Stavanger Bay "choices: you've been wrong, and you've been cold."

every day, sandpiper coursed the coast. she was born for this -- every particle of her belonged on the strand, just like every particle of sand, and salt, and sea-worn stone. she could not imagine a life any other way; and for all the troubles she had found here, stavanger was still her home.

she sucked in her breath as she forded the water, which suckled around her legs and retracted in snarling white. she braced again as a wave slapped her chest, and braced once more as a following wave slammed against her face. it was cold, and powerful -- determined, she set her limbs into motion and made for the first lap in a series of laps she made daily.

but she was not alone - as she paddled further from land, this became more evident -- the triangular, chilling rise of a dorsal fin she knew all too well bode poorly for her. she started to paddle faster, to push -- but the waves were choppy and the sea did not favor her today. fuck, she thought to herself -- willing her panicked limbs to churrn faster, to dig deeper -- and knowing that in all likelyhood her chances of survival were slim.

the fin circled closer in leisurely pace, the dark form of a leviathan shadowed beneath translucent blue waves.

 a dull black eye turned towards her. affectionless. hungry. rows of serrated teeth scattered like buckshot.

and then, the fin surged forward - and in an instant, sandpiper was sucked underwater as a spread of grim maroon bloomed the surface of the roiling sea.