RUN, don't walk!

In less time than Fred thought possible, the Pack is gathered around the Slipgate that Willian had appeared at, so long ago it seems!

"Fred, I don't know how to get this thing to work . . . . with transporting over five humdred souls at a time!" whispers Willian fiercely.

"Oh for crying out, hand on!" shouts Synizn in disgust. The werebear taps out a rapid, nonsensial pattern on the pedestal that stands in front of the dias that makes up the slipgate. An ember light flashes outward, engulfing the nervous Pack, and drops them three feet to the floor of a large cavern.

"Oh, shit." Fred whispers, looking up at a large red scaled dragonness looking down at the Pack. Several Pack members do what any ordinary people would do in a situation like this. Some scream. Some run for the dubious safety of the far walls. Some take up defensive positions in front of loved ones, ready to fight to the death to defend against this . . . . monster. The dragonness has an abstracted look on her muzzle, if Fred is any judge of dragons as he prepares to defend his . . . . friends and family from the apparent threat.

The dragonness just looks at the scared, snarling Pack members in front of her, gives off a choking sound, and suddenly stands before the frazzled Pack as a remarkedly plain looking woman somewhere in her thirties. What makes them stay their hand, the Pack, is that . . . . . the dragonness is . . . . . crying silently and . . . . has a look of such utter loss that . . . . would move even the most callus heart of the meanest man to pity.

"What my eyes have seen today . . . . Oh GODS," she moans. "Just . . . let me die."

The Pack just stares at the dragonness in human form. A suicidal dragon? This can't be happening. The werebear Synizn seems the most stunned, and upset!

"Malachi!" he gasps, stepping forward to stand in front of the dragonness. "Why . . . . what happened? Where are the . . . . What's going ON!?"

This brings nervous muttering from the Pack. Something is just weird here!

"Their gone," Malachi says, still crying silently. "With the Golems hunting us, even with the sudden ceasation . . . . ."

The dragonness blinks, suddenly looking around at the listening Pack. She continues.

"They still weren't trusting of those creatures," she chokes out. "So they were still up in the areas of the Lizards when . . . . . the mother of all firestorms . . . . . incinerated it all.

"I felt them DIE!" she screams, crying as the werebear ackwardly hugs her. "There's only a few left . . . . the race of Dragonkind is . . . through."

Synizn's mind is racing, and heart is sinking. Malachi appears to be telling the truth, but . . . why didn't he . . . . He suddenly feels like slapping himself. He's no longer a dragon. All mystical connections to the general welfare of dragonkind had faded our days ago. It had denoted the final fading of . . . what he had been. He looks down at his long time friend, and can tell . . . . . Malachi's will to live is nearly gone. That fact in itself is frightening to the dragon spy. Something must be done, or the dragonness will end her own life!

"He's still alive, Malachi." Synizn says. "Minestus is stil alive!"

The dragonness blinks, looking up into Synizn's eyes, and the werebear swears he sees the wheels spin in her head.

1. "The geise against clothing." she whispers, looking at the naked forms of the Pack......

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