Lone Star Mountain fitbit charger

Mason was not what he had set out to be; he was chatty and friendly, but he found that fits of sulkiness threaded through his body without warning. Sometimes he found himself wanting to smash people in the face with his paw when they didn't do what he wanted. He had no real way of knowing this was normal teenage behaviour, because he only had three wolves to look up to: FitzDutiful, Steady and June. None of them made any mention of ever having thought this way. June was his littermate but she tended to be off with the daisies most of the time, so perhaps she just didn't have the mental capacity to feel so frustrated.
 
With his new title of Beta, the awkwardly-shaped young wolf had set off on a jaunt to progress his Scout trade. He wanted lots of experience to show his Dad. A pale, brown-dappled grey body cut through the wilds and carefully skirted territories that were obviously claimed. Mason spotted no one on his way, not even from a long distance. He relished the solitude for a while, but soon he longed for another being to speak with. His grand thoughts of being an introvert were wildly inaccurate. Mason huffed a sigh and trekked diagonally across a mountain he hadn't visited before. Sheep grazed in the far distance, not worried about a lone wolf unless he had angled towards them. He didn't bother; sheep-rustling was not going to be any fun on his own.
 
The young beta scented a wolf he didn't know some minutes later. A black nose reached down to the earth to drink in the scent. Ears pricked in the direction of the stranger and Mason set off. He pressed on in a lope, eager to find someone in this barren lonely landscape. It didn't take him long to spot a lone, dark wolf whose fur twinkled as darkly as a starless night. Mason headed straight for him, anticipation lending his unconventional face a certain quality. "Hullo?!" He called loudly and with gusto as he ran towards the stranger, tongue lolling to one side, hoping that the man would turn and greet him.