering, iridescent walls that looked like — well, nothing she'd ever seen before. She'd have to bring her sister back here.

Tail wagging, Bhreac started to step farther inside to investigate, but the moment she lifted a paw, a pup crossed in front of her path. Unsure if he saw her — gosh, he looked little, she cleared her throat. 

"Hey, squirt," she said, wagging her tail a bit more heartily, she took a step forward into the cave, and then spotted the second wolf, presumably a parent. They had similar coloring — pale, but dashed with bits of color, especially the little one whose paws looked like he'd been mucking about in the mud, with the same sort of golden eyes. Offering a smile to the older wolf, and hoping she wasn't about to get momma-beared the hell out of the cave, she added, "and bigger squirt."

FitzDutiful was wary when the white wolf walked into the glittering cave. His nose took in her scent and found it lacking and substantial pack markers. A lone wolf. He watched her carefully, keeping an eye on Mason during his exploration of the cave - letting his son decide what he wanted to do. Meeting other wolves was part of the experience of course. She seemed friendly so he avoided any aggressive posture. Though it wouldn't be the first time a lone wolf had sought to make a pup dinner, Mason was old enough to not be seen as a meal ticket to the majority of wolves.

"Hey to you too." he said, trying to make it clear that he was okay as long as his son was. He kept a careful watch on both of them as he tried to find her intentions. "What brought you here today?" Could he recruit her to their pack as well? She seemed good with pups with was always a good first impression bonus.

Mason didn’t realise that he had almost plodded right into Bhreac at first – so intent was he on the glass sides of the cave. It was only when he spotted her bobbly reflection – at exactly the same time she spoke – that he was startled into jumping a good foot of the ground. He heard his Dad respond in turn as he turned to sheepishly look at Bhreac properly. She was large, and he eyed her muzzle with some cautious interest.

“Hullo” he muttered dutifully to the stranger, casting a glance at Fitz to check he approved prior to moving on with the conversation. “Have you seen the stuff on the wall?” he turned back to prod his nose in the wall’s direction. “What is it?” And with this innocent question he looked back, between Bhreac and FitzDutiful, effectively putting them both on the spot.

Mason wasn't afraid of the lone wolf, which was good though she shortly wandered off. Instead he was interested in what lined the walls of the cave. FitzDutiful looked at his son with a slight smile and decided to see if there was an inner naturalist within him. He was at an age where he could start pursuing trades and becoming an apprentice, so why not start him now?

"Why don't you try and figure that out?" he said, walking over to sit by Mason. "Investigate it with all your senses and see what it reminds you of." FitzDutiful didn't know of glass, but he did know of ice. As far as the wolf was concerned the walls of the cave was aligned with a special kind of frozen water that provided no nourishment.

The lone wolf didn’t hang around – Mason twitched his tail in farewell to her as she disappeared from the way they have entered. His Dad picked up the slack in conversation and asked him if he could determine what the substance was.

Mason leant in closer and tentatively touched the surface of the strange material. It was bumpy, but it was entirely smooth with no granular qualities like rock usually had. Mason’s breath steamed up the glass as he sniffed in deeply and then let out a snort. Droplets of moisture quickly developed on the cool surface and ran down in tiny rivulets.

Mason turned to his Dad. He had never seen ice before, as their den had not yet dropped cold enough, and so he had nothing else to relate the substance to than the pools and rivers around his home.

Bright orange eyes burned inquisitively into his father’s face, no hesitation or qualms at expressing his views to this man, who had never been anything but supportive. “Cos it shows things all wobbly ‘n’ I can sorta see myself in it too.”

Water was the thing FitzDutiful expected and Mason didn't disappoint, his son was so smart - the definite apple of the tree. FitzDutiful loved June just as much but he found her hard work. She seemed to shy away from him in a way that Mason never did. Still, she was doing well in her own way even if Mason was his favourite (though he would never say that to anyone, nor admit it to himself).

"Have you tried to touch it with your nose?" he asked his son. He had learnt early in his naturalist apprenticeship that his nose would tell him more than any other sense. It would help him figure out if things were hot or cold, wet or dry, smelt safe or dangerous. Sometimes the scent fed his taste-buds too and allowed him to determine even more. He came over, to sit by Mason, watching him - ready to guide him through the process of gathering data with all the senses, instead of just sight or sound.

Dad looked pleased with his response, and he gave Mason a small task to undertake. Try and touch it with his nose? He hadn’t thought about that much. He immediately pressed his wet black nose against the glass, his whiskers testing the smooth surface. It was weird, and amazing, and cold. “It’s cold!” He exclaimed to his Dad in delight.

Mason breathed in deeply then breathed out again. This time a large patch steamed up. With his wide-set eyes this close to the surface he could see the layers and veins of glass beneath which had formed its foundations. “It’s all shiny an’ smooth. Is it water?” he added, casting his Dad a sideways glance whilst keeping his nose pressed against the glass. For all he knew this was some kind of stationary water. Dad would probably know.

Hope you don't mind finishing this one up!

Mason used his nose experimentally and exclaimed with delight at what he found. It was an interesting feeling watching a tiny little version of you expeiment and see things that you now take or granted. Maybe this was why wolves carried on having children one after another so that you were never left taking things for granted.

For FitzDutiful, his next batch were a long way off; still they were going to come around sooner than he knew - if his eldest could get back the fatal blow he was due to be given. All of that, still so far in the future, didn't answer Mason's question so FitzDutiful tried to explain. "I don't think so," he told his son slowly; "Water you can always drink, this you get no moisture from. It's safe though..."

He trailled off, the beginning of an idea beginning to come to him. "Come now," he said to his favourite son, "It's time to be getting back home, June will be wondering where we've gone!" He waited for Mason to be ready before heading back to the pack lands.

Little did Mason realise that FitzDutiful had once not known what these daily excitements were. His Dad was so old, he just assumed that he must have been born huge and knowing all of this knowledge.

Mason nodded when Dad explained about the moisture – that made sense! It couldn’t be water exactly because there was no… water there. He had presumed it was safe, as was mostly the case with the inquisitive 5-monther, and it was probably a good job it was because if it had been dangerous he would still have been all over it like a rash.

Soon, with more training and thought, he would learn more about the trades he wished to take on.

Mention of June brought a smile to his face. Mason yipped and got up, before dancing away from Dad, ears flat. His pace escalated into a gallop quickly as he raced towards home, sure his father was hot on his heels.