Silvertip Mountain Wishful thinking

Perhaps he wouldn’t succeed as Beta. Perhaps he would be ousted, or Fitz would pull him to one side and quietly ask him to step down because he wasn’t stepping up to the role. Mason quashed these thoughts – there was no point in expecting he would fail before he had even started. 

With play initiated, his Uncle quickly took up the game – something Mason had known he would do. With those narrow eyes fixed upon him, Mason scrambled to disentangle his legs as he squeal-giggled joyfully. He managed to get himself to his paws, cast one look over his shoulder to check his Uncle was indeed chasing him, then Mason ran like the wind, laughing all the way. “You’ll never catch me!” He sang as he ran, all of his worries draining out into his slipstream like a bad infection loosed by a surgical cut; he cast the thoughts off and left them to wallow in his wake, with no intention on taking them up again.