Sea Lion Shores i can not boast

He let her go, shifting not a single strand of fur to follow her. Until she said something about grub. His attention from her had started to wane and drift out across the shoreline until she said that word. Then it snapped back like she had cast her line and hooked him in the ear.

"Grub?" He echoed, but he needed no confirmation. The insatiable Raptor was already bounding forward across the rocks and sand to her position, where he slid right up beside her shoulder to shoulder and peered into the pool she was looking into. He saw them too: the critters and plants. Raptor was not a fussy eater; the only thing he preferred was that he did not have to work hard for his food. Except when he stole it. But thievery her saw more as a game; entertainment.

The dark wolf swiped his long tongue along his lips and then splash! he drove his face in. He snapped and slurped and stirred the water into a soup of floating dirt and seaweed and any critter too small to fight the eddies he made. By all accounts, his actions seemed to be accomplishing nothing more than the creation of a noisy mess and the ruining of all chances for a snack. But then — plop! clack! and other such noises! — so-called grub started landing on the rock that embraced the pool.

Kelp fronds, periwinkles, a scuttling crab. The pirate kept flinging these things ashore until he had amassed a small but appreciable pile. He might have kept going, but he had found an urchin. This spiky, seemingly inedible thing was a prize. One he held delicately, skillfully, between his fangs in such a way as to spare his tongue from the spines. He grinned however much he could in Sandpiper's direction, his face dripping with water, and his tail sweeping the stone as he eagerly wondered if she knew how to eat these things.

He did...