Stavanger Bay for the winds that blow today,

if sandpiper was going to be gunner, striker, anything, she had better demonstrate her wares. and she had very little wares to speak of. it took two to spar, and she hardly wanted to ask rosalyn -- so smokestep seemed the natural contestant.

only, her soggy turnip of a brother had no intention of rising. with a flop, he was back on his lazy side with a rude yank of his neck -- sandpiper's eyes widened in affront and she growled as she attempted to wrap teeth around his scruff, giving him a few inciting, forceful tugs if she was able. "c'mon," she pleaded, muffled between all that fur -- can't you see she just wanted to play?