Silvertip Mountain Another road to travel

Mason heard the strangled yell - he had been on his way to see his brothers and sisters again, as he so often did, and so he happened to be nearby. He could tell it was Dad's voice, and Mason's heart pummelled his chest with fear and adrenaline. He turned on the spot and charged in the direction of the sound, ready to defeat whatever foe was attacking his father.

He didn't realise he had nearly passed right by Zaria in his rush.

FitzDutiful had already toppled into what appeared to be a peaceful slumber (at an awkward angle) when Mason managed to reach him, and he hesitated suddenly, skidding to a halt. There would be no last words, and no promises of undying remembrance. The boy - for that is what he was in this moment, merely a boy - stepped over to his father's body. Mason wasn't stupid. He knew what this was - the ultimate journey. It didn't look like he had been attacked, or poisoned. How old had Dad been? How old did wolves live for? Why was this happening to him?

The questions flooded his mind, then suddenly stilled as Mason flopped down beside his father's limp body and numbness took over. The adrenaline slowly dripped out of him - this was a foe he couldn't fight.

He didn't know if he should be crying, but the shock wasn't allowing any tears. He managed a dry sob of strangled despair.

Mason's thin muzzle was laid to rest across Fitz's narrow shoulders, and he mumbled the words carefully into the fur. "Love you forever, Dad."