Barrow Fields Bramble shark

just once, she looked behind her and saw that shardik had the assured step of a sea-hunter. his pantherine prowl earned him some small respect, but she turned back to the task at hand.

among the undulated sands, the adolescent continued his calling - no doubt signaling to the uninterested ladies his candidacy in this spring’s courtship. sobeille went wide, slipping around large stones and bodies alike — but her advancement was noticed by one particularly seasoned bull.

at first, she thought he was the bull from a few weeks prior - but a long scar across his fluke told her otherwise.

sobeille waited for shardik to get in position — and when he did, she did the opposite of a stealthy hunter, breaking cover in a howl as she drove the herd deliberately right to his doorstep.

how would he handle a swarm of fat bodies panicking his way?

The dark head of Sobeille appeared in a curious place. Swordfish’s eyes narrowed on her, wondering what on earth she was planning. When she began to rouse the blubbery animals from their sunbathing, stirring the shape of a mighty bull seal in the process, he clenched his teeth together and cursed through them.

Son of a bitch-

Swordfish wasn’t about to tango with a herd of seals. He watched them begin to bounce their way toward him, snorting and making a ruckus as they went. The young hunter moved to conceal himself behind a large boulder, crouching down low to watch the passing bodies. Anger flared through him.

When a majority of the seals had passed, moving on to safer shores, Swordfish lifted his head and glared at his hunting companion.

What was that fer? Ruined the whole thing…

sobeille watched, her heart thrumming against her chest. the herd became a stampede -- and while seals on land could hardly be called graceful, they were strong, and they were more efficient than one suspected.

what would he do, sobeille wondered?

would his eyes be eclipsed by terror? would he freeze?

would he try anyway, to assail the masses as they headed towards him?

would he be trampled underfoot? what would he look like, how dark would his blood stain the sand, how long would he struggle to hold onto the tentative sliver that was life?

he ducked behind the cover of stone while a roving sea of churning bodies split around him, thundering down the shore.

when at last they became a trickle, his form broke from the angled stone.

a glare hardened his gaze. sobeille registered it as anger. she shrugged, glancing past him where the heads of the seals bobbed along the waves.

i wanted to see what you would do.

Swordfish regarded her with a stare that said he was not amused. The sounds of the fleeing seals faded until they splashed into the waters and disappeared. As the young man watched the last of them, he felt his stomach clench in a combination of anger and hunger. They’d had an opportunity and Sobeille had spoiled it just to see how he might react.

Huffing a sigh, the young hunter moved from his place behind the boulder and slinked closer to the young woman. He didn’t want to look at her for fear that she would see the anger that bubbled beneath the surface of his eyes. Swordfish felt as though she had wasted his time.

Are ya satisfied den?

Heavy-lidded eyes shifted to her. The bear-hunter frowned.

she didn’t know why she did it. in the moment, it felt right. as the seconds passed, she felt no remorse.

was she satisfied?

cats were satisfied; in the way they occupied whole pools of sunlight, or played with their live food until their nerves gave out. sobeille was not a cat.

she blinked. no one had ever asked her this before. in fact, in most interactions it was she that pressed for answers; few wolves seemed genuinely interested in understanding what made her sobeille. only astera understood her — and even then, only the bits sobeille took careful pains to allow her to see.

no. came the delayed answer as she hungrily read the emotion in his eyes; anger that simmered like distant forest fires. how much would it take for him to act on that anger?

and what was he capable of once enraged?

No.

Swordfish huffed at her delayed response. Their time had been wasted, leaving the young man feeling prickly and hungry. The waves crashed against the shore, shifting his focus to watch the last of the seals vanish beneath the surface of the water and out of sight. It felt like a sick joke to be wrangled into hunting, only for his hunting partner to spoil any chance they might have had.

When he found composure, lingering on the edge of apathy, Swordfish returned his stare to Sobeille. She looked at him as though he might satisfy her simply by acting out. There was a hunger to her gaze that had nothing to do with pursuit of prey. Had the girl chased away the seals only to see how he might boil over with anger?

Well…

The young man blinked, frown etched upon his dark lips. The word hung in the air without a following statement, as though extending the opportunity for her to come up with their next plan.

there was something beautiful about anger: it was so clean, like the cut of bone —

but red, and deep like a scar —

alive and livening, like molten lava as it moves destructively over everything —

she saw that emotion move against shardik. how it came to life in a flare of livid red; how it turned to cosmic fire and then died, collapsing against the blackness of his pupil like the swallowing of a new moon.

she wanted to know these emotions: to feel them stir against her pelt and move her blood.

shardik recovered with a long stare. she wondered if he saw her — not her physical manifestation, but the thing behind it — and she wondered what it was like to be perceived.

a smile graced her features, but did not reach her eyes. you’ll get dem next time.

Maybe I will, he said, voice reflecting how unconvinced he was.

S’been fun. Another dismal statement. Swordfish had not had much fun at all. She had lured him in with the premise of food and then she’d chased their chance back to the waves. All she had to say for it was that he’d get them next time. Sure, he’d thought, if you’re not around my odds are greatly increased.

As curious as he had been about Sobeille, he was beginning to miss Lestan’s scattered babbling. At the very least, the Mayfair had not acted with the intent to spoil their plans. The same could not be said for the girl who had chased the seals.

See ya. Hopefully never.

Swordfish turned up the beach and began to make his way back to Ellie and Lestan.