Silvertip Mountain look well, o wolves

Shardul

Chaska
Steady
Vanora
Fitz
Mason
Zaria
Alastor
Cho

Mason heard Alastor come up behind him, and he allowed a soft whimper to escape. Finally, someone was on his side of the battlefield, and Alastor was a much bigger wolf than Mason. The boy debated slinking forward to hide between Alastor’s legs, but he couldn’t will his muscles to move. It occurred to him and that this might not be the best idea. If he could will himself to move, maybe he should run, and let Alastor deal with the fallout. Mason was not a coward, but nor was he stupid, and he knew that even a cougar would balk at attacking a full grown wolf defending a pup.

Unfortunately, more and more wolves were popping up like daisies near Fitz. Zaria appeared and launched herself right at Shardul. Mason’s throat constricted with fear for the slender pretty girl. He closed his eyes in fright, then opened them a slit to see her land her hit and tear at the creature’s neck. Mason’s eyes moved to his Dad, a small portion of him gauging the reaction in a calculating way, beneath the fear – now his Dad had a choice. Who would he save?

Shardul did not let Fitz make that choice. The creature itself HAD no choice, considering the odds. Shardul had a small pup and medium wolf on one side of him; he had six adult wolves on the other, with the smallest already grasping at its neck.  The charcoal cougar leapt away from the larger group, bypassing Alastor with a desperate rangy stride that may have landed it another blow or may not. Mason didn’t know.

All the six-month pup could see was a blunt stony face bearing down on him. When it reached out to grasp him, he flinched, but this action merely served to press him closer to the ground. The teeth grasped him in the sweet spot of his scruff – he may have been larger than Shardul expected but he had a slight frame beneath his fluff. Instinct borne into him as a small pup took over, and immediately Mason’s legs curled up into the foetal position and any thrashing movements he might have made were quieted to allow this beast to carry him off with no qualms. Mason’s orange eyes concentrated on the swaying ground ahead as Shardul readjusted him, but the boy made no movement. To do so could mean death or a violent tumble considering the awkward lumbering gait of the creature.

Who would rescue him now? Or was he to be the sacrificial lamb?