Wheeling Gull Isle "one day at a time," is what they tell us

if a proper medic shows up they're welcome to butt rokig outta the way

He usually didn't visit this part of the island. It was well known that Rokig typically stuck to the lagoon unless he was called elsewhere or was making his way to the mainland. But he was pulled here by a force that was gentle and caring. He could not heal but...well, he could try to offer food and a second set of eyes for watching over the body.

It was with a timidness that he settled near the shelter that would hold their resident patient. One who looked different despite his familiarity. All pale and bleached out like a lifeless sand-dollar. Scarred and battered like the oldest Saltwater Sturgeon. Maybe it was for the best the waters had given him up to Undersea.

Awkwardly he laid down with a fish between his front legs. Maybe he could stash it somewhere nearby for when one of the medics came around.