The octopus extended a tentacle up to the turtle, something bright and brassy gleaming against his dull, slimy skin. The turtle moves forward to the outcropping of rock. His head tilts, small eyes working tirelessly to mentally remove the obstacle from the treasure.
The octopus pulls away slightly peering to the cave on the other side of the sound. The turtle follows his gaze and nods imperceptibly.
The turtle turns around and begins to work his way down the rocks to the grass. He picks up a small mirror shard from the ground. He tilts his his head, sunlight blasting from the shard.
A similar blast of light shines on the right side of the cave. Small, dull tentacles are seen coming over the foamy crest of the surf.
The large octopus shoves the sextant on top of the cliff and cruises easily to where the small tentacles had disappeared.
Frantic splashing slightly obscures the 8 arm embrace from the turtle's view. He turns and drags the sextant to his hole, pushing it deep into the recesses until it comes to rest against a small mound of other treasures. He climbs slowly onto an old waterlogged dictionary and closes his eyes, his mouth chewing slowly on page 983 until he hears the frantic squeaking of a rabbits above him.
He pulls himself out of his bed and makes his way up the hole.