Stavanger Bay let me down so i can fly, fly, fly

He had stowed himself away to a corner of the bay following the altercation. There he perched at the rugged and sea-slicked edge of a rock and allowed the waves to ride up the stone face and crash into his snout and over his back. The ocean swell was minimal or else he might have been swept into the tides and any other wolf not born of the coast still might have been. But he was used to treading uneven and slippery surfaces — the pads of his feet were calloused and coarse for gripping them — and this was not the first time he had sulked in this fashion.

Raptor did not care to admit to nor be seen as capable of feeling such weak emotions as hurt. He and Sandpiper were not unlike in this way. The rhythmic onslaught of the sea was strangely remedial and he hoped it would cure him of his upset before it was noticed... but even through the sting and spray of the waves he could see her coming down the shore. Raptor groaned. He was not ready for company and just seeing the fire of her pelt seemed to whip the smoldering cinders of his insult into an erratic flame again.

She drew nearer, and with his attention momentarily elsewhere, a rogue wave took him by surprise. Raptor inhaled just as it smacked his face and as the wave receded he clambered to his paws coughing and spluttering... and there she was having probably seen it all. The sable pirate scowled down from his throne of righteous ire, soggy and dripping, looking just as miserable as he felt and bristling as he anticipated a barrage of ridicule and insults.