It was evident that she had been tirelessly working for some time; not only by the size of her pile, but also by the fact that waves now lazily (haphazardly) lapped along the edges of the bottom-most bones. However, the seahorse’s mind was too distracted to notice as she breached the breakers once again, a large, sharply-toothed skull grasped in her own, sharp teeth.
Her gills popped as the gaped, sucking for water just as her ridged nostrils flared, seeking air. She had overexerted herself, that much was apparent—both by the work she had done and her exhausted body that she drug through the crashing surf. A storm threatened off shore, muting the beach to grey and sending lightning prods dancing across the horizon. But she paid it no mind.
Instead, she dropped the skull amid the various vertebrae, jaws, pelvises, and other bones, plated sides heaving and head nearly flush with the sand. “Enough?” her question, uttered almost nonsensically in her nearly delirious state, came quietly on her guttural voice.
fierce, wild, and free
This is the skull she just brought up!