Yellowed eyes stalk the sleeping Cailleach from a rock pool of floating crab shells. Long white hands grasp the slippery leaves the sea choked and spluttered up. Cracked nails pierce an emptied selkie purse. Calloused toes grip at silken stones. He had experience creeping towards limpets to kick and feed on. Every man he knew ate limpets and so did he. Sand flies gather together to form a haunting halo around his scalp. The stench of rotten kelp embalms his chest. His palms form a fist around a jagged rock, the skin his knuckles tightens as he nears her. The quiet pause after the stealthy stalk, before you hurl your rage at a limpet.

kick the limpet kick the limpet kick the limpet kick it kick it.

The rock knocks against rib and bursts open skin. He tears through skin and pulls out three broken ribs. He feeds them one by one to the sea. Mara will hollow them down with the toothy whites of waves, carve out tongue of marrow and cough up onto shores the brittle sceana mara. His searching hands then burrow through the wound, until finally he wrestles out a plump pomegranate. Cracked edges of nails saw through tough red flesh, carelessly cracking open beads of blood.

Bruised pearls scatter, burst and collapse to their death.