After weeks of bed rest and therapy, Lydia could feel her leash loosening. Even though she remained hampered—leaning on a crutch to stay upright—it’d been a while since she felt this free. With father off on a job for the rest of the day, the blonde had been given a few hours in the seaside portion of Slateport. Which, in truth, was her favorite.


It reminded her of home. Lydia could practically feel the worn rail leading up to the family’s lighthouse. Any thought of height or danger vanished as she scaled familiar rocks with the grace and surety of a Skidoo. Her original father’s face usually showed down at her from the top of the stairs like her own beacon. But this beach wasn’t home. The sand was busier and a different shade of brown. Its careful cultivation made it feel less like a sanctuary and more like a deceitful postcard.


As she hobbled down a sand-covered boardwalk to a well-known food stand, the ex-Captain took a moment to look around. At her heel, a Lycanroc followed, her blue eyes sharp as obsidian. A few Wingulls dotted the posts and sand, making Lydia smile at their antics. Standing stiffly, leaning on her crutches, the veteran waited for the family in front of her to finish ordering.


Waiting for them to depart, Lydia strolled up to the counter. She offered a stiff nod to the server. A young boy who seemed to spend more time staring at the beach bunnies than his growing line of patrons. After a moment, the blonde rattled off an order. “I would one crispy fish sandwiches--" The wolf at her side raised a brow, bumping her snout against her companion's leg. "--two crispy fish sandwiches, an order of fries with vinegar, and a cup of water, please.” Another nod followed as she stepped aside.



In moments, she had her lunch in hand. Though, as she struggled to balance it, she realized she’d somehow forgotten the first rule of Teddiursa Scouts. She hadn’t been prepared for four different containers. After a moment, the woman managed to press everything tight against her chest and hobble towards the nearest table.


To say her landing was graceful would be patently false. But, after laying her napkin on her lap and unwrapping her sandwiches, Lydia managed to settle down for a meal. One supplemented by the taste of sea air and the sound of swelling waves. Before doing anything else, she laid one with a napkin beside Minerva. The wolf bowed her head, seemingly in prayer, before moving towards it.


Then a Wingull indeed beside her. A fry was slid towards it. It cawed. “There you are, little friend. Thank you for being so polite.” As she lifted her own sandwich to her mouth, the entire world erupted in a cacophony of feathers and orange beaks.


“!?” The sandwich dropped to the table as the woman began to bat at the flock of Wingull and Pelipper surrounding her.