Now you should know that out there in the shimmering heat and the shifting sands of Arakrand there are certain sheperds such as my self, lean and hardened crossbreeds who hail from a long line of distinguished wolves and coyotes. We herd our sheep in the shadows of snow capped peaks and the howling twisting of desert tornadoes. We keep to ourselves and hunt green grass, follow the rain.
All that changed for me, when I stumbled upon the bottle. It was green and dusty and half buried in the dirt, the relentless sun loaning it an emerald glint. I pryed it lose from the earth with a dirty paw and held it up, beheld it framed against a cloudless blue sky. Seemingly empty, yet something inside whispered that it was full of promise.
A hot wind found its way beneath my cowl and my mouth went dry. I licked my black lips and bared my fangs as my sheep bleated. What had I found?
It was then that the voice entered my head, a searing spear that was both migraine and bliss, and I would be lying if I said those two things when taken together weren't a paradisal kiss.
"Open me," the bottle commanded, demanded. "Two wishes, just for you!"
For a long time I just stood there, holding it, my robes aswirl and aflap and the sun blazing down hot and relentless. Sand and grit stung my narrowed eyes and I was vaguely aware of my herd moving on, the plaintive bleat of my thirsty camel, the quickened beat of my heart.
"Well? What are you waiting for?"