I identify as a problem

He really needed to get out more. No like, really really. Tate would wander north, trying not to get into too much more trouble. He'd already been scolded for trespassing once, even though it wasn't like he'd caused that much of a problem. That much. Something like that. The boy is a teenager with authority issues, who would have guessed it? Not like anyone could tell him what to do out here. Tate would make his own choices and be his own man. That was the plan, at least.

On strong, albeit clumsy paws he made landfall on one of the larger islands. The day was brilliant and warm, and Tate decided he'd be both of those things too. A gentle breeze ruffled at his coat as he shook it dry, and Tate set his sights-- he was fucking exploring, and it would be an excellent time. Taking in absolutely everything the big island had to offer... where the fuck were those doves? A snack was sounding good right about now, after all. Off he set, in search of a dove for brunch.

"Potato"