Sea Lion Shores the halls of our fathers

Super Ragna!

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Fierce joy swept through Szymon as Ragna made a kill of her own, water spraying from her nostrils as she broke surface in a manner that he could only describe inwardly as beautiful. Around his own kill he chuckled, a muffled rumble of congratulations that gurgled with the chop of saltwater. He swam to shore beside the blue-eyed girl, emerging from the Sea with a heavy splash as Her arms sucked demandingly at his sides. Then, still holding tightly onto his kill — old habits died hard, and no matter how much he trusted Ragna, he could not afford to set down his hard-won prize — he shook the fur from his pelt. It sharpened, as it always did, into a salt-tipped disarray of urchin-like spines. Settling down on his stomach in the sand where She could still lap at his heels and tail, he swiftly dispatched his fish. “C-Careful of the f-f-fins,” he warned Ragna, nodding toward the remains of his meal. The fins were sharp and razor-edged, with spines to hold their shape.

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