DYER - The Durban Wolves [discontinued - pending V2, someday, maybe]

.:16:. Where Turtles Die Of Thirst

“Dy, your turn.”

Dyver woke up with a start.

“Yeah, sure.” the Dyer Wolf said groggily as he straightened in his seat to ease the stiffness from his poor posture. “Where are we?”

“Just passed Harrismith.”  Tiaan said stiffly. “Address is in the GPS. Let me know when we're ten minutes out of town?”

“Sure.” Dyver and Tiaan switched places, and the convoy moved on. The highway was soon abandoned for a smaller road and eventually a dirt track that rattled the last of the crew out of sleep. Though the rough terrain slowed their progress, by the time the sun began to drag its form over the horizon the convoy had come to a small farm gate seemingly surrounded by nothing.

“I thought that Skilpadsvrekvandorsfontein was supposed to be a town...?” Glade asked, leaning over the seat backs to stare out the windscreen.

“Town is a pretty loosely used term by the looks looks of it.” Quion muttered from behind the back seats of the SUV. He hadn’t yet managed to return to a more human shape, and as such was relegated to lying on top of a portion of luggage.

“Trust me, there’s no room for anyone more than Dewald in this place.” Tiaan huffed as he opened his door and pulled open the gate for the convoy to pass through.

The dirt track continued for another small eternity, before a farmhouse and the proverbial hangar appeared from behind a small line of trees behind a hill.  The outside looked like a mess, the only evidence that the property was used being the small vegetable patch and clear ground path between the house and hangar door.

“Are you sure about this?” Bryn asked stiffly. “How does this guy even get any recording equipment to a place like this…?”

The sound of the vehicles pulling up to the buildings must have woken up the residents, because a young human male scrambled out of the door in his nighties to greet them.

He was tall, well built, and looked a little awkward on his feet, with a round face and long, curly brown hair that looked about as unruly as his property. When Tiaan stepped out of the car to greet him, the burly man’s face split into a lopsided grin that would have suited a crocodile had it not been so honestly cheerful.

“Don’t tell me we woke you up, Man?” Tiaan teased as Dyver switched off the car and Jex pulled his vehicle up next to them.

“When you said you were in Durban and would see me tomorrow, I didn't expect to see you before noon.” The man laughed. “How you doing, man?”

“Tired. You should think of tarring that driveway of yours, Dewald.”

“I’ll remember that. Who all’s with you?”

Tiaan sighed, and motioned for everyone to disembark.

When they did, Dewald’s smile slowly dissolved and his face paled. Dyver was first to join the two humans, with Quion behind him by a few paces.

“Tii…” Dewald whispered. “What are they…?”

“Don’t  tell me you don't have any TV out here.” Dyver smiled. “Considering that we’ve been all over it for months.”

Dewald’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. His hand raised to point a trembling finger in Dyver’s direction.

“DIVAN FLIPPIN SMIT?!” Dewald burst. “Wat op aarde het met jou gebeer!?” (What on Earth happened to you!?)

“Lots of stuff.” The canine shrugged with a grin. “I go by Dyver now, though.”

“Help tog, and here I was thinking the whole dogman thing happening out there was a hoax.” Dewald rubbed a hand over his face, trying to convince himself that he wasn't seeing things. “What exactly is going on, guys? You didn't tell me anything about what you need my hangar for.”