Wheeling Gull Isle fried chicken

please do not eat this fuzzy pasta noodle

After losing her friend, Ravioli sets out on her own. She has nowhere in particular to go and no friends to turn to. A usual social creature has drifted into a depression of loneliness without a cure. She crosses the paths of a few raccoons but none seem too friendly to open their arms to a stranger and every fox she comes across wants nothing to do with her.
 
Q-Tip certainly was one of a kind.
 
Traveling north brings her to the shore, something she’s never seen before, and as the sand opens up before her. The sea is bigger than she can imagine, reaching all the way left and all the way right and alllllllllll the way out in front of her, never ending.
 
Ravioli sighs, kicking sand beneath her feet. Not even such a wonder can bring her out of the funk as she moves closer to the water, putting her hands in the frothy tide. She does not know the danger the water brings and before she knows it, she’s a little far out and a small wave knocks her down in surprise, followed by another that drags her a few feet back with it. Now wet and disgruntled, she shakes off, standing on all four feet to fling water every which way. Not paying attention causes another wave take crash into her, and another, and then another, and before she knows it, it’s pulled her all the way out where she can’t touch the bottom or catch her breath.
 
The young raccoon flails and panics and inhales more water, pulling beneath the surface only to not come back up.
 

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Later in the afternoon, when high tide draws back into the ocean, the water spits out a limp, water-logged form of a raccoon. Ragged, gurgling breaths are the only signs of life as one wave after the next pushes her just a little further up until it no longer meets her in the sand.