Wheeling Gull Isle its laugh broke into a thousand pieces

The warlock lapped at the rivulets of red that streaked from his muzzle. Crabs hurt, he realized. But they were also tasty, so Ganon supposed he would have to bear such things if he wanted the crustaceans. 

As he walked towards the freshwater pool, he found himself aware of something trailing him. There were a host of things that led him to realize that: being a Melonii meant that he was well versed in the art of stealth and being aware of his surroundings. But more than that, more than any training could give him, he was tense, anxious, on edge. The wraith — that strange creature that was of his blood and not at all — had been a bane on his sense of well-being ever since he stole took what was rightfully his from her and she dared to pursue him. Her ambush with her little demon friend only solidified the fact that she was willing and able to attack in order to retrieve the stone. He was willing to kill her now without the stone impeding his teeth, though he knew he was more of capable of harming her without his main weapons.

He stopped in his place and spoke out to the creature following him. Come out, he snarled. He thought his follower to be the wraith. I don't have the stone on me. And you won't find it.