Sequoia Coast you're tearing me apart, lisa

his tail was a sopping wet, high-flying flag on his back. he pranced gamely back in the direction of the strand after a couple of hours of harassing ducks in their wintering grounds amidst the estuaries adjacent to the coast. he was pleased as a peach with himself and with his compensation — it was no mallard, but a mere stroke o’ luck.  a vagrant shrew, clutched in the glove of his mouth. it was no surprise that the bodies of rodents were susceptible to a lousy degree when it came to swift and unwitting executions whilst scurrying across the path of a large animal. it had startled him into the air with the vaulting footwork of a hare, and as he was recalled to earth by gravity, levied against the thing a reflexive smite of paw—an instant and meaningless dispatch from existence. 

he crested a hill, and all at once heard a skreak and the distressed clamor of his brother. his jowls relinquished the shrew, hackles skewered aggressively as he lopped down towards the farrago comprised of his packmates and wolves unfamiliar to him. hostility rippled through the assembly. 

and then the youngest Grimnismal was set upon; Lycaon arrived at the scene in a flurry of white and gnashing teeth, disregarding Ingram for the moment as tension detonated into violence. his eyes turned to Blixen, and as the red female uttered glottal words he could not discern, he cut in with a threatening lour and stalked forward—”call off your bitch, sunshine. or i will.”