Wheeling Gull Isle mouhai

what! this shape was not clam?

ava nearly flung it -- but mama gently guided her hands towards earth, brushing sand from its dark surface to reveal pock-marks millennia old. ava inspected this new surface curiously. she had no inkling of icefloes or the dark waters that housed them. to her, it was just a rock.

could god really speak to her through stones? she turned the thing around, studying it. each faceted edge told a story unknown to her. how had this rock split from its larger form, when, what powers moved it?

she looked to mama wide-eyed, suspended in a quiet disbelief she dare not utter. the rock was placed carefully aside -- she would remember its spot, but for now she wanted to show heda how good a hunter she could be.

ah! she found a spot where the sand was soft and easily pulled back. she dug and dug and dug -- her paws seizing a hard form and pulling it up to the surface.

a clam? she turned it over and nosed it -- rewarded instantly for her curiosity by an acrid beam of water aimed right at her face.