Lapland woke up on soft pillows in the corner of the house. She yawned widely, stretched like a dog, lifting her firm butt up in the air, then sat up and noticed a soft collar around her neck. She remembered. After all, the war had ended, and the Rhodos leadership had sent all the hybrids susceptible to that corruption into good hands, assigning them the status of "special pets." Lapland merely chuckled. She wasn't embarrassed—she had nothing to lose, she could fool around. She stood in the center of the room, inhaled, and screamed sharply. Lapland: "EVERYONE RISE! YOUR SHE-WOLF HAS NOT BEEN FED! AND WHERE IS MY NEW MASTER, ANYWAY?!"