Stavanger Bay What's this? What's this?

a howl cut through the ragged wind and sandpiper turned to face the gale, her expression squinting. it had come from the beach -- without pause she slipped into a lope that carried her efficiently through the sand and towards the source of the call.

as she rounded the curve of jagged rocks and bashed gneiss, the reason for the call was clear. ahead, some thing -- large and ponderous -- writhed on the beach. sandpiper cast awinita an unsure gaze but paused by a blackened slab -- in an athletic leap she clambered up the top of it and peered down at the thrashing porpoise. she knew better than to test her luck against it, and simply watched it with a somber and knowing silence. either the tide would come in and save it, or it would tire itself out before the rise of water offered it salvation.