Mr. Apotienne sat on his favorite pondering rock. He was writing in his reporter's notebook using a non-skipping, non-globbing gel pen with dark blue ink. The Reading Man had not been a reporter, not as a paying job, for some years yet found that particular size and shape of notebook suited him. It was familiar and he was more inclined to jot thoughts in it than some upstart journal, given to him with the best intentions by friends who knew him, but not quite well enough.
A possibility for the treasure aspect came to him at once. He would retrace his steps along the beach road, then return along the high tide line. The number that fixed in his mind was three. He sought three objects which he would know on sight but couldn't guess ahead of time what they might be. No reason for gathering them had yet been revealed. Whether or not the secrets and the treasure (or treasures, should there be more than one quest) had an obvious connection, he didn't know and stretched his neck and shoulders, wanting to keep from making attachments where none should exist. Putting the notebook and pen away, he wondered if the three treasures could be accessed with equipment - his hands - currently available. He wondered if the three items would fit in a pocket. He wondered if one of them might be the home of a small sea creature or if one of them might be rusty and realized he couldn't recall when he'd last had a tetanus shot. He muttered to himself that he had the thought process of a hobbit or higher functioning gerbil.