Silvertip Mountain The ripple effect

Mason wanted to talk to his Dad. He had come of age now, and he had a few things he needed to say. He sat quietly at the edge of a stream – one of his favourite places to visit when he needed to rearrange his thoughts. Mason stared down at the liquid which bubbled happily over cold , smooth rocks and grey pebbles. It gurgled gently to him. The stream was large and fast-flowing enough to avoid the freezing touch of winter. Mason carefully dipped his healing paw into the cold water, revelling in the wet feel of its cleansing powers. He had been very careful to keep trapped dirt and other things from staying in the wound too long, and now he was blessed with a scab that seemed to be staying put without cracking. Because it was between his toes, he had struggled to keep it from splitting open at first, but finally he had passed that hurdle. And now he needed to talk to Dad.

As though willing him here with his mind, Mason thought about Fitz’s kind orange eyes. He imagined the grey-white fur until he could almost see his Dad’s face dancing amongst the reflections that patterned the broken surface of the water.

@FitzDutiful