Stavanger Bay hollow earth

wow so i suck <3 pping to tack on a conclusion, yell at me if not ok (but not too mean plz ok)

dogs were ever the bane of shardik's life; he cursed them, hated them - he wished to see them perish under the wicked clench of his paw, crumbling off like bitter clumps of sand between his long claws.

these dogs were tenacious - they bit and they tore, and they dragged his fury out until it was spent. for every sting they delivered, he gave them an equal wallop -- at last, his energies were spent, and they, working in tandem, managed to elude him.

but he would not leave -- no -- not even the driving bite of their sharp teeth could force him to leave a space he deigned to occupy; with guttural growls he fended off each approach with a rough slap: he didn't know it, but they had worked together to keep him from the rest of the horde.

he had wounds to nurse, and with a loud grumble after a feeble swipe of his claws, shardik lurched in the direction of their cache: it appeared so long as he did not hunt the dogs, they did not engage him -- with a glutton's lusty fervor, shardik gorged -- and gorged -- and gorged --

meanwhile, the dogs slipped by him, craftier, smarter, and ultimately, still alive.