Wheeling Gull Isle tilakurak

For @Jasmine or anyone else interested in Sweetharbor!

His recovery wasn't exceptionally fast, but the boy did spring back considerably after a proper sleep, some sun-bathing, and a bite to eat. The bruises he was fortunate to carry (rather than broken bones as one might suspect after being swept out from the mainland) gave rise to the concept of physical limits whereas before, Mojag thought himself superpowered.

He was mindful of how far he ventured. New smells enticed him beyond the green hills, westward, and yet he kept tabs on his progress as if the ocean might swell around him again - overtake the island, swallow him, spit him out somewhere even stranger.

There were flowers here; an entire field of vibrant little growths that looked to be quite delicate. For all he knew, they were weeds. Their bulbs were sweet-smelling purple things, and when he probed them with his nose they felt sharp. Thistles.