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

Mason chuffed quietly to himself when Fitz explained there were other things to worry about. He would later learn a harsh lesson in the ‘other creatures’ category with Shardul. 

Dad pointed at a ‘weak spot’ Mason surmised, when he inhaled and realised it wasn’t as strong as the nearby areas. Mason wondered whether they all smelled the same because they lived in the same area, or if they somehow acquired the smell when they became a Silvertip wolf.

Mason walked squarely into the centre of the weak spot and laid down. Then with a glance at Dad, he rolled himself over onto his back and began squirming around. He was sure he was adding brown spots of earth to his brown-splotched back, but he didn’t mind. It was quite fun – Mason giggled as he twisted his abdomen this way and that, moving as he want, hopefully dredging his scent into the earth. 

After a minute he stopped, panting from the vigour in an excited manner, and looked up at his dad like the pup he still was. “That do?” 
Mason righted himself within a second flat, basically jumping to his feet, and the sniffed at the ground critically.