Honeyed Pasture Take every chance you dare

The rusty male kept going until he hit the water, and Mason followed. The feeling was bizarre – rushing, freezing water enveloped his paws. It lifted the sand in the eddies of the tide, causing grains to lodge themselves in the space between his pads. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, although the wind became instantly biting as Mason slowed to a stop. The other boy was revelling in his win, and he reared up to punch the air with a salt-water spray. The wind caught some of the droplets and plastered them along Mason’s fur – he grinned. He removed himself from the water at the same time as his companion, and suddenly the ground felt alien to his numb paws.

He turned to look Hush full in the face for the first time and gave a few huge gasps with his tongue lolling, “Well done mate.” There were unusual features in the wolf’s face, and Mason didn’t understand why he looked that way, but it didn’t really bother him. Wagging his tail he reached in to give Hush a congratulatory bump on the chin. He then turned to survey the sea properly, for the first time up-close.


“I’ve never seen the sea before. It’s pretty, but it’s really cold.” Mason shivered, and stood with his front two paws pressed tightly together, gazing out at the water.