Gilded Bay no fun

The rolling tide and stormy clouds brought in the lone coyote from the lands to the west. He followed the oceanside, if only because it meant he had a ready supply of food, however meagre. He toyed with the idea of travelling inland but the scent of wolves kept him at bay. Eventually, though, he would have to. He cast a quick glance towards the sea, where the dark clouds sat looming over the horizon. A strong, cold breeze came from that direction, promising foul weather should it reach shore.

However, Sica wanted to satisfy his hunger before finding a place to sleep — preferably before nightfall. He quickly picked his way through the tide pools, slim snout to the ground and sharp eyes trained for any movement. A crab made an appearance suddenly, ducking out of sight and scuttling under a rock a second later. The hunter was determined, however, and swerved to pounce and shove his muzzle in the small crevice between the rocks. He snapped feverishly, scrabbling his paws against the ground as he tried to reach his elusive prey.