Moonspear looking for an avenue to simply appear

When it seemed that she was not about to cart him off to rat him out at the end of their conversation, he found himself beaming at the prospect that she was willing to drag him out and along for things. Hunting was a sure thing, but guarding? That had a note of intrigue to it—his mother had taught them all the little aspects of how to defend themselves just as much as they had learned the offensive tactics through their own wrestling and playing, but to put it to use was a premise that drew great interest. He would certainly have to find her later to take her up on that offer, and to rub it in the face of his siblings too.

Appeased and just as willing to appease her right back, he gave his aunt a sure nod and turned back to the tall grasses and their buggy quarry. He could give this another go, no problem. Sinking down into the grasses, he grasped at patience’s tail as though it were really there, something he could hold, and focused on the springing little bugs. They watched him just as he did they and gently the boy crept forward. One bug leapt one of the way and another one shuffled in preparation, but they fell right into his ploy.

He sprang—the grasshopper was seized, crushed beneath his paw as it slammed down.

Success!