But it wasn't soon enough. Silently, careful not to wake Annabel, who looked very much worse for wear, Kipfel laid back down and worried away at the blood on his talons, licking it off to keep his paws clean. This light was not as bad as the bright blue of Star, shining harshly against the white of Albenugia. It was almost tolerable in some respects, though he imagined the zenith hours would be painful and in his interest to be slept through.

This world, really, was a strange color. It was a strange motley of colors. The sky was blue, not rich purple. The sun, though it pained him to look at, was bright yellow. This strange green stuff, which he tapped Annabel's memory and a very faint memory from a mother he had long ago forgoten, was grass, and those over there, across the wide, deep channel, were trees and bushes. The bright things among them were either birds, berries, or blossoms, and even the stones were not the same shade of grey that the Maze had been. They glittered beneath this transparent liquid that surrounded their chunk of earth, later fading to blue and then blackish blue-green.

His world, which had long ago lost its colors in exchange for the sharp greyscale and metalic of the Maze and the technology of World, fought with this strange new reality. He was at once frightened and relieved that there were colors more than the blue of Nabel's wings, the purple of the sky, the red of blood, and the black of darkness. He watched the liquid cautiously. Was this the water that Nabel's memories told him almost killed her?

And how was he able to access her memories so easily anyway? He worried. Though she often let him have some measure of free reign through her mind when he got bored, he had always had to ask to see or pry or be told what things were. She never let him go uninvited. She was strong.

Was he strong like she was, he wondered? Was she as strong as she had been? He worried over her and nosed her face worriedly. Why hadn't she woken up first? Was she okay? He lay down with his front paws across her stomach, and his head resting on them.

He would keep a vigil, and none would come to hurt Good Mistress Nabel, as she had made certain for him many times before.

For two and a half days, Kipfel kept his vigil, never once moving lest he miss an intruder. He noticed that the water in the channel washed away twice a day, and that the water around them was not good for drinking, because it left his mouth feeling much drier than it had been before he had tasted it. He knew he had been sleeping at times, because sometimes he would close his eyes and the light was a different degree of intense. His dark skin ached underneath its tiny scales, and sometimes it hurt to close his eyes, but he knew he had to do it. Nabel would fuss if she found out he'd been trying to bake his eyes out because it hurt to close them.

On the third morning, Kipfel decided that the other shore was fairly safe. However, he would have to wait for the tide to go out again to drain the water from the channel. He had tried to see if the strange substance would support his weight, but it was obvious that, if the liquid would hardly support a few tufts of grass, there was no way it would support a dragon. And the fall did not look too inviting, either.

So he waited. It was only a few hours' time more of vigilence, this time directed at the water. He would explore inland a little to find something drinkable, unlike this horrible concoction of chemicals that was so bitter for him. Then, he would try to find something to eat. He had never gone hunting before, and he imagined he would not be very good at it, but he did not want to risk finding out which of the fruits on the shoreline were edible.

He knew there were small creatures that lived in the forest, for he had seen one or two, but they looked too stringy to be much good for eating. He knew it was going to be difficult catching one, especially how they jumped around the trees. Still, he would do for any type of meat at the moment.

Soon, the tide began to go out, and Kipfel waited patiently. He had time. Eventually, Kipfel decided the water was low enough, and he jumped down, splashing in up to his ankles. He picked his way carefully across the bottom, making sure he never sank any further than half-way to his shoulders. With a bit of effort and much thanks to his talons, he scrambled up the shore. He checked around, pausing to listen. There were no alien noises. Now, he had to find fresh water.

Kipfel began his return to Annabel, his missions for both food and water successful. The creatures here did not put up too much of a chase, and he had snared two of them with relative ease, hungrily devouring their tender bodies, especially enjoying their livers. The forest did not seem to mind him, however, but he was careful to avoid any sort of brightly-colored creatures, for fear that they might be poisonous.

He was almost there. There were only a few hundred more meters to go before the tidal island would be in sight again. That's when he heard them.

Crouching low and creeping through the undergrowth with a certain amount of instinctual stealth, Kipfel crept closer to the islands, to the voices, and to the strange languages being spoken. It was harsh and pompous in tone as he listened in on what was being said. Totally wrong for a language.

"Scio venitis. Habamus ventum secundum," a male voice said. It sounded like perhaps it could be gentle, but he would take no chances. Not with others so close to Nabel, and not with Nabel alone.

He finally caught a glimpse of them. Three beings, each one more different than the others. They were strange creatures. All of them had hair, and they were strange colors in appearance. There was a tallish one with slightly lavender skin and long blonde hair, a short one with green-grey hair and skin the color of the sand around the shore, and a small, light purple dragon with feathered wings, a pearl necklace, and a bulbous snout. The three of them were still far enough away from Nabel that he could not label them as a 'threat', and they were looking out across the ocean. Even so, Kipfel felt his hackles rise at the very thought of outsiders being so close to his bondmate.

Then, they did the impossibly stupid. They began to walk towards her.

Kipfel felt himself growling as they passed him, and then felt his muscles coiling to pounce as they stopped in front of the island. The dragon and the short one grabbed the tall one and tried to hold him back, but he was stronger than both of them, and he began to run towards the water. That was all Kipfel could take. His muscles rejoiced as he let them fling him heavily and quickly with pounding footfalls across the sandy shore. He veered around the dragon and short person before leaping airborne and landing heavily on the tall person, letting them both be carried by momentum down into the channel.

Violently, Kipfel thrashed at the person, despite being horribly out of his element, leaving the person with heavy wounds from his talons tearing through his arms, legs, and chest. Other areas began to bleed, too, and huge red tendrils spouted from his neck as the person screamed under the water.

Under the water!? Kipfel suddenly realized where he was and fought to claw his way to the surface and leave the man beneath the waves to die. However, a pair of firm hands grabbed Kipfel around the chest and dragged him out of the water. Annabel set him on the island calmly before jumping in and pulling the man up to the surface.

She rolled him up to the island, his chest heaving and his face contorted in pain as the red tendrils coiled back into his neck again. She pulled herself out of the water next to him, glaring sternly at Kipfel, who had the decency to look slightly guilty. He watched as she pulled the shirt off his chest, revealing wounds deeper than Kipfel had made.

The man made a pained noise and went to sit up, but Annabel quickly pressed him down, pressing her hands to his forehead and stomach. "Shh... You'll be all right," she whispered in tones much more calming than the man's own language. The purple dragon and the short person, who turned out to be a young girl, were making their way over to the island to see what was happening to their companion. Kipfel let them through, but he kept a steady eye on Annabel.

Her bright blue wings blossomed from her shoulder blades, and she closed her eyes. The dragon and the child held their breaths as the man winced again. Annabel whispered, hurriedly:

A silvery whisper of an angel's silhouette leaned over her crouched body, collecting a black mist from the lacerations over the man's skin. The cuts themselves moved over the man's body, his form rigid in pain, his eyes clenched tight, as one after the other left his body and traveled up Annabel's arm to reappear on her body somewhere. The last of the wounds appeared on her skin as the man opened his eyes, the pain almost totally gone.

He realized what she was doing, and he pulled her hands off him, speaking too quickly in his tongue for Kipfel to even begin to catch. Annabel smiled wanly and Kipfel watched as the angel form behind her laid its hands on her shoulders and the wounds healed themselves. It was a useful trick.

The man sat up and stared at her in a way that made Kipfel uneasy. "Quid est-ne tuum nomen?" he asked, and Annabel looked lost. "Nomen," he repeated, laying his hand on his chest. "Nomen mihi est Tren Galdro. Nomen suua est Delinet, et nomen suua est Marajha." He pointed first to the dragon and then to the child.

Annabel looked a bit bewildered, though about to speak nonetheless. Instead of letting her, however, Kipfel stepped between them, glaring sharply at the man. He sat in stony silence, his tail lashing a little, until Annabel laughed and patted his shoulder affectionately. "Annabel," she said laying her own hand on her chest before pointing to Kipfel. "And this is Kipfel."

The man, Tren, smiled and reached out to pat Kipfel on the head, but thankfully he growled enough to discourage such action. Instead, Nabel and Tren took to having a rather complicated conversation involving hand motions and using as many words from each others' respective languages as possible.

It was surprising how thorough a conversation they could have in such a simplified manner, and Kipfel kept a touch on Annabel's mind as she learned that Tren and his two companions were waiting for friends with a ship to find them due to unfortunate circumstances. They also learned that there were dragons like Kipfel here, and that his color was fairly uncommon, and perhaps he would like to meet them?

As it turned out, Kipfel had little choice. The five of them crossed to the mainland that evening when the tide went out again, and set up a camp of sorts. As they saw when the morning came, the fire had attracted a ship, and a man who looked a lot like tren swam ashore to greet them, joined by a long, snake-like blue-green dragon, who was excited for a reason no one really could understand but her.

"Tren!" the second man called, joined in by the musical mind-tones of the dragon as they ran and slithered, respectively, to join Tren, chattering happily with him.

Annabel and Kipfel stayed politely aloof, and carried on a conversation quietly between themselves, where Annabel taught Kip what words of Tren's language that she knew. Kipfel, for once, acknowledged the learning of a different language as something useful, though tedious. He was reluctant to learn, but he knew that perhaps the skill would come in handy at a later time.

Their lesson was interrupted, however, when the dragon slithered over to them and smiled. *Hello, Kipfel,* she said clearly in his head. *Welcome home.*

Kipfel blinked and stared at the female. *What?* he asked.

She laughed and smiled. *It's been a long time, I know, but I'd like to introduce myself. I'm Clarinet, your mother.*

Kipfel backed up, a little unsure of what the female was talking about, and found himself bumping into Annabel. "What's the matter, Kip?" she asked, looking down at the black, who gazed up at her.

*My... mother?*

Clarinet nodded gracefully. *That's right.*

He stared at the ground, unsure of anything at the moment. He remembered a little. A few very sketchy feelings of fear and abandonment rushed in through incomplete memories. He definitely remembered her voice, or did he? He looked up and met Clarinet's eyes.

*I'm sorry,* he said, *but I can't remember you at all.*

Clarinet nodded kindly. *I understand,* she said softly, wrapping her tail around Kipfel's shoulders in a makeshift hug. *Just take my word for it in good faith.*

Kipfel nodded, totally dazed. *So ... then ... Clarinet?*

She laughed and led the way back to the group. *You can call me 'Mom'.*

*Are there many of us?*

*Bishel dragons?*

*Is that what we are?*

Clarinet blinked at him. *Have you been living in a -- ... Yes you have, nevermind.* She nodded. *Yes, that's what we are.*

*Are there many of us, then?*

*Less than there once were, more than you'd think.*

Kipfel nodded. In some strange way, that made more sense than he'd expected. *Do I have siblings?* he asked.

*You do.*

*Other blacks?* He looked a little apprehensive.

*No, darling. No other blacks. Not yet anyway.* Her black eyes shone happily. *But you do have three brothers and four sisters.*

Kipfel nodded slowly. *Will I ever get to meet them?*

Clarinet smiled. *As soon as we set sail again, you'll be a month or two away from them.*

*Set... sail...?* Kipfel replied, his tone anxious.

*On the ship,* Clarinet nodded.

Kipfel froze in place.

Clarinet noticed and turned. *You're not scared of a little water, are you, Kipfel?* she asked, worried that one of her children would be scared of water.

*What?* He laughed nervously. *Me? Scared of water? Heh. Umm... Don't be silly. Of course I'm not...*

Clarinet nodded. *All right, then. We'll be setting sail tomorrow morning.*

Kipfel tried to mount convincing excitement, but it just wasn't working. In fact, he was feeling down-right pale. There had to be a way out of this whole 'ship' thing, and if there was, he'd be the one to find it.