Ankyra Sound you're stuck with yourself and a rage that can hurt you

play with meeeeee

Lycaon poked noiselessly and aimlessly around the coast. he didn't feel like reconciling with his brother yet, petty anger still astir despite the pangs of contrition that occasionally troubled his conscience. he'd had a... lukewarm... reception to his brother's attachment to childhood idylless, and the pale wolf fought back anticipatory dread that he would soon be deserted, again, by Ingram in favor of his new amour.  

to disperse some of this angst, Lycaon sought something new to focus on, something more productive than simply fuming over a situation he had no control over. he picked a furtive path to the tidal flats sidling the sound -- a place he and Caiaphas frequented when he was a boy and new to the methods and crusty means of a coastal wolf. he knew, thanks to mana, the way to find gapers and cockles and crab was to look for quarter-sized depressions in the substrate, so he kept a sharp eye for pinholes in the clambeds as he combed the length of the gelid tract. 

after some time he espied something promising. "look what we got here!" he tee-hee'd to himself, encircling the telltale breathing hole of some coveted mollusc with pert giddiness, tail lashing and tongue lolling from his mouth. his paws set to the task of spading heaps of sand out of the way, expecting his glorious bounty to be unearthed with ease. 

after every rake of his paw, he jammed his head into the dugout and inspected it optimistically, only to be met with disappointment when there was no reward awaiting the incurable clutch of his jaws. with a huff he returned toiling away at the hole, digging himself deeper and deeper until only his bottom was above ground.