From the lower deck, cheetahs still climb out, only to realize that their apparent fate has just taken a turn for the worst … just when there seemed to be a glimmer of hope.

Some of the cheetahs who don't fully realize what is going on lean against the outer railing, pointing in awe at the vast sky island, enshrouded in mists, which looms far ahead.

A battered old cheetah limps to the railing beside H'rral, looking up, then back at the jaguar. Ferryman signs, "We fought well. We have escaped a fate worse than death."

"Thank you, Speaker," the cheetah signs.

H'rral pushes himself off the railing with a cry of anger. He turns to Ferryman and signs, 'Find whatever rope you can. Make everyone tie themselves down.'

Ferryman pauses a moment, but then nods. He sets about, directing the stronger and more able-bodied ones to aid him.

Nearby, a cheetah wheeze-laughs to himself. He has in his hand a gold coin, taken from one of his former captors. Such wealth in his hand … so late in his life. He covers his face.

H'rral looks around and runs to the nearest riggings. For a moment, as he looks up at the ropes, he thinks of the irony of this situation, but pushes that thought away. He grabs ahold of his anger with the same determination that he takes ahold of the rigging, and starts to pull himself up to the air sac.

The jaguar makes good time up the rigging, coming up closer to the underside of the vast gas bag that dwarfs the undercarriage which it supports.

H'rral scrambles along the rigging until he comes to the ropes that hold the airbag in place. He closes his eyes for a moment, then starts to pull himself along the rope, working his way around the girth of the bag as quickly as he is able.

The blazing sun breaks over the horizon, setting the sky on fire, silhouetting the cheetahs toward the front of the ship. Far more begin to crowd toward the back, wrapping limbs into the rope riggings, helping each other tie fast for some hope of avoiding being flung free during the inevitable crash.

The bag ripples and waves under the jaguar, as he begins to reach the topside … sinking into the taut, gas-filled fabric. He can now see the great gash torn by the Vartan, torn shreds dancing in the blast of the escaping gases. … and so many smaller holes scattered about.

The gash must be almost six feet long, and slowly tearing itself further open.

H'rral swallows down his stomach, and tries to work his way across the top of the bag to the gash, hoping that the escaping air will still have enough pressure to support him near the opening.

The sky continues to grow lighter … and the ground closer. Trees and bushes can be distinguished below now.

The floating island is far, far above now, looking so much smaller than the vast mountain it appeared as earlier.

Other airships can be seen floating about, high above, bright colors shining in the morning sunlight as they make their way to or from the floating sky island.

The jaguar sinks deeply into the bag as he climbs on top. It becomes a struggle to do much of anything other than flounder about!

H'rral continues to struggle toward the opening, digging his claws into the airbag to pull himself closer.

*RIIIP!*

*FOOOOSH! FOOOOSH!*

H'rral blinks! in surprise and tries to hold the new tear closed, "NO!"

Suddenly, the jaguar is jerked violently forward, and the whole world tosses and rolls around him! The sounds of cracking timbers and rushing air assault him all at once … until he hits something very hard. And something hits him.

All is black.

Until it gives way to pain. Lots of it. Everywhere.

It's still black. The jaguar can see nothing, and something heavy is pressing down on him. The air is scarce … he can hardly breathe.

H'rral hisses through his teeth as the pain assaults him.

As the shock of the pain subsides just enough to be able to tell more about from whence it comes, the jaguar can piece together that he must be pinned down by a broken timber, as well as several folds of the fabric comprising the gas bag.

There are no sounds beyond the immediate, for a long time. No more hissing, no more rushing of air, no screams, no breaking wood. … and then shouts in some strange tongue that sound much like those slavers the jaguar fought so hard against.

H'rral tries to control his rapid breathing. With a strength born of fear and anger and desperation, he shoves at the timber.

Straining at every muscle, the jaguar heaves and pushes … and manages to lift the timber just enough to roll it downward, just barely missing his own feet as it comes crashing back down again.

More shouts, closer this time. He can hear the sounds of footsteps scuffling over the fabric, which must be spread over a wide area.

H'rral coughs as some of the weight is lifted from his chest. Then he silences himself with a little groan of effort. He will not be taken again…

A heavy boot steps on the fabric above H'rral's gut.

H'rral looses his air in a whoosh of pain and starts to claw at the boot through the fabric. "Get AWAY!"

There is a cry of alarm, and the boot abruptly pushes away, followed by the sound of someone falling hard. "OOF!" Other footsteps close in, with more shouts exchanged.

With a ripping and tearing, the fabric begins to cut free, letting in bright sunlight … the sun is high in the sky … until it is blocked by the silhouette of someone who leans down over H'rral, then turns to shout at the others.

H'rral pushes upward with his arms and tries to roll forward, and away from the shadowy shape!

Pain shoots through H'rral's midsection. Something must be, if not broken, in severe need of healing.

More tearing, as more of the fabric is ripped free, unentangling the jaguar. A couple of wolves rush up, bearing a stretcher between them.

H'rral falls back with a sharp cry and clutches at his stomach.

The two wolves set the stretcher beside the jaguar, and then move over to slide him onto it. Another wolf tries to intervene, barking something in protest, but they continue with their work.

H'rral rolls to his side and grabs the edge of the stretcher, a look of determination clear in his eyes.

The stretcher lifts up, bearing the jaguar on a bumpy ride, down over a pile of wreckage of the craft. There are several bodies visible … some golden-furred and spotted … some not.

H'rral cries out and rolls off the stretcher. He stands up, with great difficulty, and stumbles over to the nearest golden-furred body.

The wolves shout something, and drop the stretcher, rushing over. The body is of a female, tangles of dark brown head-mane matted with blood. Her eyes stare open and lifelessly at the sky.

H'rral falls down to his knees and stares at the female for a second, then looks around at the other bodies nearby, a dazed expression on his face.

The broken bodies are all in a jumble, many partially buried in wood. There is the cheetah who was 'laughing' earlier, that shiny gold coin peeking out of the grip of his hand. There is some other cheetah, face down … it could be anyone. And a child. Nearby lies the broken body of the bat who had been crushed against the barrels during the fight.

The wolves try to pull the jaguar away from the scene and back to the stretcher.

H'rral clenches his fists against the tide of emotion. At first, he struggles against the wolves… but only for a moment. He slumps between them, a limp body… almost as lifeless as the bodies around.

The wolves bear the jaguar on the stretcher again, this time setting him down in another "canoe", one sitting down in it at his feet, and another at the head. The one at the head rests a hand on H'rral's shoulder, saying something to him that, of course, means nothing, as the "canoe" begins to rise toward yet another airship.

The smaller craft stops, and is brought aside. The jaguar is carried on board, past several other rushing bodies, a couple carrying stretchers as well. He is laid down on the deck, while a raccoon in white robes kneels down next to him, examining his wounds, and applying salves and bandages.

There is a slight jolt, and the airship begins to rise again … bearing toward that vast floating island that the slave craft fell short of.

H'rral lays still throughout the proceedings, his only signs of life being his reactions to whatever probes the raccoon must perform.

The raccoon at last pats the jaguar, saying something unintelligible but perhaps meant to be reassuring. Then he leaves.

H'rral shakes his head slowly, hearing the words as if from a great distance.

All is quiet, for the most part, around the jaguar, for most of the ride. But then shouting voices come closer. A black wolf stands near, pointing at the jaguar, barking something to a pepper-grey wolf beside him. The voices grow more distant again, as the footsteps lead away.

Then, there is another jolt. The crew scrambles about on deck, and some of the stretchers are lifted and borne away. The jaguar's is the last.

H'rral stirs and looks around as he is carried off.

The jaguar is no longer on the ship. He is now in the back of some sort of cart being led along, with wolves visible running along the sides.

The cart halts. Wolves climb in, and the stretcher is hauled out again, with the jaguar on it. The conveyance is a bumpy one. A black wolf alongside pokes at H'rral, and barks something at him.

H'rral looks from left to right with a distant air. It seems as if this must be happening to another, and he is only watching from nearby.

The stretcher comes to a halt. There are many voices engaged in some sort of argument. H'rral is pointed at many times, if he is alert enough to tell. Several more heated words are exchanged, and at last the stretcher moves on again … into a darker area. Into some sort of building.

H'rral lets his head fall back to the stretcher and watches the ceiling roll by passively.

The next thing that the jaguar consciously realizes is laying in a bed, with a sheet thrown over him. He has many bandages on him, and he can smell some strange, unidentifiable scent.

The bed is moving. And then it stops. Once more, H'rral is lifted up, moved to one side, then set down again. He's being put into some sort of chair … and before he realizes it, he is bound in restraints … very sturdy restraints, quite unlike those bonds he so easily snapped.

H'rral looks around this room. Again, he has the feeling of being only an observer… a detached entity.

As the wolves back away, H'rral can see that he is in a dimly lit chamber, the lights of which flicker in and out irregularly, supplemented by candles perched on various surfaces and hangers. A cheetah stands before H'rral, dressed in white linens, her dark brown tresses tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. She regards the jaguar silently with green eyes.

H'rral fixes his gaze on the cheetah, watching her hands.

The hands are clasped together. There are no signs to be seen. A voice calls out a command, from beyond the range of vision the neck-restraint will allow the jaguar. The cheetah moves forward, and reaches for something behind H'rral. Something is placed over his head, obscuring his sight, bringing darkness again.

H'rral freezes, then starts to struggle against the restraints wildly!

There is a loud crackle, and the jaguar's body shakes violently, not of its own accord … and then the restraints, the room, the helmet all melt away.

The jaguar is standing on a vast, dark expanse. Points of light dance around like scurrying mice.

Indeed, as some come closer … that's precisely what they look like! Little glowing white mice, darting about.

H'rral screams out something and starts to attack everything in sight!

As the first mouse gets within H'rral's clutch … he feels a tingling sensation as it just disappears … into him! He can hear whispers, ecohes in the distance … jumbles of nonsense … but somehow they begin to make more sense. Somehow.

In his fury, the other mice he managed to catch do the same…

H'rral ignores this. He feels nothing of the restraints, but he knows he has been bound. This drives him to a frenzy of action and attack!

The image shatters and splits away, the dim light of the office – and the solid presence of the restraints – returning once more.

Just as the images fade, the jaguar can hear an echo … 'subject evidences abnormal levels of aggression, recommend increase of theta waves… '

H'rral lets his head fall back to the chair and struggles again against the restraints.

"Do not waste your strength," a voice urges, in a tongue the jaguar can comprehend … though it is not his own.

"Calm down," the voice continues, "and you will be let go soon enough. Tell me your name."

H'rral stops struggling and turns his gaze to the cheetah.

The cheetah watches the jaguar, then nods her head in the direction of the one who is addressing him. She evidently is not the source of the voice.

The cheetah signs something to the person H'rral cannot see. "I am not sure."

H'rral sorts through the words in his mind, confused at this sudden understanding. "Let me go."

A red-and-black robed figure strides around, now entering the jaguar's field of vision. "Not just yet. I must be certain that you will not go into a fighting frenzy once you are released. You are, after all, possessed of formidable strength."

"Now then," the dark-faced creature continues, "tell me your name."

H'rral doesn't even look at the newcomer. "Give me reason to be calm, and I will be calm. You will forgive me if I seem reluctant to remain bound."

"You were found on a crashed slave ship," the unicorn states, beginning to pace a half-circle around the chair. "It would seem that your captors mistook you for a Savanite. It would also seem that your captors met a rather violent fate, as did many of their prisoners. The majority, however, apparently fled by the time the investigating patrol vessel arrived."

The cheetah signs to H'rral, "Can you understand me?"

H'rral tugs at the braces despite his attempt to remain calm. "Then perhaps you will understand why I want to be released!"

H'rral doesn't respond to the cheetah.

"That I understand," the unicorn says, "does not mean that I trust you. Now then, I have some questions to ask you. The sooner they are answered to my satisfaction, the sooner you will be free to move about. Or, that is, as free as the priests will allow you to be until you have completely healed."

H'rral lets his head fall back to the chair and closes his eyes. His breathing seems a bit shallow.

The jaguar is left in silence for a long moment, with only the sound of the hooves of the pacing unicorn clicking against the floor, back and forth.

"Do not expect any undue mercy from me on account of your condition. You have been given enough time to recuperate so that you may answer my questions. Do not disappoint me," the unicorn says. "Your name. Tell me your name."

H'rral clenches his fists and tries to control his breathing, but otherwise does not answer.

A thick leather gauntlet punches into H'rral's chest, right in the spot where it hurts the most.

"Answer my question," the unicorn growls.

H'rral snaps his eyes open and screams. A moment later he falls back to the chair limply.

"Sedate him," the unicorn commands. "Take him back to the infirmary, and see that he is kept under surveillance … and restraint."

With that, the jaguar feels a sharp pain in his arm, and darkness grasps him, refusing to let go.

H'rral doesn't fight the darkness. He welcomes it as an escape.

When the real world returns, it is with far less throbbing, far less pain, except for the ache of muscles that haven't been allowed to move within the restaints that hold the jaguar to his bed in the infirmary.

H'rral groans softly and tries to move reach his head. When he discovers he is still secured to a table, he closes his eyes again, wishing for a moment that the darkness would return.

A raccoon standing nearby leans over. "Aha. Awake again are you? Well now, can we trust you enough to get some food in you the old-fashioned way?"

H'rral says, without opening his eyes, "Not unless you let me go to feed myself." The effort that he is expending to remain calm is visible.

The raccoon adjusts his spectacles, tilts his head and hmms. "Perhaps we can work out a compromise. I'd say that for this particular exercise, you just need your head, your neck, and your arms. Don't try anything funny, though, or you won't get much beyond that for very long.

H'rral swallows, then nods. He forces his arms and hands to relax and lies still.

The raccoon leaves, and after a bit returns. Some acolytes unstrap some of H'rral's restraints so that he has limited upper-body motion so he can reach the tray that is set over the bed. It has some mushy food which might be applesauce, some water, and some toasted bread. It's not exactly a feast.

H'rral lays still for several seconds after the restraints are loosened. Finally he reaches for the food with the deliberate air of something being savored.

The raccoon and acolytes leave H'rral for the most part alone, though they are still not far away while tending to other patients.

A cheetah walks into the infirmary. A pair of deep green eyes turn in H'rral's direction. The Savanite approaches the jaguar.

H'rral takes no actions that could be threatening. He simply eats, slowly, taking in the first semi-solid food he has had in days.

The cheetah stands at the foot of the jaguar's bed, waiting for him to finish his modest meal.

H'rral finishes off the last bite of his meal and looks up.

The cheetah signs to H'rral, "There is someone who would like to see you. Can you receive a visitor?"

H'rral looks at the cheetah with what he hopes is a blank expression.

The cheetah frowns at H'rral, then turns and walks back out of the infirmary, leaving him more or less alone once more.

H'rral leans back to the bed and closes his eyes.

An acolyte comes by and removes the tray. The restraints are not put back on the jaguar.

The jaguar is allowed to just lay there for a very long time. Being in the infirmary is not a terribly exciting experience.

H'rral passes some time by trying to remember the faces of the cheetahs on board the slaver ship, but that does little besides make him aware of his position. After some time, he tries to sit up.

As the jaguar sits up, he sees the cheetah again, having returned … and giving no idea as to how long she as been standing there.

H'rral blinks several times in surprise. He crosses his wrists over his legs and says, "Hello."

A cheetah cub padpads up beside the green-eyed woman, and peers over the foot of the bed at the jaguar. He is wearing some plain brown robes with sleeves that are a few sizes too large.

H'rral looks at the cub and chuckles in spite himself.

The cub signs, "Speaker! You live!" He beams happily.

H'rral smiles a little and nods. "I guess I do."

Azhtar looks from the cub to the jaguar. She signs, "If you insist upon playing secret about knowing signs, I have no reason to tell {seeker?} {unknown}, for he has no reason to ask me. But I have heard your story, incomplete as it is. I felt you needed to see that it had not ended perhaps as you supposed."

The cheetah drops her hands to her sides, watching.

H'rral looks at his feet again, then up at the female cheetah. "Tell him whatever you wish, but tell him I will answer no question while I am bound."

"So proud," the cheetah signs. "But it will do you no good. Why must you be so stubborn? Answer the questions, and be on with your life."

H'rral looks down at the cub, "Because I was bound one time too many. I will not answer any questions that come at the point of a knife. The answers to them will not be worth the effort that he would have to expend to get them."

The cub looks confused at the whole exchange. He signs to the adult cheetah, "He speaks in tongue of Sky Gods, but will not answer. His hands are not bound."

Azhtar signs to the cub, "He is destined to be a free man in the realm of the 'Sky Gods' – not like us. He is proud, and will not answer. Come. Let us leave him. You have seen he is alive. That is enough."

With that, the two cheetahs leave, the cub a bit reluctantly, glancing back at the jaguar repeatedly on the way to the exit.

H'rral lays back on the bed and mutters, '… not like us?'