Lion Head Mesa you got a fast car, is it fast enough so we can fly away?

He did notice that the other man had a bit of an odd look on his face, but Mason couldn’t have stopped laughing if he tried. When Curra made the moose sound, Mason’s tail swished, unsure what it meant. However he took it to be good because he wasn’t being ground to a pulp yet.


Mason’s caring words had rubbed the giant up the wrong way – oops. Mason kept quiet about the pitying comment, in case he made things words. His ears flattened appeasingly and he kept his smile. Currawong climbed atop one unsteady-looking rock, graceful and majestic, his swarthy fur ruffling. Mason watched with awe, and wagged his tail continuously like  windmill behind him. This guy was so cool. Even when the rock joggled him, Curra jumped to the next like a pro. Mason didn’t think he had anything to worry about, and he didn’t laugh or say anything about the slight misstep.

“Hi Currawong, I’m called Mason, I like your name. You smell like Redhawk Caldera, have you been there long? I went there once but no one was ready to take a call. So my Uncle took me somewhere else instead. I was younger then, more of a boy, and I suppose now I thought I would go exploring, because now I’m not a boy anymore. I’m an adult.” It was Mason’s turn to puff up his chest after his chattering died down. He fell quiet to let the man answer, which was a conscious decision as he could sometimes chatter all day.