Silvertip Mountain Heating up

Mason didn’t have anything to say. He knew that anything he might say in response would turn into an argument so that she could have the last word, because that was just Zaria’s way. He sniffed softly when she fluttered over and seated herself carefully next to him. There was something unusual in her scent; he couldn’t quite put his paw on it. He willed his thoughts to still tjemselves. He had stopped himself thinking of her in a romantic way – he didn’t want to start again just because she was being nicer to him. And anyway it was only perceived niceness in comparison to her usual prickles that jabbed him.

Steady saved the day. Mason’s ears tipped back to listen to his Uncle’s calm voice and his tail gave an unperceivable twitch of a wag. He felt a nudge to his neck and Mason snuffled a sigh of relief. He didn’t give Zariamuch of an option to say no, as he wanted out of this place. “Yeah… I need t’find something better than moss.” Probably not true, but Mason’s quiet voice told a tale of woe and clear need to escape.

“Bye Zaria.” He bade her farewell;  Mason would of course be unwilling to ever not greet her again now, out of fear for his position in the pack than true respect. The pale boy stood and sidled against his Uncle for a moment in silent gratitude, then began to walk off. Any direction would do.