Oystercatcher Tide Pools of vagabonds and hermits

There was little else to be said – the introductions drifted to the wayside, and when his pale companion took his leave, Constantine only offered a nod of understanding, his eyes briefly studying the departing form of the ashen wolf.
 
His own thoughts drifted, and in turn, closer to home, he would continue to drop oysters, hoping to shatter more, and gain if only little sustenance. It was more than he had had in days, and while it was far from satisfying, it aided in ebbing the pang of hunger from his stomach.