Sequoia Coast i've seen finer gods than you, child, and i've swallowed them whole—

Eyes on the prize, Natjuk steadies himself and attends the sea lion. It's not moving much. Each exhalation is highlighted by vapor expelled by its nares, obviously labored. If he does not slay it, some other inevitable will.

Plunging with a gaping mouth, he rends at the pinniped, cutting where its ribs should be. It writhes, issuing a warning and trying to take a chunk out of him as a result. Natjuk knows this dance all too well, backpedaling as soon as the blow lands. The sand here has been lapped by age-old waves but he gets away easily enough, buckling ever so slightly with each step. Not the perfect escape but his attack tipped him off to something about the sea lion's throat, cutting into its blubbery neck. Whatever it is, it has been there for a while, reeking of infection and exposing pink tissue below. So that is what's wrong with it.

He circles it. It is still in charge of most of its faculties. The fact remains: it is dying. Slowly and tortuously, choked by man's credulous hand. What a cruel fate. Collared and exterminated by plastic.

Natjuk lunges, again and again, wearing away at the beached animal. It grows complacent with each successful blow. It slows. It doesn't bat an eye at his savagery. The will to live has been sapped by the packaging strap now wound so, so tightly around its throat...Natjuk tries to end it, having never been one to play with his food. With some work, his teeth find the sea lion's throat and effectively ends it.

He studies the flesh brought on by some ruthless force. The strap is so deep within the lion's neck that it is barely visible, ringed by rosy gore. A repulsive wound unable to heal.

Delving into the prey's midsection, Natjuk sups as kings do. Sad though the animal's circumstances may be, he gets to eat. For that, he is thankful.