Silvertip Mountain This is the damage after the storm

It had been scary and frightening and all types of other bad words. The noise alone had lifted his hackles, but then they had almost been blocked in. Despite his father’s calm (or perhaps because of it) Mason allowed the fear to flood through his body and trembled. Luckily, hero of the hour, Fitz had found them a back route out of the den and shepherded them to safety.

Now he followed his father, past tumbled rocks which littered the ground. He could barely concentrate, with one paw being placed in front of the other being his main goal. He could only imagine how tired June felt, and he walked close to her. Trees rose around them, but some lay like wounded soldiers, toppled in their prime by the force of nature. His interest piqued, Mason perked up a bit and began to look around more – this was the furthest he had ever been from home. He was a bit upset to leave the last place their mother had been seen, but after weeks, his young mind had already caused the contours of her face to meld into a generic brown and grey wolf. It was only her bright eyes which he truly remembered as they had been – so similar to June’s. 

One wolf replied to his father, and another appeared. The slender lady looked cold, wet and  dripping. Clearly she had not managed to find a shelter as good as his family. Mason padded towards her dejected figure and cautiously edged himself between her and Fitz’s bodies. He leaned against Zhavvi softly, intent on providing her with a bit of warmth, despite his much smaller size.