Bramblepoint Self-appraisal

Mason started when a sudden huff reached his ear drums. He did a weird twist which nearly rent the front and back ends of his body asunder with a gory split down the middle. He caught a glimpse of the other wolf whilst he was trying to right his posture. Remembering he was an adult now and supposed to be dignified (he represented the best pack in the world after all) Mason shook off his surprise and padded carefully towards the other male. With his tail and stance neutral, Mason allowed a friendly twitch of a smile and fixed his eyes on the other wolf’s chest. The male was much taller than he, and his dark fur was marred with blemishes that could only be determined in the dim light through the way his fur spread around the marks rather than flowing over his entire body.

Sensitive to both inner and outer scars – indeed his paw still throbbed in the cold although he no longer had any hindrance with his movement – Mason coughed back his initial response of ‘what in the world happened to you’ and instead managed to blurt out “Who are you?”.

After a momentary blip, where he openly stared at that scarred, skinny, lanky body, Mason suddenly realised he sounded a bit hostile and added: “I’m from SilvertipMountain, my Dad’s FitzDutiful.” He found it easier to introduce his father than himself, because it was Dad who was usually well-known. He was just a hanger-on to his father’s fame.