Cerulean Cape crustacean frustration

Pipit was in awe of the sea. She had seen bays and waterfalls, and all manner of great lakes and rivers, but no body of water seemed to compare to the magnified, salt-heavy god that was the ocean. She had been too wary of its winter crashing and the staunch chill it imposed upon the beach, but as the winter day had become uncharacteristically clear, she found a rare opportunity to travel down to the beach and observe calmer waters.

She was distracted by the sight of a wolf. He was rugged and windswept, tall and colored in a way that reminded her of a rainy mountainside. Interested, she approached, intent on a happy greeting— that was, until she noticed what he was doing. Immediately, she made about ten thousand assumptions.

"Hey!" she said sharply, her voice rising in unfamiliar indignance. "Don't torture it! What's wrong with you?" Pipit snapped as she fearlessly dove forward, though didn't directly threaten the stranger. Using a careful and swift cat's paw, she scooped the struggling crab back onto its stomach without getting herself pinched, and watched as it lifted its claws threateningly at them. Her head clipped back towards the male, a bi-colored frown marring her otherwise very sweet face.

She seemed to realize herself, perhaps feeling the foreign scowl on her face, so she blurted: "I'm sorry, but— but that was really mean of you! You should've just killed it instead of trying to bury it alive." She was thrown entirely from how she had initially wanted to approach him, and clearly didn't know that crabs buried themselves all the time, hardly minding a little sand bath like that.