Sea Lion Shores danger close

Three hundred for you. ♥

Let me know and I can change this to whatever date is best before I archive!

Szymon had gorged himself, but the thought of leaving such a fine kill behind still rankled; a brushfire of ginger-tipped hackles rippled to life across his withers and down his spine. The old Cairn arrogance warred with his natural inclination to claim only the lowest rung of any given hierarchy — she had commanded him, “Come,” her voice imperious, but he was not her pet. His golden gaze flickered uneasily from Moorhen’s chin to the thick, rich meat, and then he threw himself down upon it, rolling and rolling until all that fine white fur was painted a garish red that appeared black in the waning light. As he left it, he lifted his leg and marked it with a stream of urine — not a very impressive scent signature, honestly, given his loner status.

He plunged into the icy water after Moorhen, surfed ashore, and though his flanks streamed pinkishly as he blew saline from his nostrils, he appeared oddly serene. For a moment, he took in the surroundings, and when he bent to sniff at the trunk of a nearby tree, there was a twinge of…some distant familiarity. He couldn’t place it, though, and dismissed it as unimportant. The wood pile claimed his full attention, then. It was a splendid work of architecture — and LORT, he knew a thing or two about architecture. I mean, did you see the rock thing that Doe and Skellige had him make? Carefully, “It is nice,” he complimented, and maybe a ghost of the old warmth flickered beneath the roughened gravel of his baritone. His voice had been beautiful once, but the music had died when Doe had left him.