Hell

Her teeth splintered the thing and she dropped it herself, now. Her mates inquisitive look was responded with by her nosing the object toward him, so he could eat the meat it offered. The crawfish was small, but a tasty morsel. She had no name for it, she only knew its taste. There were plenty of them in the oceans she had been trained in, and other things like it—crab—that scuttled and tasted the same.

Tonravik looked back to the water with caution now. The waterbugs pinch were a nuisance. She was tolerant to pain, but if she could avoid it when unnecessary she would. Its pinch was less than enjoyable; she could remember her curiosity as a cub as she sniffed at one, and remembered better its grip upon her lip. The leader wrinkled her muzzle at the thought.