Stavanger Bay let me down so i can fly, fly, fly

it was good then that sandpiper's mouth was presently occupied, otherwise she might have laughed to see a wave swallow raptor's form and nearly have its way with him. she swallowed the snigger back quickly and nearly dropped the supplicating present she clutched: maybe if he was closer he might have seen the conflicting expressions of mirth and guilt fight equally for traction across her ginger muzzle.

he looked miserable -- he really, truly did -- sandpiper felt a little guilt trickle in there, and looked away for a moment to collect her thoughts. she tried to remain indifferent, ambivalent even, as she slowly placed the carapace down on the sand just out of the lapping wave's reach. she knew she was likely culpable for the wretched complexion that raptor wore, and she only just barely could hold his gaze as she offered her meager truce: a sea-battered, sandpaper-chewed and definitely dead horse-shoe crab.