Silvertip Mountain The drum beats out of time

FitzDutiful watched his son as he squished deeper into Raissa's belly. He felt proud to have sired two beautiful children - even if they had lost many more. He felt stirrings of something. Something he wasn't supposed to feel, he was sure. As he watched the little squeaky one try and clamber closer to Raissa he felt jealousy. Jealousy that they would choose her than him. Reaching out, he carefully hooked little Mason and slid his tiny squeaking body over to where his father lay.


He knew it was stupid. There was no way these little tiny creature who couldn't see or hear would have a preference. The only thing they knew was food or no food and no matter how much he may want to, FitzDutiful could never provide that element. Not yet, not until they were weaned. He covered Mason carefully with one paw so he was surrounded by paws on each side. A little bean inside a cocoon.

He didn't say a word, he just watched his little mottled prince through the gap that his paws left.