Sea Lion Shores water in my lungs

With a certain caution he hadn't practiced in months, Redshank carefully turned the strange, round object over with a forepaw. It rolled easily, revealing a small crack down the middle which revealed a pale, sweet-smelling interior. He stared unblinkingly at it with a crinkled nose, having never been one to indulge in anything other than meat and so found the scent mildly repulsive. He quickly decided against bringing it back, turning away from the fallen fruit with a snort before suddenly bristling as he found himself in the company of a stranger.

He was a lofty man, with an interesting, monochromatic coat that seemed like it had run out of ink from his head down, but Redshank's eyes were immediately drawn to the various scars that cut across his body in thick bands. Did he lose in a fight against every bear in the Wilds? He thought back to the haggard stranger who only recently joined their ilk in Ironsea, and began to wonder if he would turn out as horrendous as them if he spent any more time on the coast.

His raspy greeting was not missed, and the boy's fiery gaze flicked up to meet the man's icy one. Redshank didn't hide the fact that he was summing the stranger up in silence, expression pulled into its usual look of irritable moodiness. He let the words hang in the air for a moment or two longer before uttering, "th'fuck do y'want?"