Gilded Bay One too many

Crabs. 

Odd creatures, always angry and hostile, and therefore deserving of Brontide's attention. He'd purposefully step on the plaited armour of their back, avoiding those painful pincers and squish them into the soft sand repeatedly until they either cracked under the pressure or stopped fighting back, earning his disinterest and their own freedom. 

He dawdled haphazardly along the beach, aimlessly drifting this way and that, allowing the waves to wash over his paws occasionally, and side-stepping to avoid sharp shells that stuck up out of the sand. The water smelled odd, but not unpleasant. He'd tried to drink it earlier and had turned away in disgust. Something was wrong with it. 

Eventually, he saw a tan form in the distance and stubbornly refused to give up his path to avoid her. His yellow eyes flickered when he caught her scent and found himself smirking lightly. The intensity of his gaze increased as the two drew closer, and his eyes roved over her body selfishly. He snorted, once she was within earshot. 

"Yer Ma get screwed by a chipmunk er wha?" he called, gesturing to the lines down either side of her spine. He laughed. "At least he wouldn'a lasted long!" he said, followed by more laughter, harsh and brittle at the same time.