Oystercatcher Tide Pools A man with intent on his face

Feathers were pucked in clumps, leaving parts of the lifeless bird bare for the world to see. The Bull feasted, consuming what little meat there was with teeth snapping bone as if they were twigs. It would do little to fill the bottomless pit of his stomach. Yet the male was all too used to running on the minimum. His ears pointed casually towards the seaside, notably posed towards the basking wolf; an activity the royals tended to enjoy yet the Bull formed no option over. His time had been spent observing their careless spawn; one or two might have been claimed by the ocean itself and none cared much for the weak nor for the ugly. The "Knight" learned to look the other way.

The titan shifted; large paws spreading across the uneven terrain as he left behind bone and feather and approached. Merely a looming figure of scruffy, wind-swept fur. His heated gaze fixated on the black wolf just out of his grasp. The waves lapping at the tips of his toes, but he dare not enter the ocean's embrace.