Sea Lion Shores the preacher in a t-shirt told me i could be a leader

It took him ages to finally knot the dried seaweed around the sticks. Actually, he didn’t tie it so much as wrap it over and over and over until they were securely bound together. Caracal then placed the talisman on the sand to admire his handiwork. He’d seen this symbol in his dreams the other night and though his was a crude replica—it looked much more like an “X” than a proper cross—he was pretty darn proud of it.

He snatched it up in his teeth and went striding along the beach, keeping an eye out for his wife and kids. Caracal wanted to show them what he’d crafted. He didn’t see anybody around the south side of the island, though an absent glance at the mainland across the channel made Caracal do a double take. His mouth fell open, the makeshift crucifix nearly tumbling out only to be caught when he clenched his teeth an instant later.

He was in the water, shouting garbled things around the object in his mouth. (Even in his distraction, he refused to let all those hours of hard work sink to the ocean floor.) Very noisily, he swam toward the shore where his daughters were entirely too close to a large and very frightening stranger.

As soon as he felt the sand under his feet, Caracal launched out of the water and sprang toward the wolf with the marred face. He didn’t attack him outright, though he attempted to get in between him and the girls. Successful or not, he whirled on the man and finally released the cross, only to grab it in a fist and thrust it in the man’s scarred face.

THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU! Caracal menaced.