Silvertip Mountain Arm yourself because no one else here will save you.

Mason's little face beamed up at him, and FitzDutiful smiled back; he loved his son more than anything in the world and it almost broke his heart to keep things from him. Almost. It would be a lie to say he wasn't enjoying having a little bit of Zaria to himself, besides, they got on so well that he was bound to be happy. But that was in the future, for now, patrol.

"Border patrol," he said, as if he didn't anything else. He really didn't and he needed to. What ever happened to his joy of plants or his desire to counsel? It was concerning that he had let both of those trades slip away. Still, maybe a mastery of one rather than a scattered understanding of three was the best choice? Or maybe he should mix things up and drop one away.

"Do you remember what you're doing?" he asked Mason, turning his thoughts away from difficult tasks and onto wardenship instead. He had given them the basics when they started leaving the den, but he'd never been on an official patrol with his son. "Remember what signs to look for?"