Wheeling Gull Isle eeyore's house

The rest of the sticks were okay. That wasn't good enough for him though, and certainly wouldn't work as an additional gift to Moorhen, so soon enough Titmouse was getting distracted by other things assembled along the ledge by the storm's chaos. He shuffled along with his nose inches from the ground, unknowingly leading Moorhen through a thicket of sad looking trees (saplings at one time probably), before he slipped down a steep overhang and found something a little bigger.

As he hoisted this next prize free of the sand, he came up butt-first along a gap in the stony overhang and with some positioning of his hindquarters, managed to pry free a red-cast segment of something like a branch but decidedly unnatural. What he thought was some vivacious chunk of rare special tree was actually a beam of processed wood. Its red glow was a thick layer of paint which was scored and chipped away in places.

The boy huffed and puffed for a few moments and pulled again, pushing with all his might and straining his neck to try and get this thing completely free of the sand below him, but it didn't work and when the tension ceased, he went tumbling. The beam was about ten feet long (with only six or seven feet exposed), another cast-off from another world.