For @Cortland!
![[Image: oWQXunB.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/oWQXunB.jpg)
After a short stint on the coast, he heads inland once more, the ocean reminding him too much of home to bear. A great pasture extends before him, now, teeming with both flora and fauna, as suits a summer field. Llewellyn winds his way through the tall grass tonight, the silvery sliver of the crescent moon granting him some light to travel by as he stalks a rabbit trail, nostrils flared as he pursues the small game.
Having been on the run for some time, the prince has neglected his appetite, only eating when absolutely necessary--when the emptiness of his stomach becomes painful, rather than merely uncomfortable. That point is drawing near once more, and he knows he must eat within the next couple of days, or he fears he will lose all his energy outright. . .and what should happen, if Ioan's rangers find him here, weak and defenseless? The line of Gwynedd will be utterly demolished, should that come to pass.
Belly rumbling like thunder, Llewellyn comes to a halt, the small pitter-patter of tiny feet reaching his ears, barely audible over the sound of evening insects and the rustle of wind through the brush. Still, he hears the quarry, and his sapphire eyes narrow, his muscles clenching as he lowers to a crouch. The scent swells, growing stronger, and he spies a dark shape amidst the grass, moving just slightly; the twitch of its muscles is what gives it away.
But perhaps it is his own subtle twitches that give him away, for in mid-pounce, the rabbit bounds clear, racing through the grass. Llewellyn is a big man, however, with long legs, and within seconds, he is upon the creature. No time at all passes between his killing bite to the spine and his consumption: shred after ravenous shred is swallowed with minimal chewing, bones shattering between his teeth, the meager meal barely sating his appetite.
He has eaten now, though, and now he sits in the starlight, licking the blood from his chops as he takes a moment's rest to puzzle out what is next for him.
Having been on the run for some time, the prince has neglected his appetite, only eating when absolutely necessary--when the emptiness of his stomach becomes painful, rather than merely uncomfortable. That point is drawing near once more, and he knows he must eat within the next couple of days, or he fears he will lose all his energy outright. . .and what should happen, if Ioan's rangers find him here, weak and defenseless? The line of Gwynedd will be utterly demolished, should that come to pass.
Belly rumbling like thunder, Llewellyn comes to a halt, the small pitter-patter of tiny feet reaching his ears, barely audible over the sound of evening insects and the rustle of wind through the brush. Still, he hears the quarry, and his sapphire eyes narrow, his muscles clenching as he lowers to a crouch. The scent swells, growing stronger, and he spies a dark shape amidst the grass, moving just slightly; the twitch of its muscles is what gives it away.
But perhaps it is his own subtle twitches that give him away, for in mid-pounce, the rabbit bounds clear, racing through the grass. Llewellyn is a big man, however, with long legs, and within seconds, he is upon the creature. No time at all passes between his killing bite to the spine and his consumption: shred after ravenous shred is swallowed with minimal chewing, bones shattering between his teeth, the meager meal barely sating his appetite.
He has eaten now, though, and now he sits in the starlight, licking the blood from his chops as he takes a moment's rest to puzzle out what is next for him.
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