Moonspear beating wings they whisper, a baby's breath

Everything came together perfectly. The boy was quiet, still; the frog that emerged to rest on the lilypad looked for all the world completely and blissfully unaware of the present danger. Llewellyn's eyes widen--he is afraid to even blink, for even the slightest movement could ruin the hunt. He holds his breath, watching and waiting. Nearer and nearer, the shadow slips--

The boy comes up short, the startled frog making his getaway a heartbeat before capture. The prince knows Arcturus will be disappointed by yet another negative outcome, and keeps his face neutral, thinking that even the slightest hint of distaste over his features might come off the wrong way.

"They are tricksters, frogs," Llewellyn murmurs, voice low and gruff. "Some even say they are shape-shifters, transforming into fish or snakes at their convenience." He gives a firm nod to the boy, gaze warm with praise. "You did well, Arcturus," he says. "You did everything right. Not every hunt can end in success. That is the way of the world."