Gilded Bay i was born in a lighthouse, where my mother lay

yunxu has never lost control to a hunt before, and this will not be the first time.

there is no anger in this violence, with nothing driving him beyond hunger. it is unfortunate necessity, the way his partner’s limbs come up around their target, the way her teeth slide into the back of its neck.

yunxu comes up quiet and steady. sand sprays under his paws as she wrenches the seal’s head back. it barks and thrashes, twisting in her grip. the rest have already scattered for the sea, and the young shark is happy to let them flee.

his teeth come down on its neck, cutting smoothly through the heavy layers of fat. hot blood pours over his lips and mixes with the chill of the rain. the seal draws breath to shriek; the air bubbles from its torn throat and drips away on the wind.

it struggles for a long moment, growing weaker and weaker, until there is no longer a pulse to force its blood into his open jaws. it is only then he draws away, licking at the wetness collected on his chin.

over the corpse steadily cooling at their paws, yunxu bows his head.

so he was wrong.

“a good hunt. thank you,” he says. “i am yunxu jiāng.”