after his charming encounter with the ruddy mongrel, copper, known only to the raven as "death in a nutshell," bartok forsook the great bear wilderness and made the long haul back to the coastline where he was more or less gladly received by its residents (mostly less).
it was early evening by the time he rocked up to the seaside, where the surf gleaned its hues from a sky-mural embroidered of gold and rosy tint and crepuscular creatures began to mill about the dimming countryside.
copper had succeeded in his stealth – the raven had nary a clue that he was being tracked by the injured brute. and, by his luck, bartok was tending to an empty stomach come the sunset hour.
roaming overhead he scoped out the area, taking stock of movement below for any leads conducive to a viable feast – and, finding nothing, he vacated the skies to forage amongst a thicket plentiful with berries.
Copper was following the bird, when it wheeled around, and he lost it. Goddamn! Luckily, for the Coppery king, he had managed to kill a bird, en route to wherever this "Bartok" was headed. But now, he lost the damned thing. Oh well. He could find something on this open shore, for sure. He walked over to the coastline, and, suddenly, it receded. Copper followed it. Then, suddenly, It came back quickly. With a yelp, he recoiled from the water. Copper had neigh an idea how to swim.
He just hoped he could find help, or some sort of food, soon. Maybe he could wade out into the water, and paw a fish out of the water. Nah, Copper wasn't a very talented fisherman. food should've just have fallen from the sky, begging for the king to even lay eyes upon it. But, sadly, this wasn't what he had dreamed about the nights before. No, no meat was raining from the heavens.
Copper perked his ears, when he heard a sound. He heard some wolves conversing, and barking. He set of toward the most peculiar sound.