Stavanger Bay league of extraordinarily grumpy gentlemen

Rusty. Getting back in the swing of things! Posts may be clunky for awhile. ;-;
Excuse Szymon while he tries to find a way to say, “Pee on your foot, kid.”

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“Sea urchin,” Szymon replied simply, pronouncing the words slowly and carefully. It was unlikely that the boy had ever seen or heard of the insidious creatures before, and for this reason — and a more selfish desire not to speak more than was absolutely necessary due to his stutter — Szymon felt Rannoch required a demonstration rather than a simple explanation. “Wait,” he instructed the hefty cub, “and do not g-g-go near it.” He rose, moving fluidly over the sand to one of the nearby caches, and returned with a thick haunch of rabbit clasped carefully in his jaws. “Watch,” he commanded Skellige’s turquoise-eyed ward, and deftly thrust the cut of meat below surface and directly into the waiting spines. Lifting his muzzle from the water, he angled the spine-riddled limb away from the boy and set it carefully upon the sand, shaking his head and shoulders to free his eyes of salt. With one careful paw, he pushed the rabbit-haunch-pincushion toward Rannoch so the young seawolf could examine it. “They c-cannot be p-p-pulled out,” he said. “It is b-best to avoid them, but if you g-g-get stung, the first thing to d-do is…” One ear swayed faintly to the side with displeasure as he muttered, “You m-m-must urinate on them. It is b-b-best to avoid them,” with disgruntled finality.

Without fear, he brushed the tip of his nose gingerly against one cracked spine. “S-S-See how they c-crumble?” he asked the Frostfur cub. “If you are s-s-stung, you will n-need a healer’s h-help to fight infection — but urine h-h-helps dissolve them.” He gestured with a quirk of his muzzle toward the pool. “Always b-be c-c-cautious. W-Watch.”

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