stupid slippery shimmer

Zephyr's thrashing against the shimmering waters came to a sudden stop as a not-so-distant splash alerted his attention. His head spun, wings extending outward defensively (not like he could just up and fly anyways, as soaking wet as he was) and he beak contorted into a fearful and startled frown. Looking equally as out of place in the water was another, a wolf not unlike his adoptive family, but a stranger to him. Most wolves he'd met so far had been kind to him, but he also hadn't had one come up on him unnoticed before. It made him feel.. hunted, and his plumage fluffed up immediately as he placed a name to the feeling. Turning his head back to survey the barren beach, Zephyr realized there was not even a slope nor large boulder for him to run to, to get speed to take flight.

"Hi." The bird offered with clear reluctance. Eyeing the stranger, he remembered the question that was posed. "Everything's fine... I'm just.. mad at the water." Whether the hesitation to reply was out of discomfort of the sudden strange presence or of the shame of trying to murder the faintly shimmering ocean, Zephyr himself couldn't determine.

The weasel popped up with a fish, and at the comment of dinner Zephyr took a small step backwards through the water, displacing more bio-luminescent glow as he did so. "I'm not a chicken." He clarified boldly, as he liked to with every wolf he met. His underlying tone spoke much more then his words did - and I'm not dinner, okay? Just in case.

"Zephyr"