Moonspear beating wings they whisper, a baby's breath

Life on the mountain is slow, compared to all he has endured these past moons. A rebellion, a bloody coup, ending in his family's deaths. Life on the run, having to disguise himself in conversations with even the most innocuous of strangers. All to protect his identity, his legacy. Now he finds himself as guardian of a mountain he scarcely knows, and it is a challenge more exhilarating than anything. So much to learn, and so much to do. A blessed distraction from the horrors of his past.

Llewellyn treads the stream today, taking comfort from the gentle babble of the water and the songs of summer birds in the trees. He is alone for a while, until a dark form ahead catches his attention--a wolf, by its scent, but too small to be one of the adult members of Moonspear. Remembering his encounter with the brown-pelted girl, he smiles gently, approaching the youngster with quiet but steady steps. The pup watches something by the shore, golden gaze fixed like a seal on its target.

He gives as low a chuff as he can muster, hoping not to startle the boy or his quarry. The golden prince settles low to the ground, inhaling deeply, having too just caught the scent of hare on the wind. His sapphire eyes flicker from the young man to the stream and back; he waits for the pup to address him on his own terms, but will give him a nod of greeting, when he decides to look Llewellyn's way.