As I appeared to not be dead, I waited for a moment, then looked out. An endless sea of water stretched out before me, as vast and as measureless as the wastes of Yraht. I and my craft bobbed gently along the undulating, glistening surface.

This is not good. Yrahtians were not swimmers, and I was no exception to that rule. I popped open the bubble - with difficulty, of course -  and climbed half-way out, straining my eyes to see any kind of landmass nearby. 

"Alajis take this land," I snarled aloud. The horizon was devoid of any darkening, which I heard from sailing species was a good sign of land.

I glared down at the ship. They were completely useless in the water, of course. In fact, due to its constituent heavy materials, I was lucky it was even floating. Probably some technology on the bottom, or something. 

Growling to myself, I cast about for anything of use. Anything to help me traverse this wretched puddle. Unfortunately, my brother had not left me a paddle. Not that I could use it with these feet...but still. I muttered something which may or may not have involved alajis - our kind's word for the things humans called fleas - infesting Sanyi's fur. Every. Single. Inch. Of. It.

Grimly, I managed to get my small body out of the boat, and began to swim towards the horizon. Almost directly behind me, the sun was slowly sliding down. So...that meant I was going...east? Directions had never been my strong suite, and especially not Earth directions. Bah, it did not matter.

The water was...wet. And cold. And amazingly unpleasant. It seeped through my fur to my delicate skin, laying cold fingers on my very soul. Water was evil. Demonic. It sucked your soul out if you stayed in it long enough, or so we believed. No one had wanted to try and see, that was for sure. While a quick dip to cleanse oneself was mildly common, or a swift plunge to cross a river on a hunt, we Yrahtians never submerged for long intervals.

After all, the cleansing power of water came from its caustic nature. Every dip in it lessened your life expectancy. Dismally, I wondered how and IF my soul would survive this brutal treatment. My legs had shortened significantly, and I did not cut as agilely nor as swiftly through the water as I had in my true form.

Blinking salt-tinged spray from my eyes, I scanned the horizon again. Nothing. On I swam.

For what seemed like hours - and probably was, as my kind have an excellent sense of time, I fought on through the clinging wet, my dignity unraveling more with each wave that slopped onto my head. Instinct told me that land had to be somewhere nearby, but I still saw no darkening upon the clear horizon, and the sun was low in the sky.

Then I saw it. The very faintest smudge of land, on the brink of the horizon. Joy spurted into my heart like blood from a deep gash. I was saved. I spurred my tired legs onward, ignoring the ache as best as I could. Warriors did not allow pain to stop us; we used it as a tool to drive ourselves to greater heights.

I panted raggedly.  Just a bit more....Yes, I was lying to myself. But sometimes it was necessary. 

It was morning, cold, gray, and dismal, by the time that the rocky shore hove into view. I was exhausted, and my vision was wavering as I dragged myself from the cold wetness. No doubt my weakened state came from the agony of my dying soul. I crawled up the rocks towards a beach that looked like a truly wonderful place to rest my weary body. Thankfully, it was deserted of anything but a few palm trees waving gently in the wind. I flopped upon the sand, and fell almost immediately asleep.