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The ocean waves roared in Cabot's ears. Cold ocean spray roused him from slumber, though a brutal headache--and that meant a lot, for a species like him--plagued him. Chilly winds and dark skies meant he was in the middle of a storm... But what happened? How did he get there?
Water brushed against his tail. He wasn't on a boat--he was on part of one. Driftwood. A shipwreck. And no island in sight to swim to.
The skies twirled with the signs of an incoming storm, streaks of red drifting between the clouds being the only indicator that something was not right. And far above those clouds was a great silhouette with glowing, red eyes and great, wide wings. Next to him, shadowy and oddly familiar shapes drifted face-down in the water. A Sandslash, an extinguished Ponyta, even a Clawitzer lay completely motionless in the water.
The figure in the sky was descending toward Cabot, the lone survivor of the shipwreck.
Water brushed against his tail. He wasn't on a boat--he was on part of one. Driftwood. A shipwreck. And no island in sight to swim to.
The skies twirled with the signs of an incoming storm, streaks of red drifting between the clouds being the only indicator that something was not right. And far above those clouds was a great silhouette with glowing, red eyes and great, wide wings. Next to him, shadowy and oddly familiar shapes drifted face-down in the water. A Sandslash, an extinguished Ponyta, even a Clawitzer lay completely motionless in the water.
The figure in the sky was descending toward Cabot, the lone survivor of the shipwreck.