Galahad listens. His paws want to move, to skitter after every rustling leaf and bobbing head of phragmites, but he makes himself be still -- so, so still.
He doesn't know what to listen for in a frog, so he just listens. He hears the rippling of the lake and the tiny splash as a fish surfaces to snatch a gnat out of the air. He hears a beetle (a beetle! what if it's one he's never caught before? --no, still, still) creeping through the wet leaves that have collected at the edge of the water. He hears the sharp chip of a song sparrow in a buttonbush as it keeps an eye on him and Mothwing.
He hears the slow creak of a frog as its throat swells. Crack-ack. Crack-ack-ack. His ears swivel towards it and his whiskers quiver.
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2024-10-05 03:16 am (UTC)He doesn't know what to listen for in a frog, so he just listens. He hears the rippling of the lake and the tiny splash as a fish surfaces to snatch a gnat out of the air. He hears a beetle (a beetle! what if it's one he's never caught before? --no, still, still) creeping through the wet leaves that have collected at the edge of the water. He hears the sharp chip of a song sparrow in a buttonbush as it keeps an eye on him and Mothwing.
He hears the slow creak of a frog as its throat swells. Crack-ack. Crack-ack-ack. His ears swivel towards it and his whiskers quiver.
"Yes," he meows, so softly.