Cerulean Cape crustacean frustration

The sea was calm, the skies clear, but there was an unmistakable chill on the breeze; winter had come, and soon the corsair would need abandon the coast that he had travelled for the past while. But for now, he was fine with the sand beneath his paws as he busied himself looking for something to eat. Truthfully, it was rare to find him not looking for something to eat.

Overhead the gulls wheeled, but he could charm none of them down with his clucking and cawing, however gull-like his racket might have sounded. Harumph. With a snort, Dragon loped further down the shore. He would find something. Or I'll eat my own tail. Except that he wouldn't. Someone else's tail? Perhaps. But there was no need; ahead the long frond of a beached-stranded kelp moved as a fat, barnacle-encrusted crab scuttled forth.

Crabs needed no finesse in their hunting, no real skill except to know where the look when one did not just scuttle out in front of your nose. So, Dragon barged forward like a slavering dog after a treat that had been thrown across the floor. He snatched the crab up without a care, and promptly found his tongue pinched. He caterwauled like a cat with its tail jammed in the window, and then shook his head enough that the crab was flung from his tongue and sent tumbling onto the sand.

Bristling, the insulted corsair stalked toward the crustacean. "Hah? Ye think ye got the best of me?" He licked his lips. The crab was upside down, attempting to use its claws to upright itself. But it wasn't having any success. Upon seeing this, Dragon plunked his arse down and flicked sand toward the crab. "Hah!" He put his hunger aside to watch the struggle with a shit-eating grin on his face.