The only thing the tawny-yellowish coyote could recall in any recent memory was all this water, salty and terrible and vast. Though she had been afloat only a few hours, the ship and the captain and everything else seemed ages behind her. They had run aground after being blown far too northward by a terrible wind, unable to stabilize themselves in the choppy and frigid north Atlantic. The cold water current along the coast had swept them up and shoved them northward, dooming them. In an attempt to land, the ship's crew had attempted to navigate it toward the shore; they had not foreseen the rocks, hidden beneath the dark swell of the ocean. There hadn't been much crew left to drown, but what was left had perished quickly, unable to swim hard enough to reach the shore still several hundred yards away. Molcaxitl had survived only by nabbing a piece of driftwood; whether the rest of the thirteen or fourteen remaining crew or even any of the four other slaves left had employed similar survival techniques was not known to the coyote.

The ship had originally departed from Barbados¹ nearly a month ago, travel made slow and dangerous by the winter conditions once they had gotten out of the Carribbean. Though they'd hugged the coast the entire way, prior to making port at Freetown they had been blown wildly off course, encountering harsh storms and harsher winds. The crew and cargo had been much larger at first, of course -- however, the length of the journey had been generously underestimated by the captain, and part-way through the journey, several slaves had been killed, presumably ground to be re-fed to the other slaves -- Axi had noticed there was a distinctive improvement in the age of their meat following this incident. Molcaxitl was vaguely glad she was among them, but a sting of remorse and jealousy had also tinged the reserved hybrid; though instinctively she had wished for her survival and felt relief when she obtained it, some other part of her yearned for an end. She envied those that had gone overboard.

Axi had not been the only one to be forcibly taken northwards -- most of the other slaves were some kind of dog or coyote hybrid, few wolves among them. She did not know why this was nor did she question it, though it awakened a strange indignation within the pallid hybrid. At least her former masters had been coyotes or dogs -- she had never experienced such a thing as this, the wolf held over the coyote. Still, it was clear enough to the Eternian who currently possessed ownership of her, and for that reason more than any, she had remained silent. Some of the others had seemed less used to this lifestyle -- they had cried and raged and whimpered in the belly of the ship. When the cargo had been culled, they were the first choice. Their silence was a relief -- Axi knew there was no point in fighting it, at least not for herself. There was no question in the hybrid's mind that she was made for this.

Now, though, adrift in the open ocean, the tan-hued coyote thought her life might be coming to a close. Her purpose had been served, and she had disappointed the Tzatzi family -- her family, though she did not truly understand this idea -- and thus, she had been traded northward. Axi could not so much as lift her head from the shattered plank that had been her salvation; the panic and adrenaline of the prior hours had all faded away, leaving nothing but a thin and water-logged form, devoid of all energy. She might have known she was drifting closer to shore rather than further out to sea; she might have seen the looming mountain and the beach. She did not, and the woman was unaware just how close she was to continued life. A jarring scrape and a sudden stop jerked her nearly off the board, her body rolling half-off the plank and landing in the shallows.

One thin arm raised, pulling herself languidly back onto the plank. Her head raised heavily, unkempt and wild hair clinging to her head. Her bright orange-red eyes peered blearily at the sight before her as the frigid ocean water lapped at her back steadily. At first, she did not understand. Axi thought she had died or drowned, and she was coming ashore to the afterlife -- she had never seen such such things as the pale white clinging to the trees, the ground, the earth itself. Her vermillion-shaded eyes blinked several times, half-leaning on the plank and half standing on her own weight, aided by the buoyancy afforded by the water. Utterly confused, she released her hold on the piece of driftwood and made her way forward, walking ashore slowly.

The coyote dragged herself to the shore, promptly collapsing again once she had reached dry land, her legs unable to support her weight. Though she was immediately aware of the cold in the air and shivering, she could not draw herself up again, finding the relatively soft, solid sand to be more comfort than she could handle. She was so very tired -- she could sleep here and now, even certain as she was that the cold would kill her. She had not seen the other canine's approach, and the sound of a harsh voice startled her, though not nearly to her feet. The most Axi could muster was to lift her head, orange-yellow eyes staring blearily toward the stranger. Though she did not know this canine, her gaze instinctively avoided the face, finding the insubordination of eye contact far too much to bear.

Axi did not know what to expect from this woman. Her vermillion-shaded eyes had not yet focused on the other canine's face, something she dared do only when it seemed others were not looking. The tawny-hued woman hesitated, listening carefully to the question. The English was strange and nearly foreign to her, tinged with an accent she did not recognize.

“¿Que?” she asked, her soft voice speaking in native Spanish. Her head was far too jumbled to consider answering in English, though she immediately regretted the discrepancy of language. “Sorry... no understand,” she said, shaking her head. The accent was simply too difficult for her to pick through, and even as she spoke English her own native tongue shone through clearly enough.

She was taken underground, into a vast network of caves. This made her nervous -- Axi had only known the caves of Eterne, and to the canines of her homeland, these were a sacred place. She would have sullied the innermost parts with her mere presence -- slaves were not meant to enter that far into the ruins unless they had been first purified, cleansed of their dirtiness by the Xochitl before they were allowed to excavate any of the underground ruins. Still, the hybrid could no more vocalize her concern than she could have run away from her former lifestyle.

A glimmer of hope had arisen within her -- she had not been purchased. No traded goods or services had come to this sable-shaded canine in exchange Axi's presence; perhaps this meant she was no longer owned. They made their way through the caves slowly, with the smaller, lighter canine leaning heavily on the other for support, until they came to a corner and a much smaller cave, with a few off-shoots. There were the smells of a few canines in here, though Axi was too tired to so much as peer around the room. She was aware of being placed on something relatively warm, with some kind of meat, cold and days old, was pushed toward her. She ate this quickly, and almost immediately went to sleep afterward.

“No understand,” she responded at first, though this time it was not a matter of failing to understand the words. Axi found the hybrid's voice more intelligible now, though the accent was still completely foreign to the hybrid. When the words came again, sharper, she flinched visibly, though her eyes followed the sable stranger's hand to her face, watching the fingers tap against her nose. Axi's own hand rose to her muzzle, red-orange eyes growing wide as her fingertips brushed the cold metal embedded into her face. When they did, the stranger nodded, and said a single word that simply deflated the woman. Her head snapped back to the ground and she sat up, pulling herself into something of a ball, her knees pressed against her chest.

“Three goats an' wan horse,” she squeaked, barely able to project her voice. What sorcery was this that a canine speaking a foreign tongue with a completely foreign accent would recognize what she was, what her ring meant? There was a vague sense of disappointment within the woman, and her ears folded back, her muzzle, dipping low to the ground. No trade had occurred to pass her from one hand to the other, but it was clear as day nonetheless who she would now belong to. Whether or not she would remain with this woman or find herself traded away was a question still, of course.

She had traveled more distance than she could accurately put to words, and still here was a canine who recognized the ring, who knew the name of the place where she had earned it. It was perhaps the only thing Axi considered herself worthy of -- her title as a slave. It was her purpose, what she had been raised to believe -- there was a strange sense of relief now as she gazed upon the other canine's feet. Momoztli did not generally interfere in the affairs of mortals, or so they believed, but some facet of the spiritual world had conspired to bring her here. It could not be simple chance, luck, or coincidence -- there was no way. There were more words, rapid-firing at her, and she boggled quietly at them, unresponsive. No question had been asked, and no information had been presented to her -- she had lived under the rule of another long enough to recognize when someone spoke at her rather than to her. The next words, however, were more clear, and the hybrid woman could only nod at this. She understood -- she understood perfectly well.