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

Well, this was a bit of an awkward conversation. Lucas usually never had any issue talking to anyone, but there was something about Moorhen that was just a little... off. She said hello again and he replied with a another, hi, but his tone hesitated a little, as though he felt weird about repeating what had already been said. Luckily, they weren't doomed to just chase each other in circles of awkward greetings until one of them decided to go do something else; Moorhen spoke again in her strange, semi-broken way, and he beamed.

Yes! Everyone's working so hard to clean up the place, I figure I gotta do my part too if I wanna call this place home! Wagging his tail, he cast around for another stick and saw one sticking out of the sand some ten feet away. Leaving the sand-crusted flounder forgotten, he trotted to the stick and hauled it out of the sand. It was a small thing. A perfect throwing stick, he might say.

Still completely oblivious to Moorhen's ire or the fact that she had said it was her wood, Lucas turned back his head and said around the stick, you can make a fun game of it, watch! And in an ill-advised maneuver, he swung his head to the side, then flicked it frontward and released the stick from his jaws, sending it sailing through the air to land in the surf.