Moonspear beating wings they whisper, a baby's breath

He is loath to disturb the boy's hunt; he makes no motion to step forward or back, his body still. Instead, his sapphire eyes are fixed first on Arcturus, then the opposite bank, looking for frogs. They had a tendency to blend in with the murky ecosystem, but their beady eyes usually stuck out among the reeds. And where there was one, there must be more. Llewellyn just hopes the first attempt hadn't scared the others away for good, today.

"Do you see anything?" he asks softly, lips barely moving. His voice is a ragged whisper on the wind--he trusts it is enough to reach the pup's ears. Besides the customary hum of insects and sounds of an alpine forest, it was very quiet; each word fell like stones into a pool, rippling out. Every syllable somewhat consequential. He knows well that his rumbling tones could alarm the prey, just as much as a twitch of his body could.