Cerulean Cape crustacean frustration

Pipit swallowed her terse disbelief at the stranger's words. He was a wolf with no sympathy for other living creatures, and though this didn't make him a terrible being in her eyes, it did make him ignorant. "Just because it's food doesn't mean it doesn't have feelings," the "hippie" scowled again. "And suffering isn't exclusive to hunger, or— or to just us! You're edible to a bear!" she spewed suddenly, as if such an example made any sense or difference to him. He was making her feel slightly hysterical, which she didn't like, but her competitive nature goaded her to be right. "Are you saying you wouldn't feel any suffering if one just decided to flip you over and throw sand all over you and you were all powerless and—"

Her voice had risen to a level she wasn't comfortable with, and with a quiet hmph! she ceased her tirade and plopped down on the half-frozen sand, setting herself into an ungracious pout. She didn't seem to be afraid of him, or concerned that he could turn on her if he chose— it didn't even seem to occur to her really— but rather than take her leave of the devilish swain, she just looked up and frowned at him. "Do you always torture your food before killing it, or do you have some decency somewhere in that fat head of yours?" That, was for calling her a girl.