Wheeling Gull Isle She's spending every weekend at my place

In the aftermath of the storm, the island was left in a mess. Lucas didn't have any particular proclivity for tidying things up—if it was up to him, the island would be left in this state, natural as could be—but the action of the longer standing sea wolves spurred him to help, too. His neck was aching from pulling branches down to the lagoon where they could be floated out to sea. It wasn't just his mind that wasn't made for cleaning; his body was beginning to feel the effects of being overweight.

The one he carried in his mouth now was particularly unruly. It wasn't too large for him to carry, but it was knotted and gnarled in such a way that no matter how he held it, it threatened to slip through his teeth. He had to readjust it several dozen times just carrying it down to Wavewrack Lagoon, and the entire ordeal was a struggle. When finally he got there, he dropped it in the sand with a huff and flopped down beside it, panting lightly.