Silvertip Mountain Drained

Zaria didn’t move, and Mason presumed that she took comfort in his touch. If he had known her thought process he might have removed his muzzle. That said, it was the touch he often gave June when she was distressed. If Zaria was uncomfortable with Mason’s treating her like he would another friend, she didn’t show it. 

When her velveteen voice addressed him, Mason did remove his touch from her fur. He turned his head to look down into the water. He stayed pressed along her, providing warmth to her anaemic body. He pushed his own feelings aside as he took care of her. He wanted her to rest, but she seemed to want to ensure that the two of them were okay. Mason realised she may not settle down until she was sure the rift between them had been sewn back together.

“Yes.” He admitted, watching the water swirl in an underlying current – possibly an insect or tadpole drifting beneath the surface. He couldn’t look at her beauty as he added “thank you. For saving me.” Of course, it was a multitude of wolves who had taken that step. But it was Zaria who had thoughtless thrown herself at the beast when she had seen Mason. Perhaps she would have done anyway, but he would rather not qualify that with her. It was nicer to think that she had fought with reckless abandon for him. Perhaps that was selfish, but he was grasping at any comfort he could get at the moment.

He didn’t have much else to tell her, but he thought it best to let her know: “I was hopin’ to go for healer trade.” Orange eyes  glistened with a small dash of humour as he looked to her and added “so thanks for the practice, too.”