Silvertip Mountain Arm yourself because no one else here will save you.
uncurbed, unreined, and riderless
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All Welcome 
The odds will betray you.

His heart was full of happiness. That was what it felt like to Mason. He had been seeing a lot more of Zari recently – she liked to hang around with June and himself and Fitz. He knew she had made Beta. This worried him a bit – but he was sure that when he was older he could bump her down and take the plinth next to Dad (or rule as Betas together…?!) . He had caught a couple of suspicious shifty glances between her and Dad when he or June popped in and out of the den unannounced, as they were now allowed out all day on their own if they wanted.

Mason was doing this today. An autumn sun blazed overhead, warming his wispy fur and sending it a glistening off-white. Only the muddy patches blended in with the ground – otherwise he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the trees and rocks around him. Dad promised that when the snow came, Mason would be cloaked in the perfect camouflage. Mason was interested to see snow, and it seemed to be threatened on an evening when sharp cold set in.

For now he was toastier than he had been for weeks. He trotted along a well-worn trail of the mountain near the borders, orange eyes drinking in his home, the occasional wag of his tail announcing his good mood.

And I will replace you. 
Alpha
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FitzDutiful was very aware that what he was doing could be seen as wrong. As much as he tried to reason with himself that it was in the children's best interest that he not make it clear the relationship between himself and Zaria, he wondered if it could be seen so clearly. He hadn't intended to sneak around so much but some of the activities that he could get up to now... they were fun, he wanted more of them.

And so, sneaking around he was, while maintaining a calm exterior before Mason and June. As he trotted around the borders, happy that they were well intact, he spotted little Mason in the distance. Well, not so little any more, but still not full grown. "Hey son," he said, as he got within earshot, his long legs easily making up the distance, "Doing your share of border patrols?" he asked.
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Mason’s ears flicked backwards at the sound of an approaching wolf. Instinctively his hackles fluffed out, all cottony soft fur, and his tail rose. All defensiveness left him when he turned to spot a pale grey wolf, and he heard his Dad’s voice float across. Mason allowed his father to approach before he spoke, tail wagging behind him as he reached up to bump the underside of FitzDutiful’s chin with his nose. 

“Hey Dad, yeah I’m just lookin’ around. Makin’ sure there’s no baddies.” Mason grinned up at his father, who would always be taller than his son thanks to Mason’s stunted, slender legs. It appeared that Zaria and his Dad were doing an amazing job of sneaking around, as Mason had no clue about their burgeoning relationship. It did help their case that he and June were still all childhood naivety. 

“What have you been doing?” he asked as he turned to continue on his trail, fully expecting his Dad to fall in line and walk with him.
Alpha
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Mason's little face beamed up at him, and FitzDutiful smiled back; he loved his son more than anything in the world and it almost broke his heart to keep things from him. Almost. It would be a lie to say he wasn't enjoying having a little bit of Zaria to himself, besides, they got on so well that he was bound to be happy. But that was in the future, for now, patrol.

"Border patrol," he said, as if he didn't anything else. He really didn't and he needed to. What ever happened to his joy of plants or his desire to counsel? It was concerning that he had let both of those trades slip away. Still, maybe a mastery of one rather than a scattered understanding of three was the best choice? Or maybe he should mix things up and drop one away.

"Do you remember what you're doing?" he asked Mason, turning his thoughts away from difficult tasks and onto wardenship instead. He had given them the basics when they started leaving the den, but he'd never been on an official patrol with his son. "Remember what signs to look for?"
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Dad began to walk with him, and he admitted that all he had been doing was border patrol. “Dad,” Mason giggled affectionately, “you need to getta girlfriend.” He knew the gist of mateship through discussions with Dad about the Redhawk Caldera alphas and their brood, and how he had  got together with Raissa. Although he could tell FitzDutiful didn’t feel overly comfortable discussing his ex-mate, he was always willing to answer any question Masona had about his past mother. Thanks to this, Mason didn’t feel that is was shameful to have an absent mother, and he didn’t really feel her loss. Perhaps June would feel it more as she got older, because she was a girl, but there were a few female pack members who could answer her womanly queries.

The slip of a lad then turned his mind to the question at hand, thinking carefully over what his Dad had taught him about border patrols. Honestly, though he loved to range his homeland, Mason wasn’t overly enthusiastic about border patrols. He used the time to review the landscape, find hidey holes, and attempt to find some of the herbs Dad had described to him. “Erm…” he faltered, feeling a bit ashamed, because his mind was at a blank. Like an exam, he felt the need to say something rather than nothing, and supplied: “check there’s no scents of other packs…?” He looked at his Dad for help, hoping for a bit of prompting as they traversed the lands.
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FitzDutiful started for a moment, before giving a slight gruff of a laugh at his son's outburst. "I suppose I do" he murmured, feeling as though the time was become right for him to tell them about Zaria. If his son was telling him to get a girlfriend then he would no longer be upset about FitzDutiful replacing Raissa.

He focused his mind on the warden task at hand and nodded when Mason asked his question, he knew his son wasn't all that intrigued with the warden trade but he felt it was important for his children to know the basics. It was part of pack life to mark the borders and check for intruders, even if it wasn't a daily task. Any new pack for his children would expect them to patrol on occasion. "Not just other packs though. There are other things that can be dangerous; other creatures that live around the lands. You need to make sure the borders smell strong and mark any weak spots so everyone knows we claim this land." He indicated his nose at one of those weak spots., wondering if Mason would have a go at marking it.
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Mason chuffed quietly to himself when Fitz explained there were other things to worry about. He would later learn a harsh lesson in the ‘other creatures’ category with Shardul. 

Dad pointed at a ‘weak spot’ Mason surmised, when he inhaled and realised it wasn’t as strong as the nearby areas. Mason wondered whether they all smelled the same because they lived in the same area, or if they somehow acquired the smell when they became a Silvertip wolf.

Mason walked squarely into the centre of the weak spot and laid down. Then with a glance at Dad, he rolled himself over onto his back and began squirming around. He was sure he was adding brown spots of earth to his brown-splotched back, but he didn’t mind. It was quite fun – Mason giggled as he twisted his abdomen this way and that, moving as he want, hopefully dredging his scent into the earth. 

After a minute he stopped, panting from the vigour in an excited manner, and looked up at his dad like the pup he still was. “That do?” 
Mason righted himself within a second flat, basically jumping to his feet, and the sniffed at the ground critically.
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FitzDutiful looked at his favourite son as Mason wandered over to the empty space. He waited his the leg to raise when Mason rolled on the floor instead. A moment of confusion crossed over FitzDutiful and his face scrunched up in bewilderment though he tried to hide it when Mason looked back at him. How was that supposed to help? FitzDutiful couldn't even fathom how that was supposed to help at all and so he decided it was better to correct than just tell him he was wrong.

Wandering over, he sniffed the spot - yes it was stronger but it involved so much effort. "I suppose that works," he started, quietly - talking to himself more than Mason. "It's better however to just lift your leg and spray the spot a little bit. It requires less effort and provides a stronger scent." Deciding it might be worth showing, FitzDutiful walked to a nearby tree and sprayed the spot. "Give it a try?" he asked, though the question sounded a bit more statement than question.