Stavanger Bay when he was a boy he wanted to play down by the sea

sandpiper had hoped to hear of a beating -- not a murder. when raptor revealed his darker intentions, she visibly recoiled and the scowl turned into one of revulsion. kill? she kept repeating what he said mentally - i tried to kill her, i tried to kill her. she couldn't reconcile it, couldn't make sense of it. she had hated that grey witch, but to kill her?

the notion seemed incompatible, inconceivable. sandpiper wrestled with what to say, wanting to scold him, wanting to leave. the frown of dislike to bear witness to such news was turned into a look of wounded anger when raptor finished.

she's probably going to have my pups.

sandpiper had never experienced the feeling of a heart sinking before; never experienced her guts fill with lead, her stomach drop to deep depths beyond a pelagic darkness. suddenly her throat was raw and her head swam in wounded recoil. she couldn't believe he could do that to her - selfishly, she wasn't even concerned about the peppered female -- she was concerned about how raptor had just done the equivalent of ripping out her tender heart and bashing it the way he had crushed horseshoe crabs against irrevocable stone.

"you.." she gulped, ears cupping back as she felt a snarl bubble in her throat. "you fucking asshole." and then, the cairn girl lunged at him as if with all of her might, muzzle contorted into a crippling snarl. she wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her, to show him how it felt to sink to new lows in pain -- but all she could manage to do was a half-hearted lunge at his throat before she turned around with a wild whimper and ran.