The worst way to wake is to open your eyes to the sound of your hull scraping along the hostile atmosphere of an unknown world. Cir'ide hadn't even the faintest idea of where he was. All he could guess was that he may soon die.

As he sprang from his sleeping chambers to make his way toward the helm, the entire ship jolted and lurched unexpectedly. The functions of the ship which created a hammock of artificial gravity fought with the much greater pull of the planet and he rolled backward in involuntary somersaults down the hall.

The young hunter was flung by the battling forces of the ship and the world below in all directions but the one he wanted to go. The helm was twice as far now, not that he cared much about the greater distance in that instant when his body met the end of the corridor and the closed passage into the kehrite. The force of the impact was sufficient to create a concave dent in the door and to break bones.

Cir'ide was trapped, held fast to the dead-end by the velocity at which his vessel moved toward catastrophe. He scrabbled at his side, howling with anger and pain. What madness was this? The ship was older, a ritual vessel, but he hadn't suspected it to be faulty to the degree that would result in this.

At the helm, he could right the ship and determine what had gone airy. Urgency filled his thoughts as the turbulence began to even into a smooth drop. There was no time. Cir'ide was certain he would never make it to the control array before the ship and he with it met their final rest.

Death , he could practically smell it as his craft fell from the skies. The young hunter expected the end of his path to come instantly, in a crushing impact and perhaps followed by an explosion, but instead, there was a moment of weightlessness and then his world shook violently. The yautja fell from his place at the hall's end, twisting in the chaotic flight toward the open doorway of the helm. He saw the seats and the sensor array very briefly and very closely before a blanket of void encircled him.

Cir'ide may have been unconscious for some time, but it was impossible for him to know how long. When he awoke he saw and heard very little as his senses were dulled by the ache in his head.

The first thing he could see and comprehend were the heat of sparks dancing from the exposed and circuit boards under his body. There was also this dull roar inside his head, like gushing water, but it was indeed water that overwhelmed Cir'ide's ears.

The hull had been breached upon descent through the atmosphere or during the crash. The lower deck was filling up rapidly .

"I've fallen into a body of water? An ocean?" He asked himself, now feeling the cold of the water as it infiltrated the upper deck and spilled forth into the place where he lay dazed and disoriented. The shock of its frigid touch roused him more completely. The ship had crashed, he recalled, but he did not die on impact. Instead, he might drown inside his own vessel.

Escape was not overly difficult, what with the fear of drowning to add additional urgency to the effort. He soon emerged from a roof hatch to stand atop the vessel as it floated. The ship had plummeted face first into the great sea around him which seemed to writhe and roil as the sinking vessel created vortexes in waters around it.

The hunter was glad that he always slept in his awu'asa the night before a hunt in order to acclimate to the feel and additional weight, but this place was certainly not the oceanless destination he'd plotted a course toward. The ship must have fallen out of peak speed and veered, perhaps due to a glancing tickle from a gravitational anomaly.

At least the communications device upon his left wrist could send a signal for assistance to the flotilla. That was just what Cir'ide had begun to do as he stood upon the tail half of the ship while it continued to sink. He hazarded a guess that he'd have a half-hour before he'd need to abandon the ship and swim for the shore which was within sight, thank Paya. Too bad the vessel did not seem to want a reprieve from the murky depths.

The ship's residual buoyancy, trapped pockets of gaseous atmosphere which he'd once breathed, caused the balance within to shift and the still floating mass to roll over. He was tossed toward the left flank of the ship as it breached briefly. He tried to get a claw-hold in before slipping down the belly of the craft as it continued to turn over in the ocean. Into the water he went unceremoniously and ass first.

Perhaps several minutes later he stood ankle-deep in the sand watching his home for the last half of this season sink into the black depths. Cir'ide had his awu'asa, ki'cti-pa, and the kit for injuries but not much else.

His head was sore, and he was certain that he'd broken a rib. To add unto the steadily worsening situation, any other equipment on his person was mangled thanks to the current washing him into the sheer cliff over and over before he managed to find proper footing to haul himself out onto the adjacent sandy shore.

He was boned. Pauk . Nothing but the basest mechanical tools worked. The wrist communicator was smashed, sivk'va-tai offline, helm dysfunctional. All that could be done now was watch the ship vanish under the crashing waves.

Cir'ide had to sit, ignore his burning side and just breathe. The air was thin but tolerable. He could survive for a while so long as he avoided straining existing wounds or overexerting. Gods, he felt pathetic to sit there knowing he had no means out and no way to call home.

Once he'd caught his breath, Cir'ide tried to reach his ship but the surf; it was far too ferocious for him.

It is important to note that Cir'ide was young, fancied himself superior to every yaut produced during the breeding season from when he was sired, and considered himself worth as much and more than a blooded warrior twice his age. So, naturally, he was smashed, tossed, shaken, and sloshed about in the fierce waves yet again. A fool will always take two swipes at the same mistake.

He did reach the vessel on merit of determination alone, however, it was slowly sinking into the muck below the waves. He'd learn later that the tides were unusually high on that day and that where he'd crashed was a shallow lagoon. He should never have left the ship and should have tried to bring systems back online to rescue it from its doom first . Cir'ide realized this far too late.

His legs were nearly swallowed by the clay as he searched for the entrance hatch. If he could just get it to open- Too late, out of breath.

Yautja surfaced only to be slammed and dazed by yet another swell. He hadn't even the time to take a full breath before being swept under and pulled over jagged sea rock.

When Cir'ide reached the shore for the second time, he was sure that all hope had been lost, also certain that he would bleed to death if he did not find a suitable place to lick his wounds. He held onto his thighs where they were carved open by sea rock only momentarily. He decided then to walk and find that quiet place to tend to his injuries.

He soon found a cave along the cliffs. It was there that he slowed the flow of thwei seeping from the open gashes with lengths of excess material from his breechcloths and trappings. He tied them tightly around the gnarled flesh. He needed to save what he could from his kit; Paya knows how long he could be stranded here… Before settling on ending my sorry, disgraceful self, he thought as he searched himself for the kit to mend wounds. All he felt that he needed was a simple injection to ward off any chance of infection.

With his well-being attended to for now he could see to the needs of the equipment that he had managed to save from total destruction. He only needed to tweak his helm a little to get it working on an alternate power supply within the item itself for emergencies. his wrist communicator was pretty much a lost cause, but the other function of this piece of equipment could still work. The display icons may never light up warmly again, but he found that just one still worked when touched so that he could cloak his countenance and make his image fade away from any there to look, and there were none at the moment so he left it turned off.

Cir'ide knew he had to be careful until he could repair the solar unit which would charge all energy stores within his awu'asa, until then everything would have to pull energy from the meager supply located within that helm of his. He would need to be frugal with the use of such things.

He'd done as much as he could expect of himself on an empty gut, little sleep, and with a pounding head. Slumber called to him, offering her bosom of comfort. He should have been thankful that his gear was water-tight and he would learn this quickly.

Cir'ide awoke cold and soaked to his bones all over again. His nostrils were attacked by the briny stink of yet more seawater. He stood, shook off what wetness he could, and wondered if this element truly had a mind of its own and wished to make an enemy of him. He did not know then how accurate his thoughts were.

Cir'ide could not exit through the cave's ocean-facing opening so he needed to venture deeper if he wanted to find respite. He had already learned the hard way that this turbulent coast offered no mercy. With water already up to his waist, he was not thick-skulled enough to try leaving the way he came and diving back into the waves which left him in such a sorry state. This shallow interior chamber had been a foolish place to sleep.

Had he not been in such atrocious condition he may have considered braving that terrible water again. He knew himself to be brave but not quite that stupid; so he dredged on into the unknown of the caverns, wet and shivering the entire way.

The water seemed to have worn deep trails ahead of him, eroding away rock. By stopping to observe the flows it was apparent that these formations and trenches in the stone had taken time to form. Many passing cycles, seasons. Perhaps even eons.

Where was he? What world had he landed on? There was enough damned water to name it a few that he knew of. He'd have to look at the local topography to know which out of the four or five planets this one could be. That would take walking, much of it. He needed more rest before then.

Finally, he came to an opening which led to another chamber. This one was huge, deep but both wide and tall. The rapidly flowing waters passed around his legs to fall a hundred and fifty noks into a deep erosion worn pool before flowing out in tendrilous, winding streams weaving around cave columns to form a conjoined and rapid subterranean river. Presumably this water would eventually find its way back into the ocean, most rivers and streams behave this way after all.

From the apex of the waterfall where he stood, he could see across the width of the chamber and up toward the ceiling of the space. There was a great wide opening there which led to the surface. He could spy the native flora encircling the cave mouth above and yet more waters flowing into the hole from outside. Immediately he understood the harsh sea and all of this water. Rains had brought on this flooding.

Paya must have pitied him, for within this chamber there appeared to be a few dry haunts in which to escape from this cold, wet onslaught. They were all across the way. Wind worn ledges and overhangs that he could find cover within. One could dig himself inside these creases in the eroded walls and make a cramped camp; though he'd first have to navigate the way down to the cavern floor.

Clambering down was no easy feat with each leg torn open down the front. He nearly lost his footing several times over when his knees threatened to fail and his shivering shook him to the core. Down he went with time, working at a suckling's pace.

The air was thin on this world and that did not help him in his quest to reach the bottom. He really did feel like the climax of a sick joke. He'd heard honored Hish warriors make snide remarks when they thought all other ears too dull. "How many yaut'ja does it take to make fools of their entire race? Just one without his helmet on!"

They never would let the yautja clans move on from the misfortunes that took place on N'-ithya Ju'dha. Fuck the Hish, and shame on my Sire's decision to allow such trash thwei among we people of the last war clan , he thought to himself with a terse nod as he descended. Permitting them into the clan fold was an outrage that he had voiced openly, disgusting .

Once safely at the floor of the cavern he halted his spelunking shortly to rest his palms over his knees and look on with heavy breaths to figure out a way to navigate to the place he wanted to go. He would have to go over or around the chilled run-off from the rain as it formed many deep looking streams and channels in the rock beds.

There was a way, it involved crossing the mud-coated fallen columns and stalactites. He'd get filthy on the way toward the dry crevice in the wall which he traversed toward and whether it was worse to be soaked or dirty is debatable. Either way, he did not enjoy the feel of gritty silt and sediment coating his skin and getting into every wound.

Once across and eager to find some rest he was surprised by a scent. It indicated the presence of another in the chamber.

This scent was not Yautja nor Hish, but more like the tart scent of an animal, yet somehow it was familiar to him. The familiar aspect put him on edge for he was not too naive to disregard any information his surroundings offered him.

This scent was prey, a species he knew to be dangerous yet he could not quite put a talon on what it might be.

It would have to wait. There was no physical evidence of recent habitation by any creature here. What kind of stupid thing would try to make a nest here anyway? If anything had ever lived here the flooding would have driven it out if not drowned it.

For the sake of assuming nothing until he knew better, he resolved to closely investigate the scent later on. Until then he'd keep alert until he could ensure that no threat was present. For the time being, he would sleep, inner eye open and watchful for danger.