Silvertip Mountain Settle peacefully

When Jensen spotted him from afar, his anxiety grew tenfold. There, up on the mountainside, was the head honcho himself: FitzDutiful. Jensen hunkered down to remain unseen, curling tightly against a rocky overhang that his lithe body slipped perfectly underneath. He had been dreading this day, when obligations to remain friendly with everyone in the pack left him with only one person he had yet to formally meet: the boss. Part of him was nervous enough to attempt an escape route, but as he peered up through the cracks in the overhang he realized there was really nowhere he could go that the alpha would not see. Well, fudge.

His eyes closed tightly as he tried to even out his breathing, pushing thoughts of his father's tyrannical reign to the back crypts of his mind. There was no way Fitz was as merciless as his dad, he refused to believe it. Still, doubt clouded his mind as inch by inch the wolf pulled himself from his hiding place and shook off, trying his best to remain as casual as possible. He even went as far as to yawn and stretch out his muscles, giving the appearance he had simply been catching an afternoon snooze before turning to scale down the mountainside.

A figure conveniently caught his attention, of course, and the eta paused as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh, hey, boss!" he called lowly, trotting up towards him and immediately aiming to lick the underside of the alpha's chin with flattened ears and a tucked tail. It was how his father would have wanted to be greeted: with complete and absolute submission; he was certain Fitz would want that as well. Sigh.