Cerulean Cape it's the plastic that lasts

The pale young Captain’s hunt for the missing Ava had led him out of the pack and onto the beach. He feared the thought of straying too far from the crew, knowing that they would fret if he was away for too long. Still, it had been some time since he had seen the aspiring healer; the thought that one had left his crew had left a burning in the pit of his belly. Smokestep lifted his head up and drew in the scents, lingering on the taste of brine and saline that filled his throat. He feared that he was dealing with a deserter, but hunted for her anyway; searching for answers. Pirate code dictated that if they were to ever abandon the life of a pirate, they were to be hunted and killed. He was not one to shun the idea; he did not think kindly of those who stepped out on a life they were intended to dedicate themselves to.
 
Trekking on long pale limbs, Smokestep pulled himself from the waves with a large fish clutched between his jaws. He wasn’t hungry, but looking for an excuse to be so far away from the bay. It was then that he noted an odd and small shape having emerged into the beach. His brows furrowed as he caught sight of her strange coloration and domestic features; the young Captain had never seen such a thing. Moving slowly toward her, trying not to spook the stranger, he noted the bulging of her ribs and the hunger that ate away at her like an illness. Knowing he didn’t need the fish, the pale young corsair tossed it in her direct – it landed roughly five yards from where she was – and he watched her with a wary eye.