Wheeling Gull Isle And I don't even care about what people say

Tossing waves had thrown a variety of objects up onto the shores. Lucas strode along the Strand, nose lowered as he sifted through piles of still-wet silt in search of anything useful. He knew by now that seaweed could be used for binding limbs and sealing wounds, and there was no shortage of that around, but what he was really looking for was something more edible. Here and there, deep sea fish that normally couldn't be found near the shore were buried in the sand, waiting for a passerby to find them.

He wasn't overly fond of fish himself and would happily pass it up for a juicy rabbit, but Lucas knew it was a taste he was going to have to acquire if he was going to stay here through the winter. Nosing through a promising pile of sand, he encountered a mud-brown flounder, which he unearthed with heavy scoops of his large paws. Hoisting it in his jaws, the Guppy wrinkled his muzzle against the salt taste on his tongue and turned inward, to where the ground was firmer and it could be safely buried for someone else's consumption.