Sea Lion Shores when i die, you can push me out to sea

Szymon’s instinctive response to stimuli of any kind was violence, pure and simple. His time as a mate and father had tempered this kneejerk reaction somewhat, but he hadn’t been either of those things for far too long. He roared up from the tangle of seaweed and flotsam with salt and foam at his lips, his golden eyes glittering with a desperate sort of defensiveness as he put distance between himself and the much larger male. A wrinkle of his muzzle and a flash of fangs bade the stranger to keep his distance, though it would likely be clear to the soturi that Szymon was in no shape to make demands. Weariness pulled at his limbs and he swayed on his feet, catching himself before he toppled over completely and forcing his legs to hold steady.