You’re lying on a shingle beach- the smooth pebbles cold against your bare skin as you watch the rolling dark clouds that make up the morning’s overcast sky. The chilly winds and dark skies promising rain make for a dreary day- the kind that was just as beautiful in its own right as a warm, sunny afternoon.

You’d left your pelt safely near by- behind you and close enough to grab at the first sign of danger- though it’s not likely you’d find any out here. Nothing larger than crabs roamed these beaches, and the weather combined with the remote and secluded conditions of the shore- far from the nearest town and bordered by tall, jagged cliffs that gave way from the grassy plains to a steep droop to the shore below- made it unlikely you’d encounter any humans.

It was peaceful: the crying of the gulls, lapping of the waves, and howling of the wind. It all lulled you into a deep state of calm.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to leave your valuables lying around?” A deep, dead pan British accented voice says from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.

You whip your head around, your eyes widening as you find a tall, hulking man holding your pelt- staring you down with cold blue eyes and an unreadable expression.