Dyson woke up with damp sand in his mouth. After spitting it out, he opened his eyes to find… nothing. There was sand, water, shells, and more nothing in the surrounding area. His clothes, crusty and damp, clung to his body as he stood up to get his bearings.

The last thing he remembered was the lookout announcing land. Dyson had left his cabin still with his sleeping garb to see the new world he and his fellow passengers were about to explore and colonize. But just as he approached the side of the vessel, a sudden and loud crash rocked the ship, and Dyson, and several others nearby, were thrown overboard.

He looked about and saw someone else nearby, still on his back, similarly damp and sandy. He was a larger man with darker complexion, obviously more familiar in the fields or workshops than in the offices and laboratories that Dyson frequented.

Stirring the man awake, Dyson helped him to his feet. This was Xander, standing half a foot above the more average and portly Dyson. Searching about, Dyson secured himself a decently weighted large stick as a club.

A mile south, they spied what seemed like a large section of their ship. Making way toward it, they found a section of the upper deck of the aft of the ship. Xander reasoned that the ship had run aground on a coral reef at high speed, foundering the ship.

Not seeing any other wreckage, property, or personnel nearby they searched the wreckage. Xander removed a section of the deck and fashioned himself a long spear, forming a point at one end from where it had been snapped in half. Dyson found a barrel of potable water, a small chest of women’s clothing, and Xander found a large shipping container. Using a wooden wedge and his club, Dyson opened the crate to discover a cache of heavy woolen cloth. Originally intended for textiles and construction, it was now made useful as materials for a sturdy lean-to with a closed-off flap as a wall. Secured against the side of the shipwreck with rope, they had gained shelter.

They agreed they needed more things to survive more than a night, most immediately, fuel for a fire, a hearth to house it, and food. They furnished their cloth into a dragged satchel to bring supplies back to camp, then set off to the northwest from their camp into the forest inland.

Within the forest, they first found a bush with berries which Dyson was able to identify as sweet berries for them to eat. Filling their pockets and throwing some handfuls into their tarp, they turned west. There, they encountered a small goblin who struck both of them as a fat and lazy creature who was obviously not taking care of his business. They both agreed that he had to go, so with a swing from Dyson’s club and a well-placed chest stab from Xander’s spear, the frustratingly unfocused and inconsiderate creature fell. On his person was a flint spearhead, which Xander appended to his spear with rope.

Cutting back to the southeast, the pair happened on a clearing, occupied by a lone coyote. Baring its teeth, it snapped in Xander’s direction. Xander replied in kind, with his spearhead missing its mark. Dyson attacked it, knocking it on its head. Now seeing the portly club-weilder as the greater threat, the beast bit down on his arm, with Dyson screaming in stinging pain. Xander jabbed near the animal’s body, with the coyote snapping near Dyson. Dyson, in his new-found rage, smashed the ground next to the beast. Xander then hurled his spear through the air, with the point driving into the attacker’s neck. With blood spraying the surrounding ground, the animal tried to flee, only to be hurled head-over-paws by an upward swing of Dyson’s club.

Taking a few moments to regain his senses, Dyson was the first to notice that the silence of the clearing was broken by a soft mewling. After clearing some stones, Xander discovered a small litter of baby coyotes. After some consideration, both agreed to take the pups with them. Having collected wood, kindling, and stones for camp, they turned east to return home.

Having filled themselves on coyote meat and berries, and having protected and cared for their new pets for at least the first evening, Dyson woke to a disturbance outside their tent. Waking Xander, but leaving his club in his cot, Dyson looked outside to find a cat-like person wearing paint on the fur of his face, a necklace with beads and wood tiles, an animal-skin loin cloth secured with rope, and a decorative pauldron made of leaves.

Dyson bounded from his tent and challenged the intruder. The savage replied with a stone dagger in an equal challenging posture. Dyson charged the man, but could not get a firm grasp on him. Xander stabbed at him to narrowly miss. After futily swishing the space around Dyson, the intruder successfully slashed a deep cut into Dyson’s arm while Dyson again attempted to tackle the feloid man. Seeing an opening, Xander then jabbed his speartip into the visitor’s arm. Using his remaining strong arm, the attacker drew a second knife and held it menacingly against the two defenders.

Now similarly wounded, Dyson held up his good arm to attempt to stop the fight. Seeing Xander relax his posture slightly, the guest took a moment to consider the situation. He then fled to the northwest, with Xander and Dyson remaining in their camp watching him beat sand into the treeline and out of sight.