it's going down, i'm yelling timber

It took a good five minutes to locate a suitable rock: almost square-ish, crudely jagged at the edges, and definitely heavy enough for her purposes. It took another five minutes or so to adjust her jaws around it to sufficiently carry it, though she stepped gingerly over the wet sand as she did; a trip or a fall could result in the chipping of all of her teeth, a sad fate for a wolf. She would not do with losing her primary weapons, not when she had finally taken up the calling of wolf and begun to devote herself to the protection of the pack, though in less-than-honourable ways.

When she finally lugged her rock over to the tide pools, she placed it down and began the search for crabs. One had strayed too near the edge of the water, and with a practiced swipe of her paw she was able to roll it out onto the sand, where it was exposed, but not yet vulnerable. A hermit crab claw peeked out briefly to ward off the threat, but just as quickly retreated inside again. Jinx, satisfied with this one — although it was small and would serve as little more than a snack — picked her rock up in her jaws again.

Her ears twitched back as a voice hailed her from the rear, warning her about playing with rocks. The Kappa turned so her body was perpendicular to Pump, with her head poised above the hermit crab and the stone weighing heavy in her jaws. Fixing the dark-furred female with a bored expression, as if to say I am not that stupid, she loosened her jowls and let the rock fall, and issued a satisfied smirk — now you understand? her face seemed to ask — when the sharp crack of shell resounded beneath it.