Wheeling Gull Isle lana i loko o ke kai sapira,

keeping it vague about who treated his injuries for now but if any caregivers would like a thread to treat his injuries then feel free to tag him.

His wounds were still much too fresh and he was still much too weak to be of much use but this did not mean that the wolfdog took to lazing about, using up resources when Aiolos had been  kind enough to give him refuge in the winter. He limped about the borders at times, leaving his own scent markers amongst those of the sea wolves he was beginning to familiarize himself with -- learning them by their faces even if the mute could not hear their names. The beachcomber was not quite up to the task of hunting just yet but he felt a need to do something with himself, find some way to repay the kindness of Yuelong even if it was only a small token of favor.

Such was how he wound up at the tide pools, the salt stinging at his wounds as he soon found himself drenched with the sea spray up to his chest. At low tide, he ventured out onto the silty sands, apple green gaze flitting over the miniature aquariums brimming with anemones, small fish, eels, even a tiny octopus in one. The shellfish were more abundant though -- mussels and oysters lining the rock walls like living stones amongst the coral. 

Holokai busied himself by gathering what he could -- and what he was sure was edible at least. He began prying the hard, black shells of the crustaceans from their rocky perches, having to yank and tug at them with force occasionally. He intended to save the fish for last, knowing he would become ungainly and awkward with his new injuries as he cornered and dispatched them before fishing them out of the waters -- even if they were confined to the small tide pools.