Stavanger Bay look there's a full moon, i'm looking at you

@Raptor - fyi there is some sandpiper stream-of-consciousness here that is her thoughts on other wolves and not mine so i apologize for her brattiness/emotional brittleness when she refers to your poor undeserving characters as something insulting. 

these days, sandpiper spent more time avoiding members of her pack than socializing with them. everyone had let her down in one way or another, as far as she was concerned. smokestep was too good, and she couldn't measure up to him. rosalyn had bested her and everyone liked her -- what did that harlot have that sandpiper didn't (besides a lack of personality, obviously) - it made sandpiper shrivel inwardly in anger.

speaking of harlots - erzulie scared the everloving piss out of the girl - she was pretty, which sandpiper hated - but she also seemed to know more than sandpiper did, and that made sandpiper mad too.

awinita had died, not that sandpiper had any love for the wolf, but she was at least a familiar face -- engel was off doing whatever (probably ignoring her, sandpiper thought insecurely), arturo seemed utterly indifferent to sandpiper's existence as well, and everyone else she either didn't know, or didn't care enough about to bother getting to know them.

oh, and raptor.

raptor had stuck his dick in the first thing with a pulse to come along (a greasy, grey-haired shrew of a pulse none-the-less -- certainly not as pretty as sandpiper), and fuck sandpiper, right? who cares about sandpiper and her feelings?

obviously, no one did.

armed with these incredibly vitriolic thoughts, sandpiper sat on a sun-dappled boulder, her face set into a gruesome scowl.