Cerulean Cape Anenthemonae

I fancy myself above catching crabs. Hati would return with a scoff and the idlest raise of his white chin. 

But really, what good did it do him to cling to a station he was long removed from?

..But... you seem like you could use the help. He'd drawl out with an air of scrutiny, and raise one white-toed paw from the water, casting a brief glance to be certain this tidepool had not dirtied his precious feet. 

He helped because he could, because the boy so clearly needed the guidance of someone apt and skilled, and certainly not because the challenge had been placed before him. He didn't know what had called him out here, what had spurred him to approach the crab-hunter, be it misplaced curiosity, or reckless abandon of everything that he was once made of, he was here, hunting crabs, because the alternative was to dwell on festering hatred and boyish jealousy. 

Truth be told, he was not above anything, not anymore. 

but how hard could hunting a crab be, afterall? He would approach one of those watery nooks, and disturb a crab into taking up arms against him. Valiant little beast, it flared its pinchers at its much larger opponent, and Hati would make the mistake of slamming a paw down unto it, intent on pinning and then tearing the claws from its body; he would not get quite so far, as the crabs claw would pinch onto one of his toes as he held it to the ground, causing him to flail back in a graceless dance, caterwhauling back into the shallow waters and coating his pristine black fur in a blanket of saltwater, the crab still attached despite it all. 

In his panic, he had been lucky enough to smash the crab off of a rock, not only stunning it, but at last freeing his poor white toes from its herculean grip. He spat out seawater and delivered a finishing bite to the crab's shell, crushing it. 

His fur was ruffled and soaked, and a miserable expression had found its way onto his features. 

Not a word. His ichorous gaze said loud and clear.