Sequoia Coast but life is long my love is gone away

indebted to his determination to lay waste he gave little more than a dry, grating caw in return to the coywolf's salut – the sluggish dither of his wings and the ruckusing of the seagulls' would be plenty to turn nearby eardrums into porridge.

caiaphas took to the grisly volley like a natural and he saw potential in it, one of his beady eyes, affluent with sadistic fondness, tracking her harrowing blows. he gave her gratified, gibbering feedback each time she connected her mark. rarely was there ever another who shared his affinity for seagull genocide.

catching one of the smaller gulls in the dragnet of his talons, he snapped both of its pinions and cast it unceremoniously to the beach-turned-feather-mattress. it thrashed incapably where it landed, dragging itself along the ground with no use to be had of its shattered wings and a wretched mewing noise scraped from its throat as bartok descended upon the contagion and tore what remained of it to pieces.