Ankyra Sound Mont Blanc Radiance

val remembered when he was younger, much like dwin, he was more fascinated in looking at his lunch than eating it. more than once, a gorgeous waterfowl or handsomely feathered grouse had eluded his teeth for sheer want of his adoring curiosity.

but as an adult, val had starved. he learned that living things were a commodity, not a rarity; a resource, not a source of wonder. and if he did not strike quickly, his stomach forewent its lunch.

i would have to talk very loudly for them to hear me. val mused, thinking of each stranded creature he'd come across. with the exception of the very large thing i saw out in the stacks, all of them were dead. what killed them? that's what worries me. not them, but the thing that made it so their only recourse was to run to the beach where they died.

at this point dwin had managed to extract a crab herself. this thing did not flee as quickly - instead it raised its pincers over its carapace and gurgled its displeasure. careful, they pinch. val reminded her, recalling his first woeful encounter with a crab. now you kill it. unless you want to go hungry. gulls will take them and drop them from great heights to kill them and break their exoskeleton. we do not have wings, so we have to what wolves do best. val leaned forward, his lean shoulders hunched. grab it by a pincer and smash it against the sand until its dead.