Whizzing was heard as a small plane with fire painted on it plumeted downwards at the island. The driver couldn't get reception on his radio, so he had no way of alerting anyone of his location. With a loud crushing and booming sound, the plane crashed. Coughing from the smoke, a strange looking Wallaby emerged from the wreckage. His name was Mark, and he had injured his arm. Applying pressure to the wound, he struggled and stood, backing away from the plane. He landed, or rather crashed, on the beach. His feetpaws sunk into the damp, soft sand. He saw a kennel, and in confusion said, "A kennel on an abandoned island?" He continued, "What is this? The bermuda triangle?"