Wheeling Gull Isle Look monsieur, where all the children play.

Ana, unexpected but accepted ;)

John had innocently approached the young Anathema, looking to share perhaps some knowledge, or just hang out with someone full of young playful energy. But as soon as he stepped behind her, she lunged for his throat, pearly white razors digging into his neck. He tried to hold his composure, hold back a loud, pained yelp, but a smaller yelp slipped “Aah!” He shook his body, trying to remove her from him. Whining followed, and in one last effort, he took his paw to her, pushing her off and onto the sand. 

The adrenaline had worn off, and he noticed the blood dripping from his neck, and onto the pale sand, along with shedded fur, staining it and his fur. “What did you do that for, Ana?” He asked through clenched teeth, attempting to contain any anger and ill feelings. He knew this was a child, but she was old enough to know right from wrong.