An explosion of light and sound, surrounding all, smothering, pulling, then breaking apart, beyond infinity, everything that is and was, and the nothing that surrounds and was before and after it filling every part of his being, his mind, shattering into infinite fragments. His only sensation, as everything that is and was surrounds him is Wyn, close as he holds her tight, not letting her go. The light and sound impossibly grow more powerful, threatening his very sanity, on the edge of crushing his sense of self, absorbing him into the Nothing all around him… He suddenly finds that he no longer has anything to hold onto Wyn with, and no longer knows if he's alone. Deep in his mind, all that is left is a scream, a will to exist, and to pull her with him if he can. "NOOOO!!!"… And then… silence, and darkness.

Voices seem to boom through the air, though there is none. Eyes seem to look through Zephyr, though none are to be seen. Endless falling, falling into a vast well of stars where the walls are made up of galaxies and the very bottom…

The falling not-quite-Zephyr plunges through a giant eye-sigil made of novas. Reality reassembles itself and with a sudden blazing flash…

A red fox plummets from the air into a drift of harsh glassy sand, sending waves of coppery grist flying. A necklace flops around his collar, his clothes suddenly hot in the arrid climate. Above, a white sun with the faintest tinge of yellow rakes its light through the thin clouds and the sparkles of a ring, arching overhead.

The wasteland runs from here in all directions, though there's reflection down the gentle indented slope of the sand that might… might be water burning hotly with reflected sunlight.

Sand crawls down the back of Zephyr's shirt… And a few small insects, from the feel of the scuttling.

The fox slowly… opens his eyes, then tries to rise, falling down again, and scuffling out of his too-warm silken garb, scratching at his fur in a panic. "Bugs!" He scuffles them out of his fur, then… reality finally begins to dawn on him… "Wyn?" He looks around…

There's no one else around for miles.

A little creepy-crawly thousand-legged millipede – not bigger than an eyelash if that – scuttles out of Zephyr's shirt and back into the sand.

Zephyr's ears flatten as he shouts louder. "Wyn? WYN?! No… " He slowly sinks to his knees, ears and tail drooped, eyes closed. "No… "

The wind whips the sound of Wyn's name out and away, echoing over and over.

Zephyr stays kneeling where he is for a long, long time, muzzle pointed down, eyes closed tightly. "No… Why? NO!!!!" He stands, screaming out her name again, as if she might hear him. "WYN!!!" Exhausted… he drops to his knees again… defeated. o O {I will find you… wherever you are… }

Zephyr closes his eyes tighter. o O {If you're still alive… }

Sand rustles around Zephyr's knees, crunching a little. It's hard, unforgiving stuff that would probably scratch ordinary glass into blurred opaqueness in just a few minutes of a high wind.

A sudden silence falls over the area, a silence cold and complete… like death.

Zephyr doesn't even feel the hard sand beneath himself. He's… lost something of himself, has been tossed elsewhere alone one too many times, now, and… he's lost Wyn. Just as he realized what he felt for her… he's lost her. He does not move, does not look around, just… stays where he is, eyes closed tightly.

The wind has died away completely, leaving the sun to glare down on Zephyr like an unforgiving god.

Zephyr stays yet still, not noticing the hot sun making his black ears uncomfortably warm, the hard sand… nothing… as he realizes that Wyn, if she's alive… could be anywhere. He lost her in Nothing, and he might as well try to find a single grain of salt thrown into the ocean… and if he can't find her… that there is… no point anymore.

Zephyr's nose grows dry in the hot sun, his unconcious panting becoming more labored as he overheats… but still does not move…

The wind stirs again, as if calling Wyn's name. "Wyyyyn… Wyn… Wy wy wyy wyyynnn… " Or is it some tribal chant coming from far away?

"Zeeee… ZeeEEee-hyrrrrr… Hrrr… " Another call. To foxish ears baked in the sun, perhaps it might sound like his name is being called by a familiar voice. Or perhaps it's just the wind playing tricks.

Zephyr's ears perk slowly, his eyes half-opening… not quite focused. "Wyn?"

"Wyyyy… n… Zeee… hyrr… " A sound that Zephyr can't quite triangulate.

Zephyr starts to stand, his ears swiveling, trying to find the sound as a desparate smile spreads across his muzzle. "Wyn? Is that you? Where are you?" He tries to stand, but in heat exhaustion, only succeeds in stumbling, falling down hard and trying to pick himself back up.

Water glints, far down the swell of the desert, and there seem to be plants nearby judging by the clustering of dark-colored things around its edge. "Zephyr – hyr – hyr," the slight breeze says sibilantly.

Could it be an oasis?

In the near distance, something moves across the land, the sound of feet moving through the desert. Is is large or small? It's difficult to tell.

Zephyr half-stands, stumbling again, his hindpaws scuffing up a gritty spray of sand. "Wyn?" Somehow, he manages to move weakly in the direction of the oasis, not noticing he's left his clothes behind, his fur and nose dry from the heat, tounge dry as he keeps panting between shouts…

Zephyr remembers something, weakly grasping at his necklace as he stumbles towards the oasis. "Wyn… I'm coming… ", he pants…

Small somethings scatter out of the way of Zephyr, going this way and that.

The shapes resolve themselves into – people! Long-muzzled, short-eared, with tails that wishful thinking fills out into wolf brushes. A small group of tents, ramshackle things that are woven tight against the sun and the biting desert storms. Some kind of island dominates the middle of the oasis, whose waters are so brightly reflective that they seem to be a glassy mirror.

They're chanting, and the sounds of their language break up on the winds into syllables liquid and chuckling like ice cubes rattling against each other.

Zephyr's heat-fuzzed mind focuses on only two things… Wyn's voice, somewhere… ahead of him, and… water, his will to live restored by her voice. o O {Can't… help her if I die out here… } That thought seems funny to him for some reason, and he giggles, eyes unfocused, as he stumbles towards the group. o O {Wolves! She must be there… must be… } "WYN!!"

Some of them turn to see Zephyr. A few cry out, and then a group of the creatures turns and starts to lope up the desert slope to meet the fox. They carry long sticks with heavy, sharp bits of obsidian tied to the tips.

Zephyr is not a desert fox. His exposure to the sun, and his thick winter coat have seriously overheated him. o O {Other wolves? Carrying something… torches. But it's too bright for torches… maybe they're from a cave… like Wyn's cave. Is her cave here? Must be… She moved her cave here. That's it… }

Up closer, they don't look like wolves at all… They look like ferrets! Brown fur nearly bleached white against the sun, patterned, tails thin and whippet-like. Their cries are alien and entirely un-Wyn-like as they meet the intruder, raising their primitive feathered spears with war cries.

The attackers pounce upon Zephyr, pummeling him with the blunt end of their spears, meaning to capture him alive – if not exactly unhurt – for whatever dark designs they intend.

Zephyr YELPS!, and tries to fend off the attackers, but… is too weak… he barely even feels the blows, in fact, as he tumbles into the sand. "I'm just looking for… Wyn. Is she… " That's the last he says as he drifts into unconciousness…

Black.

Very black.

The wind picks up again, ruffling the fur of the unconscious Zephyr.

It must be only a dream… Surely no furred creature would be so barbaric to shave patterns into their fur, to ritually draw blood from other creatures, to … sacrifice them? The chanting goes on long into the night and the morning, and the drums thud like the heart of the world.

When the red fox awakens, he is… strapped atop some kind of metal cylinder that feels icy cold beneath his battered body – broken bones for sure. Some other cylinders stand nearby like tiki poles or totems, bearing alien sigils including a trefoil design like a circle flanked with three outriding triangles. They're cracked. He's in the middle of the oasis… Wait. He was wrong about that too.

It is with pained eyes that Zephyr eventually ascertains that the water is really flat glass, as if some vast heat melted the desert sand. A large battered and rusted shuttle lurks like a squatting idol, its cockpit a shattered ruin. The savage ferrets, have festooned all of these with little scraps, beads, shells strung together, and placed skulls of all their enemies and sacrifices prominently on posts.

The necklace is missing.

Zephyr slowly comes to awareness, through a haze of pain… "Gah… " He winces, then looks around, taking a moment to absorb his surroundings, still fuzzy. o O {Shuttle… looks like someone shot it down… why am I… " He focuses on the broken cylinders… "K'hrai! Those are radioactive! I've got to get out of… " From deep within his being, the survival instincts of his ancestors come to life, focusing his his thoughts into one purpose… escape, fight, survive. It is only a moment later when he feels the necklace missing, and the wash of anger at that realization overrides all concious thought, filling his mind with the awareness of a threatened, and very, very angry predator.

Heavy straps lace around the fox's wrists, neck, body, legs, and ankles. The straps feel like reptile skin, and are just out of reach of claws and fangs, and the sun is blazing down hotly – the pain of multiple wounds makes it difficult to really think.

The cylinder feels icy cold against Zephyr's back…

A small dot in the sky appears some distance away.

Zephyr struggles to think through the haze of pain… which lessens as his survival instincts take over, replacing it with a different haze, of narrowed, near-monochrome vision, as he strains against his bonds, tracking the motion of everything around him, claws extended, teeth showing…

The reptile-skin straps stretch a little with Zephyr's pulling, cleverly tied crosswise so that it just makes them tighter where they lace around his wrists.

The dot moves closer and closer, though still a dot.

In the ferretoid village, the priest seems to be showing off the necklace to the others, acclaiming it as some kind of trophy that will bring them luck in battle. The warriors raise their spears to the sky with a war cry.

Zephyr stops pulling on the straps as they cut into his wrists, then fights to _think_, focusing on sensations, images, anything that can be used… o O {Why is this metal thing cold?} His eyes catch the slight motion of the dot, then focus on it… o O {Something flying… Ship?!} He struggles a little more, desparate.

Now coming into range, the dot begins to take shape as a large bird-like object.

The warriors cheer their priest and leave to stalk the wilderness for game… Women move out to the nearby fields, while two older ferrets work a pump that draws up water from a spring deep underground.

Zephyr glances away from the dot for a moment as he catches the glitter of metal… and recognizes his necklace, his eyes narrowing as he envisions what he's going to do to the one who took it. He glances back at the flying dot… watching it resolve as he squints into the sun, then shivers at a thought. o O {This metal thing feels like a medbay operating table, like when I got hurt in training that time… Oh, no… } His anger grows stronger and hotter, his determination and instincts strong. {I am getting out of here, and _someone's_ going to pay.}

Nothing seems to be in reach that Zephyr can reach – as far as he can feel, the pebbly side of the cylinder he's strapped to, exposed to the harsh sun, is blank except for the alien writing and the trefoil graph. There are a few fingernail-wide cracks in its surface.

Ever closer, the dot can now be seen as not a bird, but a bipedal creature with wings.

In the village, the priest retires to his hut. Two novice warriors take their places outside to guard it.

Zephyr scrabbles his extended claws futilely against the surface and cracks he can reach, wincing at an excruciating pain in his left arm and tracking the winged thing's descent… {Some people here… are going to really, really regret this, when I get free… }

Crista scans the ground, sharp eyes eventually falling on the scene below. "What the… what is that down there?" She begins to bank downwards slowly.

The two novice warriors don't seem to have noticed yet… They're talking to each other, perhaps about how moving last night's ceremony was and how they're sure to be prosperous this year because of the sacrifice.

Crista's eyes widen as she sees the imprisioned fox.

Crista loads her crossbow midflight, holding in one paw.

Zephyr warily tracks the winged creature, holding his left arm still again as the pain gets to be too much… o O {If it's not friendly, I've had it… }

Crista lands softly, close to Zephyr, trying to keep out of sight of the novices. "Be quiet. I'm here to help."

So far the villagers don't seem to have noticed…

Zephyr blinks, watching the strange creature, his ears weakly swiveling. Her speech is meaningless to him, but she doesn't seem to be attacking…

Crista pulls a knife from her belt and begins to saw through the bonds holding Zephyr. "Don't be afraid. I won't harm you."

Zephyr watches… her? keep out of sight of the villagers, but takes a sudden breath at the knife, wincing at his broken ribs… and forcing himself to calm as he sees what she's doing.

Crista saws through wrist bonds, then ankle bonds, the thick leather only slowing the sharp knife a little.

The reptile skin cuts slowly, but cleanly. VERY strong stuff.

Zephyr starts to gently slide off the metal cylinder, his claws flexing, sharp canines being shown as he glares at the hut where his necklace was taken.

Crista supports Zephyr as he begins to slide down. "Shhhh!"

A novice guard flirts at a female Kavi passing by, bearing a basket of freshly cut grass of some kind, making a rude hand-gesture. She sniffs disdainfully at him.

Zephyr winces again, still weak, but calling on strength out of instinct and anger. His expression softens slightly as he looks at Crista, giving her a quiet nod of thanks, then looking towards the hut again… ears flattening back, eyes narrowed.

Crista looks a bit alarmed as she sizes up that look. She shakes her head, putting a finger to her lips. She gestures out, away from the camp.

Zephyr silently points towards the hut, then makes a series of gestures… first of something encircling his neck, something being ripped from him… He then points to the hut again, showing his teeth and making a vicious slashing gesture with his claws extended.

Crista steps back a bit and raises the crossbow, clearly not understanding.

Zephyr starts to move, but winces with pain, and… finally realizing he's not in form to fight them now… quietly nods to Crista, his ears perking forward and lowering as he makes a weak 'lead the way' gesture with his good arm.

Crista nods, eyes showing her relief. She extends an arm in an offer to support Zephyr.

More of the Kavis are congregating in the village for a mid-day meal. Lunch for today: boiled grass with seeds left in, slices of some thick water-storing plant that doesn't appear to have the prickles of a cactus, but does have a woody outer skin, and as a treat, hard flat-baked cookies. One looks up to the makeshift altar and cries out. "The sacrifice is missing!"

Zephyr glances back towards the hut once more as he leans on Crista, his eyes nearly glowing with anger, teeth displayed… but turns, and follows her. o O {Soon, you little… I'll be back for it.}

Crista's eyes narrow as she hears the Kavi. She tugs on Zephyr's arm… "We must hurry. They are coming."

Zephyr nods, ears perking to track the approachers as he limps along, leaning heavily on Crista.

Crista clips the crossbow to her waist and puts both arms around Zephyr. "I am sorry, but we must hurry."

Two of the novice warriors appear at the edge of the crater, spears in hand. They cry out to each other and point down at the winged Solu and the escaping fox, then begin to run down inthending to intercept Crista.

More of the villagers appear over the crater's edge with horrified look. Bad luck! Sacrifices running off, very bad karma.

Zephyr blinks? and suddenly realizes as he looks again at Crista's wings. He's in no position to argue, and just wraps his good right arm around Crista as tightly as he can, careful not to overlap a wing.

Crista extends her wings and begins to flap them back and forth. "Ooof. I hope this works, or this is going to be a real short trip."

The fox closes his eyes against the air rush from the flapping wings, holding tight, not able to understand Crista's speech, but answering her softly with a parched throat. "Thank you… "

The novice warriors charge! One throws his spear early, causing the obsidian tip to shatter against the ground in a spray of black glass, but the other holds onto his, getting ready to make a more successful cast.

Crista continues to flap her wings, rising slowly above the ground. She puts all her energy into it, finally achieving forward motion.

The other novice warrior takes aim. He yells something that could be an importunation to some tribal deity, or a personal insult to Crista's or Zephyr's ancestry.

Crista flaps faster as the novice shouts something, shooting forward and up about 10 feet into the air.

a bit, watching their pursuers. He certainly seems to be no stranger for flying, any concern in his eyes is only for his rescuer, and he's being extremely careful to keep his weight balanced so as not to throw off her trim. o O {I almost lost a transport to a cargo shift, I guess this works the same way… }

The novice lets fly! The spear shoots up, passing… straight beneath Zephyr by just a few inches, the turbulence of its passage making her flying especially difficult for a bit.

Cursing, the novice warriors hurry back to the side of the crater to receive fresh spears.

Crista stutters in the air a bit, wings missing a beat or two. She says… "I don't suppose you could use my crossbow? We need an offensive tactic here."

The priest shakes the necklace in the air after the escaping two, then motions to the novice warriors: spare no effort in recapturing the sacrifice. They charge off with their spears, their feet faster on the glass than an overburdened flyer.

Zephyr only winces at the spears passage, not moving in the least. He looks into Crista's eyes as she speaks, not understanding her, but… trying to figure out what she means. He gently moves his free paw, spreading two fingers into a curve, then making a 'jabbing' motion downwards, at the same time making a soft 'hiss' through his teeth.

Crista nods. "Yes, yes, the crossbow! Can you unclip and fire it?"

The warriors chase with apparently tireless fervor. They chant, "DEATH to the sacrifices… DEATH to the sacrifices… "

Zephyr swivels his ears curiously, waiting for confirmation… and then nods! as he… thinks he grasps her meaning. He… slowly, to let her compensate for the movement, reaches around her, wincing with pain as he unclips the bow with his left hand, holding it tightly in his right hand. He slowly… painfully cranks it back with his left paw, then flattens his ears as he aims aft with the crossbow in his right paw.

The spearmen move up. They're just about in casting range now, to judge by one of them reading a spear to be thrown.

Crista stutters a bit in the air, compensating for Zephyr's movements deftly. "Good! I hope you can aim… soon would be good… " She tries to fly faster, but simply can't.

"Great Magellanic, guide my aim!" a Kavi warrior screams. He brings the spear back and gets ready to throw… Judging from previous throws, he's well within range.

Zephyr raises the bow, targeting the Kavi closest to throwing, sighting along the quarrel, his whiskers twitching as he compensates aim for windage and his own speed. He's obviously fired longrange weapons before. He moves a bit to the left… a little more… a little more up… and then triggers the bow!

*pow!* The Kavi warrior yells as the bolt twitches in his leg. He thumps to the ground in a great splash of coppery sands. His companion spares a look back at him, then narrows his eyes at Zephyr. That crossbow will take time to reload… If the sacrifice can even manage it in his condition.

The remaining Kavi warrior picks up the pace, coming into range. He *grins* showing the dental set of an omnivore.

Crista says, "Shoulder bag… quickly… "

Crista says, "I knew I should have reloaded that thing… that will teach me."

The ferretoid warrior's teeth are stained… red.

Crista flaps her wings a little faster, changing her angle of flight a little to try to confuse the pursuers.

Zephyr looks panicked for a second, not understanding words, then shifts the bow to his left paw, holding it gingerly and wincing as he lightly pats all of Crista's pouches that he can see… finally feeling what feels like quarrels in her shoulder pouch, and extracting a few. He quickly takes a few in his mouth to hold, snapping the last one into the crossbow and cranking it back… then shifting it to his right paw again, all as gently as possible so as not to knock Crista off-balance.

Crista shifts her balance, wings straining a bit.

Too late! With a sickening whistle, the spear parts Crista's spread left wing and causes her to lose control of her flight. The Kavi shrieks triumphantly as he charges toward the falling two.

Crista gasps in pain and begins to tumble groundward.

The desert hurtles upward like a dull red wall harder than sand has a right to be…

Zephyr YELPS!, hanging on tightly to Crista and the crossbow… "It's alright! If you can land, I can take him!" He winces at Crista's injury. o O {My fault… }

Crista flaps one wing, the tan of the other now stained with her blood. She manages a controlled crash, banking her speed a bit.

*SPLOOSH* Glass-metallic sand rakes against the Solu and the fox, and rocks bite through their fur. The terrible war-cry of a hunting Kavi rings triumphant as he races toward them to finish the sacrifice off…

Zephyr releases himself from Crista as soon as she contacts, ducking into a roll and clenching his teeth against the pain of his broken ribs. He finishes the roll upright, using his momentum to carry him up into a crouch, crossbow aimed true at the oncoming Kavi… and fires.

"FOR MAJELLA – " *urk*

The Kavi urghs, bolt standing out of his chest, but comes toward Zephyr with his knife as if he were some kind of legendary monster able to withstand any pain. He bares his red-stained teeth again.

The Kavi grins evilly and rushes toward the fox, crooked knife raised to stab…

Crista recovers from the landing enough to whip a knife out of her belt, lobbing it toward the attacking Kavi.

Zephyr, almost too exhausted to move, starts to weakly dodge to the side in an attempt to hook and sweep out the Kavi's legs from under it as it lunges. If he can get that far.

*whop!* What a bolt in the chest won't cure, a knife in the throat might. Coughing up blood, the Kavi's body completes its lunge to thump against Zephyr's outstretched leg and Crista's lower body like an overextended loan defaulted. The knife twitches in its hand.

Dead. And about time too.

Crista hisses in her teeth and collapses on her side.

The sun blazes down over the grisly spectacle. One dead Kavis. Two nearly so, a would-be sacrifice and his would-be rescuer.

Zephyr manages only enough strength to wrest the knife away from the dead Kavi, then crawls beside Crista, weakly using the knife to cut the shafts of broken feathers nearest her wing wound… then dropping it and pressing a black paw to either side of the injury, applying pressure to the wound as he collaspes beside her.

Crista pulls away a little, clearly not trusting the fox. She gestures, asking for the crossbow back, her eyes dark purple with pain.

Zephyr nods, and tiredly pushes the crossbow with his hindpaw from where he dropped it, moving it closer to her… then pointing to her wound, pressing his paws together, and pointing to it again. His eyes hold a lot of pain… but also concern.

Crista picks up the crossbow, clipping it once again to her waist. She nods slowly, but her body is still tense, her guard still up."

Zephyr's ears are drooped neutrally, his muzzle hiding his teeth, his tail down. He looks only… exhausted, as he gently applies pressure once again to Crista's wound, holding pawpads against either side of her wing, keeping them there until the bleeding stops completely.

Crista nods as the bleeding stops. She sighs softly and says… "Thank you." She struggles and stands, removing her knife from the Kavi with a look of distaste. "Ick." She looks around. "You are injured too. We need shelter and food."

The fox is obviously in a bit of pain as he keeps his left arm tense in the application… but keeps his paws where they are. He releases slowly, checking… then scoots backwards a bit, panting slightly, ears swiveling as he listens to the words… "I don't know what you're saying… But if you're saying we need to get out of this… " He shields his eyes, pointing to the sun beating down. "I agree."

There's also something odd about this fox. He seems to have a heavy _winter_ coat of fur… not what would be expected for this climate. It's affecting him, as already dehydrated… he's still panting heavily.

Crista thinks to herself, her left ear twitching as she thinks. "Ah ha!" she says after moment. Searching around in her pack, she removes a small bundle of material. Flicking it outwards, she presses around the edges and a small tent appears.

Crista watches the fox out of the corner of her eye, so he almost doesn't noticed he's being watched.

Crista looks around and retrieves the spear pole. She kicks the dead Kavi once on the way by.

*Thump* he rolls over on his back, blind eyes staring up at the sun. His red-stained fangs are even redder with heart-blood now.

Zephyr blinks. "Instant tent? Not bad… " He scoops up the dead Kavi's knife from where he'd dropped it, then looks down at himself and sighs. o O {I need a belt, or something… }

Crista tenses a bit as Zephyr picks up the knife, but finishes the tent and gestures for him to sit in it.

Zephyr nods to Crista, pointing to her wing and wincing slightly in obvious concern. He slowly… painfully pulls himself up, moving towards the tent, pausing only to search the dead Kavi. Finding nothing but some sort of tribal loincloth, he takes that with him, held in his paw with the knife as he crawls into the tent and falls heavily on his side. o O {Guess I can make a belt to hold the knife with this, or something… I need water… }

Crista scans the horizon briefly, as if looking for something. Rummaging in her bag again, she pulls out a medium sized leather bag that sloshes invitingly. She walks to the tent and gives it to the fox.

Crista shakes her head… "I know you can't understand me… I'm sorry, I don't know anything about healing, you'll just have to hang on until someone comes by or I can fly again."

Zephyr's ears perk?! "Water? But… " He quietly points to the bag, then to Crista, smiling weakly. "You drink first."

Crista looks at Zephyr for a moment, then at the bag… "Oh, you want me to show you it's not poisioned." She uncaps the bag and drinks, not much, just a mouthful. She returns the bag to Zephyr and rummages again in her bag.

Zephyr smiles quietly. "Good… want to make sure you have enough." He takes the bag, then knowing not to gulp, slowly drinks, and drinks… leaving a good amount in the bag, but rubbing a tiny bit into his dry nose and paw-pads to start himself cooling again. He carefully seals the bottle, then collapses back, panting… "I never knew water could taste so good… "

Zephyr rolls over on his side, quietly watching Crista. "Thank you for rescuing me… I'm just sorry you had to get hurt." He halfsmiles, then winces as he moves a bit too much against his ribs. "Ow. I just wish we could… understand each other… "

Crista takes the bag back and tucks it into her bag. "See, not poisoned." she says.

Crista walks a little ways from the tent. Taking a cylindrical object from her bag, she puts it in the sand. Pulling an attached thread lights it and it shoots up into the sky, into the clouds.

*Bang!* The flare explodes out one side, a little early, and begins laying a colored track of smoke across the sky toward one side of the desert.

Zephyr jumps! a little, wincing again. "Ow… have to stop moving. Oh… Flares! Great… " He smiles weakly, pointing up to the flare, tail swishing a little.

With a disheartening thump, it weaves about and then breaks up in mid-flight, showering smouldering chemicals toward the farther sands.

Still, there's an arch of colored smoke hanging in the air now. Will it be enough? Time will tell.

Crista sighs softly and trudges back to the tent. "Figures. Cheap flares. Never trust a merchant."

Time passes as the smoke is slowly whipped out of form and shape.

Crista sits a short ways from the tent, worriedly watching the smoke and gently nursing her wing.

There's the sound of distant hooves – no, not hooves, wide flat feet – tramping down the sand as riders approach… Zephyr hears it first, from the dunes to the east.

Zephyr quietly watches the smoke, still… hurting, but rested a bit, at least… He freezes as he hears the sound, large ears swiveling to track it, his paw rising to point in the direction. "Listen! What's that?"

Crista jumps up at Zephyr's voice, stumbling a little from her wound. She pulls the crossbow off and loads it with a full complement of arrows. Holding it at the ready, she moves to stand in front of Zephyr.

What's that… turns out to be Kavis! A heavily armed and equipped riding party of them, on large riding beasts with dog-like heads. They carry light cavalry bows slung behind their backs. They call out to the two stranded travellers…

And to Crista's relief, she recognizes them as the tribe to which she'd just carried a message a day or two ago.

Zephyr rises to a sitting position at least, hurriedly tying the loincloth fabric around the knife, then securing it to his waist, the knife in easy reach behind his back… just in case.

Crista sighs with relief and drops the crossbow as she recognizes the riders.

Zephyr looks up at Crista. "Friends? Or are we just giving up?"

"Aha! Crista-fendi!" the lead Kavi says cheerfully as he trots up. "Lost your way? Or did you forget something to give us? And who is your strange friend here?" His voice too is alien to Zephyr.

Crista shakes her head, seeming to comprehend… "They are friends."

Crista smiles wearily… "I found him strapped to a metal box… sacrifice victim, I think. I don't know what came over me, but I rescued him and was injured. He is injured too, I think."

Zephyr growls lowly, his hackles rising and ears flattening anyway. All he sees is the same kind of creature that he just barely survived, and he's… not in a good mood about them.

The closest riding beast whuffles at Zephyr's strange scent. It has long sabertooth-like canines and protruding spikes from its knees, and its feet splay out into three hoof-like pads each. Its tail ends in a furless whip.

"Huh! You should have known better – he was an offering to the god. The gods will demand another offering in his place. It will bring bad luck," the head Kavi reminds Crista with some offense. "Still, what is done is done.

Crista holds out a paw to Zephyr, shaking her head… "No, no… friend." She smiles, not showing her canines.

The Kavi shouts to his other men, two of which begin re-loading heavily laden riding beasts to make room for riders.

Zephyr glances from the Kavi to Crista, still wary, hackles still up… but he stops growling.

Crista chuckles softly… "I know, my friend. I know. As I said, I don't know what came over me."

The Kavi looks at Zephyr as one would examine someone else's ill-trained pet. "He does not seem to appreciate our rescuing you. Are you sure he is all right in the head?"

Crista leans against one of the riding beasts. "He saved my life and deserves good treatment for that, right in the head or not. I always pay my debts."

The Kavi twitches his ears. "Strange laws you Solus keep. Well, I suppose that I owe our best and most reliable messenger a ride and a camp until you are both well enough to fly again. Will you accept our hospitality, Crista-fendi?"

Zephyr struggles to stand as he watches the Kavi's look. "Don't you look at me like that… " He manages to stand… weakly, balancing with his tail, but with a dignified posture that suggests one who has been involved with military or court life.

Fortunately for Zephyr, the Kavis don't understand his babbling.

Crista nods to the Kavi… "Most gratefully so, yes. Thank you for coming to our aid." She nods reassuringly to Zephyr… "Come… they will help us."

Crista quickly breaks down her tent, folding it up and returning it to her bag.

The Kavi chief smiles, fangs hidden behind thin black lips. "Mount then. Hah! I bet you that you have never thought you would have to ride our kavaats than fly."

Other traders offer hands up for Crista and Zephyr.

Crista puts a paw out and mounts one of the kavaats… "You are right, I never did. In fact… " She looks down… "That's a long way down."

Zephyr watches Crista for a second… then nods softly, and reaches up with his good hand to be pulled up onto a mount, wincing with pain yet at each movement.

The Kavis cheerfully help Zephyr up. Quite a change: these are the very same species that only this morning tied him to radioactive fuel cannisters to be exposed to the sun and eventually die horribly, who are now kindly providers and traders. Some of them look at Zephyr warily, as if wondering if he is some kind of pet that will turn on them.

Crista wearily settles on the riding animal, looking back to Zephyr for a moment.

Zephyr watches the Kavi back warily too… He doesn't look all that 'civilized', his fur matted, scuffed and dry, his only posession or clothing a crude obsidian knife tied to a cord around his waist… but his eyes show that he's far more than a savage. He's not able to keep his hackles down or ears from flattening yet… But he looks quietly back at Crista, his eyes meeting hers, his expression softening. Even though his words mean nothing, their meaning is clear as he smiles weakly at her. "I owe you my life. Thank you."

Crista's purple eyes lighten a bit as she looks to Zephyr. She holds his gaze for a moment, and nods both in acceptance and her own thank you. Turning around, she slumps quietly on her mount.

Zephyr looks away, then, down at the sands as they pass. o O {Although it means nothing if I can't find Wyn… }