Twenty hours ago. Everything was fine, sensors clear, drive systems running at peak capacity, until the pirates showed up out of nowhere. They didn't stop to ask questions, just started shooting.

Nineteen hours ago. No hope but a Class-R wormhole, listed as too hazardous for commercial and military class commerce due to randomization of the hyperspatial channel. Still, if the ship would at least hold together, winding up anywhere might be better than getting shot to bits.

Sixteen hours ago. It must have been a miracle… Or black magic. Whatever was at work that saved the ship, it seemed to have brought WolfSinger to, wonder of wonder, a system that actually sported a habitable planet. The spacecraft limped slowly in on one out of its three engines, the other two shut down by emergency systems before they could go critical.

Three hours ago. No signs of technological civilization, no responses to radio or subspace broadcasts. Infrared sensors and computer analysis suggested that there WERE people on this world… 'Dana Zainahi IV' if the charts were right about where the wolf wound up. The oddest Van Allen magnetic belts, though. And… Floating islands! Perhaps there would be at least a semblance of an industrial civilization there…

Five minutes ago. Entering the atmosphere, WolfSinger noticed the controls becoming sticky. Erratic. Controls flickering, screen going shot with black. The main engine feathered, losing thrust, then coughed with explosions thundering through the ship's frame…

Now the ship is completely black, with all the aerodynamicity of a shaped brick. The controls are silent, the engines are dead, but the whistling of the air around the ship suggests that there's not much time left before it hits the ground… Or the water. Wherever the misshapen course of the ship is going to take it.

The ship shudders as part of its superstructure breaks away in the intense heat of reentry. No atmospheric shields…

While cursing under his breath, the wolf attempts to switch controls to manual.

WolfSinger pulls back on the yoke to try to bring her in on a lower angle.

Floating balloons of some colorful substance shoot by the canopy as the controls shudder. Ailerons move jerkily.

The ship noses up and bucks like a deer beneath the wolf's feet.

WolfSinger pulls back as hard as he can with both paws. he can just imagine how tight the cables are being pulled right now.

The old fashioned cables whine with rust and metal fatigue… Who knows how long it's been since they've been maintained? For a moment, the ship begins to climb again… Then a cable snaps.

The aileron flips, and the ship begins to spin out of control, nose-diving. The ground abruptly comes into view, a panorama of green and gold and brown and gray that revolves dizzyingly…

WolfSinger mumbles another curse as the stick suddenly snaps back.

Something's wrong. The wolf's fur tingles all over, as if he were passing through a highly charged magnetic field…

WolfSinger knows this is going to be one hell of a ride. He straps himself into the cockpit seat while he still has the chance.

The harness fits snugly over WolfSinger's back and front, securing him into the acceleration chair. It's guaranteed to protect him from a seven-G landing… But with the way the rest of the ship's systems are failing, there's not a lot of hope that will turn out to be true.

The world spirals around WolfSinger's canopy, flat colors shaping into valleys and peaks…

WolfSinger shivers as his fur tingles. No, it can't be… not now!!!

WolfSinger reaches a paw over to a yellow and black stripped panel and pushes it open.

*Click*

Inside is a lever marked "Emergency Chute". he grabs on with both paws and yanks it back as hard as he can.

The ship jerks. More bits fall away. Hope that engine wasn't important anymore… As the reserve chute bites into the air, bolts and nuts slowly spin down in front of the canopy, followed by the massive bulk of the engine, fires burning in its core.

It feels quite suddenly as if fire were running through WolfSinger's body, causing his fur to stand up in all directions. Something's… happening to him.

He's felt this before… all he can do is brace himself for the intense pain he knows is coming. Purple bolts of energy start shooting from his collar to all points of his body.

WolfSinger says, "Damn you, Nathrasha! Damn you to hell!"

The purple energy lashes out, hotter than WolfSinger's ever felt it before, and the world spins into swirls of tan and violet… Then to black.

…

When WolfSinger comes to again, he's confined tightly by the binding straps of his harness, blood seeping through where they cut into the fur. Sunlight pours through where it's not supposed to, a seam of the cabin having given way, and cracks are shot through the 'shatter-proof' plastic of the canopy, making the outside desert just a blur of yellow against pale blue sky.

Abruptly the cabin shifts and shudders, feeling as if it were rocking slowly on the waves. But there's nothing but sand outside…

WolfSinger shakes his head out. He opens his eyes in disbelief, surprised that he survived the landing.

WolfSinger reaches over with his muzzle to undo his harness with his teeth.

The cabin suddenly dips to the side, causing WolfSinger's teeth to grate against the harsh-tasting material. Funny… It never tasted or smelled quite this bad before… Or maybe that's just because of the acrid smell pouring into the cabin.

The buckle seems to be stuck.

WolfSinger starts to chew his way out of the harness, spitting out the pieces in distaste.

Ick. Stretch polystyrene has never been tops on WolfSinger's list of things to chew on, and this isn't going to boost it any, that's for sure. As he worries at the straps that bind his now abruptly morphic body into the couch, however, blood making little streaks against the surface, a trickle of sand begins to wash up the right side of the cabin.

WolfSinger pants harder as he chews away at the harness. He reaches up with a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Wait a minute… *HIS HAND?!?*

The sun blazes through the open seam like a sword of light, hot against WolfSinger's head.

The last strap parts…

WolfSinger raises his new hand in front of him and examines it briefly, flexing it.

WolfSinger says, "No… gotta be hallucinating. Yeah… that must be it. The sun. Either that, or I'm dead… "

The cabin slides another degree to the right, sand washing halfway up to the canopy now. In places where the plastic has been deformed, it magnifies the sand to cause individual rocks and pebbles to leap out…

WolfSinger stands up and stumbles over to the entrance hatch.

WolfSinger thinks it's a dream. he starts laughing to himself.

Jammed.

The automatic mechanism is dead, not even a bit of a glow to the inset panel that should show the outside atmospheric pressure.

WolfSinger starts to turn the manual hatch lock with his "imaginary" hands.

Wonder of wonders… The wheel turns.

He turns the wheel as far as it will go. He then slams up against the door with his shoulder.

Having hands is going to be quite an interesting dream, at the very least. The hatch opens upward onto the blazingly hot roof of the starship, the sun having already done its best to cook WolfSinger inside. All around, desert stretches to the horizon with the occasional stunted and twisted tree shading smaller plants.

Sand creeps slowly up the side of the crashed starship. Two engines lie not very far away, blue flames leaping from their exposed innards.

WolfSinger blinks, and studies his surroundings briefly before climbing out.

WolfSinger jumps off the ship and lands on both feet unsteadily.

WolfSinger giggles to himself. "Hey! look at me! I'm a two-foot!"

And lands up to his knees… The sand is soft and compresses easily, like snow or mud. That must be why the ship's sinking.

The wing tilts up a little, now at waist level, and WolfSinger cannot feel any solid ground beneath his feet.

WolfSinger tries to walk on all fours to the closest tree patch.

Sploosh! Sand starts getting into WolfSinger's nose, forcing him to sneeze. The heavy sand mats his coat and begins to drag him down…

WolfSinger yips! Quicksand?

The ship begins to sink with a will, a nasty 'splursh' sound catching WolfSinger's ears as the sand rushes into the inside.

WolfSinger quickly looks around for something floating that he can grab on to.

The debris from the ship's crash has been scattered far and wide… Wait! The emergency parachute! Its silken folds spread out over vast expanse of the quicksand, and if WolfSinger can just manage to struggle across the quicksand there before he sinks utterly nose beneath the sand…

WolfSinger grabs on for dear life, whimpering quite loudly. He tries to pull himself up.

The fabric begins to sink beneath the wolf… But once enough of him is distributed over its surface, as he clambers to the center, it's as if he is resting on an emergency life raft, the shallow surface concave. The ship continues to sink… And with it, the cords that lead to the rescue parachute.

WolfSinger starts to head for the far side of the chute. No time to cut all the cords.

Edge of the chute. Just far enough that WolfSinger's weight won't push the rim under the level of the sand. Grains of sand crunch beneath his feet.

Solid ground under there? Hmmm… He checks by pressing on the ground with his hand.

It squishes.

WolfSinger decides to take the chance, and slowly steps out.

The sand is harder packed, but not by much… Already WolfSinger's feet are buried to the ankles.

WolfSinger quickly heads for the harder ground! Can't sit on the chute for the rest of the dream. He wishes he'd wake up soon, though.

This way, it feels harder… Ack! A sudden softness catches WolfSinger, sinking him to the knees and forcing a scrambling the other way. The sun blazes down mercilessly. No food. No water. If there were any emergency rations, they're on the ship which is well on its way deep under the sand.

WolfSinger panting heavily, he shakes some of the sand out of his fur, and slowly heads on all fours to a nearby group of trees to find some shade.

It's little shade, but better than nothing, as the tree's scraggly limbs and needly vegetation help to diffuse the sun. A sudden chill breeze sighs over the vast inland sea of sand.

WolfSinger sits down for a moment. He sits down cross-legged like he's seem many of his two-foot friends do.

As the wolf watches, the ship sinks slowly, with not even the chute left behind on the surface of the quicksand sea to show where it had been. The sun drops slowly toward the horizon… And then when the sky is red, shadows appear silhouetted against its bloody glare. People? They are walking across the sand, some beasts apparent among their numbers.

Blood frosts against WolfSinger's arms and legs, where the straps cut into them and where they have dried with sand crusting them; the winds grow colder.

WolfSinger blinkblinks, looking out at the people.

he lets out with a loud howl, hoping they'll hear him. "AAAAAAARRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

The people freeze… Then answering howls ring from the caravan far away, some cut off in mid-aroo.

WolfSinger's ears twitch. Wolves? Walking? Yep… gotta be a dream.

A group of twelve of the caravan begin running across the sands toward WolfSinger, their gait oddly flat-footed. The reason why becomes evident as they approach, showing the snowshoe-like footgear they wear to allow them to walk on the quicksand. They resemble ferretoids with spindly limbs and blackened marks around their eyes.

They are tightly bundled against the cold and carry spears and crossbows. Some bark out orders in an unintelligible language to WolfSinger.

Others of the ferretoids carry nets and clubs. They approach with grim purpose in their eyes.

WolfSinger weakly stands up. He wuffs a greeting to them.

WolfSinger sees the nets, and starts to back away.

The ferretoids glance back to each other. One nods. The ferretoids with nets begin to close in, surrounding WolfSinger, while the others move out on their sandshoes to force the wolf back.

WolfSinger starts to growl at his would-be captors.

From far away comes the sound of loud whining as some of the slaves – for such the other wolves must be – struggle against their binds. Then more yelps of pain.

WolfSinger bears his teeth, looking for a way to escape.

The ferretoids move within twelve feet. One picks up his net, feet spread wide to distribute his weight, getting ready to cast… There are four Kavis with nets forming a square around him, and eight more with spears and crossbows moving behind him to make sure that if he runs, it will be toward the caravan.

WolfSinger starts to run straight for one of the Kavis with a net, changing directions at the last moment to go around him.

The Kavi casts his net panickedly, a little too high and giving him an opportunity to duck… Now. Some crossbows sing and bolts hiss by the wolf as he races away… And toward the other slavers?

They ARE wolves! Wolves in shackles! The others howl and yelp to WolfSinger, as if calling for help.

WolfSinger runs in a zig-zag pattern towards one of the slavers and slams into him to try to knock him down.

The Kavis begin to chase WolfSinger toward the caravan, and they're a little faster because they have snowshoes. A net flies out toward him, half-catching a shoulder, as Kavi slavers shout and snarl.

The slaver closest to WolfSinger, that he bumped into, falls against the sands with a sound of snapping wood. He yelps and struggles to recover his footing.

WolfSinger tries to run as best as he can to get from under the net. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The net shrugs off. The other wolves are howling to WolfSinger, motioning for him to… Come over there? More crossbow bolts sing around the wolf, one lodging in his left shoulder and raising a fiery welt of pain.

WolfSinger yelps! as the bolt buries itself into his shoulder. He heads for the other wolves.

WolfSinger calls out to the other wolves in Lupine. "can you understand me?"

The other wolves are shackled at the wrists and their feet are locked into step by long and hard wooden rods, but they nevertheless seem excited as the alien wolf heads their way with fierce and angry Kavis behind him. Spears stab into the sand and one bites into a wolf's thigh, causing him to stumble and nearly topple his entire column. They howl and yip back, their words distorted by thousands of years… But the feeling comes through: give them a chance. help them, somehow, get them free of the chains or get the slavers in reach.

WolfSinger favoring his injured shoulder, he looks for a way to undo the chains.

It looks as if each shackle has a large lock, with a keyhole perhaps an inch across; the rods are likewise locked. There are four guards surrounding the twenty or so wolves who are locked in ten to a row, and key-rings swing at two of their belts. The wolves strain against their restraints…

And behind WolfSinger, the Kavis are closing in, with a club swishing behind his back and clipping against his tailtip. Ouch!

WolfSinger slips through between the prisoners, and tries to head for one of the guards with keys.

The baying of the wolves becomes thunderous as WolfSinger tries to scramble between them! The other Kavis become more cautious, yelling orders in that same strange language, crossbows leveled – they must be ordering the slaves to stand to or be slain.

WolfSinger lunges at the guard, anger in his eyes, and teeth bared. He tries to go for the neck.

The Kavis with clubs march in, beginning to assault the slaves, trying to pummel them into submission. Thuds and yelps of pain sound from behind WolfSinger, and the other Kavis are circling around to get to him. The Kavi that he was approaching draws a dagger made of some off-white shiny substance, much like plastic or some sea shell…

The ferretoid retaliates, going down beneath the angry wolf, and an ice-cold tooth of pain bites between his ribs… But wolf fangs and muscles tell against the guard, who cries out as WolfSinger's teeth sink in. Good. One less slaver.

Four of the wolf slaves have gone down, and more are snarling and whining as the Kavis viciously assault them… And there are eight more coming for WolfSinger, getting ready to attack him with nets before he can use the hard-won keys.

The sudden pain in his chest makes him loose all self control. Animal instincts kick in. He lunges at the closest Kavi with all his might.

Howls of distress sound behind WolfSinger as the slaves realize that he's leaving them in their shackles… One lunges for the fallen guard to try and grab his keys, causing the entire line of slaves to topple over like so many dominos.

The nearest Kavi shrieks at the sudden lupine fury, trying to fend him off with his spear…

WolfSinger goes for the neck again.

Blows land against WolfSinger's shoulders and back as other Kavis try to beat him off with their clubs. The spear goes wide, and another Kavi slaver rattles with a death-cry…

Behind WolfSinger, the continuous howl of the wolves sounds like a death dirge for their fallen comrades.

WolfSinger spins around, and locks eyes with his next target.

This Kavi, raccoon-marked with black around his eyes, freezes with his bolt locked in his crossbow… Then raises it swiftly and squeezes it. The bolt sinks into WolfSinger's thigh, raising yet more pain. The world seems to go red…

Moments of pain and fury: slashes all over, attacking one Kavi after another, despite a continuous rain of blow. Fallen bodies, both ferretoids and wolves. … Another wolf fighting alongside?

As night falls across the Himaat desert, WolfSinger comes face to face with another wolf, her claws bloodied and dripping, her muzzle wet and blackened in the twilight. She yelps at him, " – Stop! – " in that strange derivative of the Lupine language.

WolfSinger locks eyes with her, panting heavily.

He slowly starts to calm down. As his senses come back to him he looks a bit confused.

She too pants heavily. Others of the surviving wolves – perhaps eight or so – glance around each other and snarl to each other. Too many of their numbers have died for them to feel a true triumph, but their words suggest that at least, they died free.

WolfSinger collapses to the ground, exhausted.

At that moment, the female wolf, her fur black as pitch midnight, springs for WolfSinger!

WolfSinger yelps in pain as she lands on him.

WolfSinger tries to push her away.

She bares her fangs, gleaming in the reflected ringlight – the ring of this world appears to be two broad and bright daggers stabbing up against either horizon – and lunges for WolfSinger's… mouth. *SMYOOCH*

The other wolves begin howling jubilantly, raising their voices to the sky.

WolfSinger's ears flush red!

WolfSinger looks up at her confused.

WolfSinger says, "Wha… what happened?"

The black wolf grins fangily to WolfSinger, grabbing him in a fierce hug, her body unclothed save for a tattered cloth that wraps over one shoulder and hangs down past her thighs. " – Sing! We are free! – " she barks in that strangely different dialect again, and then lifts her voice to join her companions. " – Sing! – "

WolfSinger stands and howls jubilantly with his new found friends.