Sea Lion Shores and like the sky my soul is also turning

She paced and huffed and sighed and groaned; stopping and starting, spinning and bolting -- her tapered and thin muzzle pressed earnestly into the wet sand and her eyes wide with prying wonder. Every new trinket was another amazement acknowledged into her illustrious fold; and within minutes the small stockade grew until it was a heap of indiscernible and worthless rubbish.

She froze suddenly, the furs on the back of her neck uplifted in silent alarm. Slowly she turned her head and glanced over her backside, her vehement gaze settling on the silent spectre that trailed behind her. She pivoted to face him -- unsure of his intentions. He was distinctly much larger than her, and far more hale in body -- and unsure of what to do she withered over the collection of bones and shale -- wondering innately if he was going to destroy her small collection of valued things.