Sea Lion Shores cake by the ocean

Smokestep listened to the story unravel by the stranger. He would – of course – respond with the appropriately timed 'aye,' and 'ye don't say,' as the conversation called for it, but otherwise remained perfectly silent until the one-eyed boy had concluded his massive tale. Once it had been concluded, the corsair looked to the ground as if he were composing himself after a wild undertaking. The pale brute was well versed in the art of what seagulls could take. He'd lost more than a good meal to them, even on good days. Still, he had never heard such a thing as the birds taking someone's eye. It took a great deal of force to remove the optic; he knew.

“Yer tellin' me, that a bunch o' gulls rioted against ye an' scooped out yer eye?” Smokestep asked the boy again with an incredulous look on his face. “Ye don't want to pick another beast?” he prompted, trying to give the lad a way out of the mountainous fib. Still, the seafarer looked as though he was completely baffled that anyone would conjure such a peculiar tale of fabrication and imagination. Either that, or the real story was far too awful for the young wolf to share. That was something that piqued his interest.

“Not even a bunch o' gulls... three? Only three, lad?”

The pirate had probably met squirrels who could accomplish more than the annoying flapping birds. They were good at getting grub, but they would also eat damn near anything, so he wasn't keen on believing that Screech had lost his eye to a trio of seagulls. Even if they had been starving to death.