Wheeling Gull Isle malivore

In the morning she wasn't perfect, but she was better. Sleep was always preferable when it was an option rather than a requirement, such as when she had been knocked out on the beach. Nukilik woke up hungry and so she drifted from her resting place, clamoring out of the cave where she had been left to mend and working her way along the incline until the winter sun was beaming down upon her. 

It wasn't much warmer than the shadows she had been hiding in; but it was bright, and she squinted against the light as she observed her surroundings. A field of snow covered what would've been the lavender meadow - and further away she could spy the ocean, dark bands of blue where the tide had pulled away. It would be a few hours before the tide returned, which would give her ample opportunity to scour the beach. So she began to march towards the wet sandy areas, nose dipping to inspect the surface.

There was a hitch to her step. Her sides were still bruised. Breathing was difficult if she strained herself too much, but nothing would keep her down for long - not even something as immense as the sea. Her steps left indentations on the wet sand, peppering the area with her limited trail as she worked her way along.