The turtle had been evading him all summer. It seemed to taunt Nicholas as it watched the little badger creep close, doing his best to not stir the water. And then slip-drop! away it would slide into the pond’s murky depths and between the cattails before Nicholas could get too close. But today would be different. He moved slowly, like the heron, patient, quiet. The turtle didn’t seem to care that the hunter was moving in to strike. Just a few more feet now…