Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spyro

Cold, hard rock is pressing into his face as he starts opening his eyes.

Spyro...

His unfocused eyes struggle to make out any details in the rather dark room, so he lifts his head to look around-

“Spyro! Spyro, wake up!”

Several blurs in front of him coalesce into Cynder, the dragon’s black form standing in front of him, looking down with an uncharacteristic fright in her eyes.

“My shackles are back! How is… how are they back?!”

She extends a foreleg in his direction with a spiked, silver colored bracelet. The sharp spikes line her skin tightly, and as he looks at her more thoroughly, he sees that the ones on her neck and tail are back as well.

He struggles to his feet and goes to get a closer look. He opens his mouth but is interrupted by light flooding his eyes. 

“Ignitus! Is that you?” He calls out, knowing it isn’t.

They look around the cavern, finding themselves standing on a small platform on a large, central pillar. The sources of light illuminating their platform are sconces, which reveal orange figures amassing on balconies along the walls of the cave.

“How convenient that would be,” sighs Cynder.

The bug-like creatures are growing restless, and upon inspecting longer, each of them seem to be holstering a weapon.  Crude in design, barely more than wood and metal stuck together, but it does the job by the looks of it.

“I’m not sure what they want, but I don’t think they have our best interest in mind,” says Cynder as she’s examining the warriors.

“Agreed, let’s leave!” he urges as he spreads his wings, pausing for a moment for Cynder to do the same. She jumps and begins flapping, Spyro just behind her, before they both get forcefully yanked back by the neck towards the center of their platform. Around their necks collars appear for just a moment, before fading into invisibility again.

“This can’t be good.” Spyro thinks aloud.

Cynder opens her mouth to retort, but is startled by a deep grumbling and a stream of hot air hitting them. She whips around to face its source, finding flames around them moving, coming alive in front of their eyes. Her brows furrow as she steps to the edge to get a closer look.

On the balcony in front of them he spots a larger creature, wielding a spiked club, most likely the commander of whoever, whatever these are. The details of its body are difficult to make out from a distance, but it seems to be made out of rock or wood… or bones. From the first look, it’s obvious that its horns are uneven, but as he's approaching the edge as well it's quickly becoming apparent that the rest of its body isn’t symmetrical in its proportions either.

What on earth is that?

He's snapped out of thought by a second, larger gust. He quickly puts a wing in front of Cynder, the other shielding his own face.

As the stream subsides she rolls her eyes at him: “Was that necessary?”

He goes to defend his case, but yet another, smaller stream hits them, and the platform shakes as a gigantic hand grabs the side of it with a loud boom. He looks back to what he inferred was the commander, but sees that it’s left its position by now. 

Spyro quickly gets back from the edge, right as an ape-like creature of rock and lava emerges from the flames. Oppressive heat is radiating from its body, and flowing magma covers its chest and shoulder. Or, rather, that might be its chest and shoulder. Spikes line its back, hard to discern what purpose they serve. Its eyes are glowing with orange lava, seemingly so big that they could both fit in just one of them! It opens its mouth and lets out a piercing roar, making the whole cavern shake as it spots them. 

Spyro’s eyes go wide as its free hand is already winding up for a smack, trying to anticipate where it will hit and which way he should dodge. He quickly looks around for Cynder, who’s already hacking and slashing away at its arm grasping the platform. He looks back up, remembering the very imminent danger coming his way, and rolls out of the way just in time, avoiding what would certainly have put him 6 feet below. The shockwave from the hit sends him flying further, and he almost falls off the platform. If it wasn’t for the chain stopping him from tumbling, he’d quickly have turned into charred dragon meat. 

~~~

It doesn’t feel like she’s attacking the hand of a creature, more like she’s clawing away at bedrock. It doesn't help that its skin, if you can call it that, is beyond hot to the touch, so much so that her claws are starting to overheat. That is until she spots it: a tiny black crystal sticking out of its hand. She doesn’t know how she knows, she just does. She jumps up, then flaps her wings to dive down hard on it. She flips around and her tail extends as she’s about to make contact, cracking the crystal with her attack. The hand jerks away from under her with unmatched force and she’s sent flying from the hit, her side feeling like she got tossed around in a skillet. The creature loses balance for a moment before it starts hanging on with its other arm. 

~~~

“This thing is way too big! We can’t fight it!” Spyro exclaims but a moment before a faint twang is heard and from one of the onlooking balconies a sharp projectile flies straight into its eye. The creature screams and thrashes, clutching at its face, before falling down back into the fire, almost taking the whole pillar with it. They don’t hear the massive thump that they’re anticipating they should, which is rather concerning.

They look at the source of the projectile, and spot a cloaked figure making a “come here” gesture then retreating into the darkness.

“Quick, before it’s back!” calls out Cynder as she’s pulling her neck away from the ground with all her might. He quickly rushes to do the same, until whatever was tethering them snaps and they’re free to fly. He looks at her expectantly, then motions towards the balcony of the figure with his nose. She sighs, then nods, spreading her wings before they take off towards their saviour.

They make their landing, though Spyro only heard his own paws hitting the ground. He turns back around, but Cynder did indeed follow behind.

“Spyro, Cynder. How do you feel? Anything broken?” asks the figure, pulling down his hood to reveal the bright yellow face of a cheetah. He gets down on one knee to be roughly eye level with them, though he’s still a touch taller.

“Just shaken, but not too badly. Thanks to you.” Spyro thanks him.

“I am relieved. I feared I might not make it here in time. My name is Hunter.” he reveals.

“Hunter… You’re the one that sent me that letter on the pirate ship!” he turns to Cynder to elaborate: “He’s helped me before, he’s a friend.” she assures him. As he does, she stops eyeing him up.

“I’ve been tracking you far too long, friend.” He says as he stands back up. “When you didn’t return to the dragon temple, the elder dragon, Ignitus, sent me to find you. Forgive me for the brevity of my explanation, but we must move.” he says before whipping around, about to leave, when a booming thump is finally heard.

Ancestors, that thing was still falling the entire time?

“The grublins have dispersed. We’ll almost definitely run into some on our way out.” Hunter states as they depart for the tunnel. 

“Is that what those orange ones are called? Grublins?” he asks.

“They don’t seem terribly dangerous.” inserts Cynder.

“They’re not good combatants, but there’s always a lot of them. If you don’t let them surround you they’re not much of a threat. Still, better to never underestimate a foe.” Hunter elaborates as they’re met by a large chasm. Shadows loom below, the only thing they can see are pillars of what used to be a bridge sticking out from them.

Numerous thumps overlap each other, getting louder by the second.

“It’s getting closer.” observes Hunter. 

It survived that?

Hunter begins jumping across the chasm with a renewed urgency from pillar to pillar. Cheetah bodies are surprisingly light for their size, and this one’s even more nimble than they typically are. His motions seem calm despite the fact that, for him, a slip would spell certain death, far beyond practiced, even.

Spyro jumps and hurriedly begins flapping his wings. Yet again he heard nothing of the like from behind him, but when he turns around, there she is again, silently flying behind him.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now…

Somewhere far down a faint light is getting brighter. He does not dare look down, as if burying his head in sand would make the monster go away. As they’re about to make it to the doorway at the end of the chasm, the gigantic hand shoots up again and grasps the pillar they’re flying over. If his heart wasn't beating fast before, it sure is now. The creature is pulling itself up from the chasm, illuminating its walls as it goes. They hurriedly flap their wings in fright and dive through the doorway, hearing a loud crashing sound behind them, and seeing fingers sticking through, just barely out of its reach. The radiating heat astonishes him for a moment, before a deep crack is heard and the fingers retract as the creature falls down yet again, this time from the thin pillar giving out.

They collectively breathe a sigh of relief, before turning their attention to what’s on the other side of the doorway: a large, green crystal, emitting a faint glow and an even fainter hum. This was exactly what they needed to grant themselves a fighting chance! They quickly make their way to it.

“It is fascinating how dragons can draw strength from these crystals. I do believe this is one of the kind you can utilize.” Hunter hopes.

“It is. Give us a moment, please.” Spyro requests, turning to the crystal in question. He’s about to put a paw on it to absorb its mana, when he spots Cynder from the corner of his eye staring longingly, unmoving. “Cynder?”

She finally permits herself to breathe, before turning to Spyro. "I don’t know Spyro. Can I really...”

...do what?

"...be trusted with any sort of power like this again?"

Oh.

His brain short circuits at the question. Can she? She can. Does she not think that? That is-

“We are aware of your past. And maybe you can't. But right now, our survival is what matters.” dictates Hunter.

“Go on, Cynder.” Spyro says, as if she was waiting for permission, before he touches the crystal. With a face of discontent she joins him, and the light emanating from the crystal grows weaker and weaker before it quickly disappears, its power now sitting in the dragons’ bodies, waiting to be unleashed. 

Cynder sighs to herself, staring at the ground. 

Suddenly, footsteps are heard close by, as vines in front of them are cut down and a few grublins jump through the opening, letting out all sorts of noises and battle cries.

“They’ve found us!” exclaims hunter before jumping out of their way, seeking higher ground to fire away uncontested.

Upon a closer look, these creatures don't resemble anything else they've seen before. They are bipedal, but their proportions are lanky, their arms are way too long and reach to the floor. Their fur is orange, but their body seems broken in some parts, as if pieces of them were missing, or decaying. Only now is it also obvious that they're not even holding weapons, one of their hands ends in a weapon! 

What in the Ancestors’ names are these?

Cynder summons a gust of wind and opens her wings to ride it, jumping into action before any of the others can blink. Less than a moment passes as she gets on top of one of them, lashing with her tail, its flesh giving way to sharp bone without slowing her down. The grublin falls on its back under her weight, then curls up around its stomach wound. She’s already leaping to the next target as blood starts pooling around its neck as well. The grublin lays lifelessly as gore is flowing slowly out of its body.

Spyro barely has time to move before another opening is made to the room and more grublins begin flooding them. He takes off flying and shoots a stream of ice low to freeze the incoming assailants’ legs, rooting them to the ground. He closes his wings, curls up into a ball, calls on his earth element, and smashes into the ground with the weight of a boulder. A piece of the tiling chips away, and he quickly lifts it to mash it into the hole to patch it up. Only one of the attackers made it through, and he pauses to see what it will do. It charges at him, readying its axe-like appendage, only to be cut short by him channeling a chain of lightning at it. Its whole body seizes up for a few moments, before it falls flat on its face, shaking still, but unmoving otherwise. He stops, and stares at it for what feels like forever, expecting, no, hoping for it to twitch, or groan, something to indicate it’s alive. No such thing happens. 

Even that is too much?  

And then the smell hits him: roughly what one could expect from burning meat that's been rotting for days. His face scrunches up in disgust, and he's getting a touch dizzy until he remembers that there was another opening! He whips around to help Cynder out and- 

Silence. Several bodies are littered around the chamber, a few with arrows sticking out of their soft spots. He looks to the left, the opening he closed. He looks to the right, only the chasm. Where’s… He looks back, straight ahead, and Cynder’s right there. Was she even there a moment ago?

She’s standing amongst what can only be described as piles of corpses, unmoving. Most left their now glassy eyes open in their final moments, never to be closed again. If she’s even breathing, maybe not, he can’t tell. Spurts of blood spot her body, and more is dripping from the end of her tail.

It is almost certain none of the blood on her is her own.

Hunter lands next to him with a faint thump, and looks at him expectantly. He gives a look back, outwardly blank, but a whirlwind rages inside him.

Help. I need to- does she even want help? It seems like she might be waiting for me to speak. Or... no, definitely not for Hunter to say something again.

He waits for a few seconds for the lump in his throat to pass.

What do I even say? Tell her that this was just self defense?

It wouldn't hurt for him to hear that either right now. But the silence is getting long, say something! Anything!

“Cynder?” he begins gently.

“Let’s keep going!” she commands before smacking her tail against the ground with a metallic sound, getting most of the flowing blood off of it. 

Wait, metallic?

Hunter nods and wastes no time taking the lead by running forward, bow in hand and arrow loaded, to scout ahead. Cynder quickly follows, and after a few moments Spyro sighs in concern and goes as well.

He’s met by the two of them staring at the vast cavern in the distance. He admires the scenery for a moment, even amidst all this danger. The purple floating lights (whatever those may be), the gigantic stalagmites and stalactites, the small waterfall flowing and refracting light from glowing mushrooms in a chaotic dance of color. Finally, he spots it.

“There’s a light up there! We must be getting close.” he points out, looking towards an opening. They look up to where the dragon is peering, and after getting one last look at the cavern Hunter instructs the group to go.

Spyro takes off first this time, flying up forward to see what's ahead. As they get closer, it starts getting warmer and Spyro notices steam rising up nearby. He gasps as he realises just in time what’s happening as a mass of rock several times his own size barrels towards them. He directs himself down with his wings, startling Cynder by tackling her out of the way of the obliterating punch aimed at her, which strikes the waterfall with a loud boom. They land on the ground with a grunt but shake it off quickly, and after she looks around they take flight again to put some distance between them and it. The creature lets out a deafening roar towards them: it's winding up again!

They turn around, bracing for the attack, but its hand is stuck in the waterfall, immediately evaporating every drop pouring on it. It puts another hand against the wall to get itself free, and tugs against it with all its might. After a few seconds of it trying to free itself, it gives one last push and suddenly its arm lets out a loud crack! Before he even realizes what that was, its arm breaks off at the elbow, its hand still stuck in the wall! It lets out a loud bellow of pain and looks at the scene in horror. It ducks quickly to retreat back into the cavern.

They wait in anticipation, staring intently at the cave. Despite all expectations to the contrary, it seems to have left. 

“That hurt even just to watch.” he breaks the silence.

As the two fly over the arm, Cynder spots something on it. She flies closer to inspect it, and starts breathing harder concerningly fast. “What is this?” she asks nobody in particular. The flutter of her wings is noticeably disorganised. He swings around to get a look. She’s staring at a black crystal twice her size, though he’s far enough away from it to be unaffected by whatever it’s doing.

“It’s not natural.” Hunter shouts towards her. “Destroy it, quickly!”

She goes to strike at it, but her movements are insufficiently slow, and though her hit connects it isn’t enough to crack the gem. She starts losing altitude. He swoops down to her, but has no idea how to actually help so he just hovers around as she slowly sinks towards the ground. She lands yet again without making much of a sound, Spyro beside her.

Hunter, noticing that the arm has cooled off from the water, jumps on it and whacks away at the crystal until a part of it breaks off, the whole thing cracking and shattering into a million little pieces. 

A strong burst of mana washes over him, though Spyro’s almost topped up to begin with. Cynder simply says “Hm.”, her determination back, before she spreads her wings and they take off again towards the light.

Through a few more tunnels they go, mostly decorated by etched tiling and lit up by torches. The overgrown vines make it clear that these tunnels were carved out long ago, and by feel he’d say they’ve definitely been traveling longer than the full width of the Well of Souls. Finally, they’re standing on an exposed platform open to the cavern and met by a large door. 

Spyro pauses for a moment, prompting the other 2 to do the same. There's a question that's been eating away at him, and though it hasn't been long since they've woken up, he can't take it anymore.

“Hunter, how long has it been? Since we disappeared, I mean. It’s clear it’s been at least a while…” Spyro says regretfully.

“I chose not to drop this troubling information on you yet, but if you wish to know I will not lie to you.” He pauses in case Spyro reconsiders. "It has been just under 3 years.” 

He feels like fate itself just smacked him in the face with a rolled up newspaper.

“3 years?! But… how can that be?” he asks.

“I know the news is shocking to you, hence I would’ve chosen not to inform you yet. I do not understand how your powers work, but what I told is the truth.” Hunter answers.

3 years. Ancestors, we must’ve missed a lot.

Cynder looks at him with… something in her eyes. Concern, perhaps. Horror, maybe. For now though, they have no time to dwell on such things. Cynder looks at the door, directing his gaze to it as well. He sighs and looks at Hunter, who simply nods, and they attempt to push the door open. After a few seconds of trying and failing to make it even budge, Hunter stops pushing to look around.

“The horn.” They stop straining as he points to what they’d been assuming is just there as decoration so far: a brazen horn in the center of the platform winding like a snake, its end taking the shape of the head of a dragon with its mouth open, pointing towards the door.  “It must be part of some sort of locking mechanism.”

Spyro steps up to it and attempts to blow into it. A faint noise comes out the other side, but nothing happens as he tries to push more air out than his lungs can take in.

“Let me try.” asks Cynder. He moves aside to give her access. She steps up and takes a large breath in, powering it with her element of wind, and blows into it like there’s no tomorrow. The expected, loud horn sound echoes across the cave. When she stops, something in the door makes a satisfying click. She side eyes Spyro, smirking proudly. 

He smiles back at her, then turns towards the door. As they’re about to approach it, once more the gigantic creature emerges with a loud yell, its palm barreling towards Cynder again.

Spyro quickly leaps towards her to push her with himself out of the way, again, but as he’s halfway through his leap she rolls out of the way of its hand. It's also quickly becoming evident that he underestimated the speed of its hand by a lot…

Shit

He quickly calls on his earth element again, shielding himself from certain doom via a cage of rocks. The impact travels through the rock and cracks the ground below.

Thank the Ancestors it wasn't strong enough to-

It grabs Spyro and attempts to pull him towards its mouth as the life is being boiled out of him by its heat! He starts chewing through his mana reserves to cool himself down with ice, and before he gets swallowed by the creature something starts tugging on his neck hard. It is his collar, binding them together. As he looks in the direction of the tug, he sees Cynder, rooted to the ground by the legs by what look like tendrils of pure darkness. Her eyes are locked on him, and she does not look happy.

Spots of the rock around him start heating up all the way through, he's trying his best to shift around them as he is rapidly running out of safe spots, but he can feel it, the creature’s arm is growing tired.

Drop me already!

Finally its hand flops onto the platform, ending the tug of war over his life. It opens its hand and lets out a large breath of fire on it. Spyro jumps at the opportunity to stop channeling his mana, breaking his shell of rock, and hurls himself out of the way. 

He's never seen fire of this volume before. The heat is overwhelming, yet compared to those stemming from him and Ignitus it feels unrefined. Empty. Lifeless, somehow.

“Quick!” Shouts Hunter, who has managed to pry the door open. The three take off through the narrow tunnel, the creature trying one last time by reaching after them through it, almost but not quite grabbing them. Its hand thrashes around, collapsing the way behind them as they keep flying forward.

Finally, once all 3 feel like they’re far enough away, they slow down and eventually stop.

“What was that thing?” asks Spyro amidst exhausted breaths. 

“Malefor’s ace in the hole.” says Cynder as she narrows her eyes, staring in front of herself.

“It’s one of what are called the Golems of the Deep. The dark lord resurrected it using who-knows-what kind of magic. It will likely be his ultimate combat force once unleashed. Here, we had every advantage we could get against it: a tight space in a place it doesn't want to destroy with nothing flammable around. Were it not for that, it is impossible to state for certain that we’d still be here.” explained Hunter.

Spyro shudders at the idea of such a weapon being used on the world. He looks at Cynder, whose face shows nothing but pure hatred, still staring at the ground, lost in thought.

“We'll follow the river. It’ll lead us to shelter where we can spend the night. Then we’re off to Ignitus. He’s expecting us at Warfang, the dragon city.” Hunter goes on, before turning to leave.

The two dragons give each other one more look, then get after him. 

Chapter Text

Finally, a breeze smelling like wet grass hits her. The tunnel stretched on forever, but eventually the tiling ran out, replaced by rocks, dirt and roots. Somewhere along the way a stream of water also emerged running down the middle of the path, slowly outcompeting the walkable way, as if struggling against it, until all at once the footing surrendered, giving way to the river proper.

Hunter was forced to parkour along rocks and indentations on the wall, but if he minded, he voiced no complaints. Her and Spyro simply took to the air, and they shortly reached the end of the tunnel.

 As the rays of moonlight hit her face for the first time, Spyro takes a deep breath. “Cynder, I-”

“Quiet! They might be after us.” she interrupts.

Greeting her is a cliffside view of a vast forest, the river cutting through the middle. It’s night time, but the dual moons floating overhead illuminate everything sufficiently. The flowing water drowns out every other sound as they make their way down. As she lands and wets her feet in the grass she looks behind her, to Spyro.

He stops in his tracks and tilts his head to the side, approaching her.

“Could we stop here? For just a few minutes” she asks, motioning to a shallow part in the river. 

“Y- yeah, sure. I’ll… I’ll just, uhm…” he begins, pausing to turn to the stranger: “Hunter! We can stop for a few minutes for her, right? She needs to…” his voice dies off.

“We may, but be done fast” Hunter instructs before turning around to look out for anybody who may be approaching them. Spyro takes his cue to do the same, leaving her alone with the river.

She approaches and dips a paw in. The rushing water cools it off fast, not quite uncomfortably. She takes a step in, slowly to make sure the rocks aren’t slippery, then more until she’s up to her knees.

She sits down and rubs her front paws together, perhaps the messiest part of her.

The first thing she tends to is the pain in her side, nagging at her for attention. They will need either ranged weapons or heat resistant armor by the time they are to take on that thing. 

Is Spyro heat resistant? Could he learn to be?

Probably...

Could she?

She closes her eyes in anticipation, then scoops as much water as she can with a paw to her wounds. She winces, then breathes out slowly as it dribbles over the open blisters. She goes for a second scoop, only for further pain to shoot up her side. 

Let’s just get it done with...

She submerges her body in the water. Her throat strains to suppress a yell, the pain now somehow worse than when she actually got the injury. She grits her teeth and manages not to make a sound. After the initial wave is over, the cool water finally soothes her. 

She runs a paw over the bumps of dull ache in her side, one by one gently pressing the sharp end of a claw through the soft tissue. The sacks of fluid empty into the river without agitating her any further.

It'll have to do.

Now that that’s dealt with, she can turn her attention to less immediately demanding matters than taking care of wounds. Her tail curls around her, as much as it can with the spiky metal restricting her movement anyway. She averts her eyes, readying herself for the sight. When her gaze wanders back down, she sees that the flowing water alone has not done the job.

Its end is still red and black.

This is the price of you staying alive.

She reaches out to grab it. The blood has dried onto it.

How many?

She scrubs away at it with her paw until the metal shines through. Too much still remains.

You've lost count of them.

Stop...

She presses her knuckles into the tougher spots. Her face finally eases as the river drags away the dried blood, leaving it almost clean. Her tail blade has a few scratches, ones she’s intimately familiar with by now, but her paw is not sufficient to clean those.

How many more until they see you for what you are?

She inserts a claw into one of the dips. It must seem poetic, having to resort to the other weapons of her body. Metal scrapes against metal, reverberating through her digits.

Eventually he will, too.

Stop! Just stop thinking! There's no time for this now.

It finally looks clean. A few passes of her paw over her legs are enough to get the remaining spots off of them. She unfortunately cannot look at her neck, back or face, and the water’s nowhere near still enough to use as a mirror. Still, she can make out the form of a dragon, sleek and towering, shifting around wildly. Its black body is spotted with blood.

Murderer

She takes a breath and dips her face in to clean it.

Don't think, just keep going!

She loses track of time, her forelegs getting exhausted as they’re straining against her self. Don't think! As she stops she realises her lungs are screaming at her for air. She jerks her head out and gasps, water rushing down her face.

Not enough

She takes a deeper breath and dips below the water again, going back to scrubbing. The pain in her lungs flares up once more as she tries to drown it out with the sensations on her face. Murderer! Her forelegs are cramping as she keeps going, and she can’t help but turn them back around, bottom side to her face, to give the exhausted muscles a break. Her face starts hurting from the friction, NOT ENOUGH, only stopping when the pain of suffocation overwhelms her: she breathes in reflexively, inhaling a lungful of water. She yanks her head out and coughs wetly, her body begging her for mercy.

Heavy thumps land on her back, forcing the water out.

After air returns to her lungs, and blood to her brain, she feels a warmth on her paw, finding Spyro’s paw on hers. He's sat in the cold water besides her, looking at her with concern. His gaze makes her freeze up.

“Cynder, what happened?” he asks.

She stares at him for a moment.

How?

“Nothing. Just a cough. We can keep moving.” she tries to assure him, unsuccessfully, already almost halfway out the river. 

“Cynder, you’re bleeding…"

Oh. That's how. Should’ve known: she scratched herself. She pauses her departure.

Slowly he approaches her, hesitantly stepping in her field of view. 

Her eyes wander away from his as she sighs in anger.

"Cynder, please-"

“Where?” she asks, defeated.

He raises his paw, gently pressing a knuckle against her forehead. “Right below here.” he states, his voice almost a whisper.

She tries to dry her paw before pressing it against the wound. She cannot make eye contact with Spyro, and has already given up trying. 

“Always a struggle to get it off.” states Hunter flatly.

From the corner of her eye she spots Spyro glaring at him before she shuts her eyes tight. She feels him move, but he says nothing.

“Apologies. I see our cultures must treat this topic differently.” he adds with the same tone.

She opens her eyes and sighs. “I’m done. Thank you. Let’s keep going.” She removes her palm, hoping the bleeding has subsided, eyes still glued anywhere other than Spyro. She gets out of the water with a slumped head.

Hunter leads them down the river, assuring them that the spot he knows is not far. As she looks to her side, though, she sees something moving around in the darkness, rustling leaves.

“Cynder,” Spyro begins, gentler than she'd argue is correct for the situation.

“I saw it too. I’m low on mana, we might have to-”

“What?” He looks at her confused, then peers to the forest, his eyes darting around.

Ah. She sighs and slumps her head, having to shut him down again. “Let’s get to the spot Hunter knows first, in one piece. Then it can be feelings time.”

Spyro snorts, finding her phrasing way more entertaining than he should. “If you insist.”

“I was serious though. Something moved when I looked its way. I’m not sure what by, but we’re being stalked.” 

Hunter stops moving, bow already in hand, and peers around while drawing. His head sticks towards a certain direction, and he whips his body around, his aim flicking over to match his sight instantly. “Winged ones!” he exclaims as he releases his arrow with a twang. Something drops to the ground gurgling and twitching.

Several buzzing sounds commence as the creatures careen towards them with frankly disappointing speed and disorganization. Their bulging, bug-like eyes are a huge and easily targetable weak point, and with the bright orange fur on their backs it’s a wonder they’ve managed to go unspotted so far. Do they even have a leader with them? These also wield something that technically qualifies as a weapon: they are all armed with clubs of wood. Weapons don’t get any more primitive than…

Wait there’s starting to be a lot of them. 6, 8, 11, 13…

She quickly loses count as they keep pouring out from between the thick line of woods. There is no way they have enough anything to take this fight right now, no matter how easy these ones seem. 

She lowers her body towards the ground to wind up to jump, ready to take off, before reality hits her: Hunter can’t fly! Their usual ticket to safety is currently unavailable, if he is to survive as well. 

Luckily, she still has mana left, as well as a trick up her sleeve. The most powerful of her elements: Fear. There are combatants that can fight through it, but there is nobody alive who is unaffected by fear. At the least, some become hesitant, some reckless. Some…

One of them flies at her and tries to hit her in the head. She weaves around the attack and throws her wing blades towards its eyes. As she feels a wet squelch she retracts her weapons before spitting poison towards the victim. It drops its club as it clutches at its eyes, robbed of its sight. She bites the scruff of its neck to toss it in the air before jumping up and kicking it towards the rest.

Good enough. 

She reaches into her almost empty reserve of mana, and as the buzzing in her head kicks in the attackers stop dead in their tracks, staring in horror at the sight of their wounded comrade. Her vision begins clouding as she loses grip on her balance. She drops her weight lower and raises her tail higher, like a predator ready to pounce. She takes a menacing step towards them, then a second one as their resolve falters.

There!

She spots it: one of them flinched. Before she can even think, she lurches at the weakling, ready to tear flesh from bone, and it turns around to fly off like a coward. The others also betray their wounded kin by splitting up and fleeing every which way they can. The one she blinded makes the annoyingly smart choice of flying straight up, and she takes off with a boom of wind to confirm the kill. 

She beats her wings hard as she zones in on her prey. She reaches out with her claw, its end is nigh, only to be choked by her collar appearing again, Spyro weighing her down, holding her back from finishing the job. She hisses in anger as the creature's buzzing gets fainter, attempting with all her might to keep climbing higher.

As her mana finally runs out, admittedly a lot later than she expected, she stops in place, hovering in the air. Her breathing is rapid and disorganized, and a burn in her muscles is noticeably ramping up.

What am I even doing?

She looks around to make sure they have indeed all fled. After counting the blobs of orange-grey fleeing into the horizon and having it roughly line up with the earlier headcount, she looks down, only to notice Hunter sitting in the grass, leaning against a tree, clutching his leg with Spyro by his side. He wasn't even holding her down intentionally, he just happened to stay on the ground. 

This collar will also be an issue if this persists.

She swoops down and lands next to Hunter. He opens his eyes to look around, jumping a little when his vision turns to her. He chuckles for a moment.

“I already know what my chief will say…” he deepens his pained voice: “Ought to put a bell on this one!”

“Can you stand?” asks Spyro, disregarding his attempt at humor. 

“Unlikely. The spot is not far though, we should head for it before tending to any wounds.” he suggests.

“You can lean on me to walk, if that’d help.” Spyro offers.

“Did you say will?” she asks. 

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he sighs as he stands up, aided by the tree. “We’re on the cusp of crossing into Avalar. If, for whatever reason, we needed to stop anywhere for medicine, weapons, food, my tribe is available as a contingency. That will likely be necessary for me. Otherwise we could’ve simply passed through the valley to head directly to Warfang.” he elaborates, leaning down a bit to put a hand on Spyro’s back for assistance. 

He indeed cannot put any of his weight on that limb, which explains why he’s not exactly handling the pain with exemplary grace. 

They limp over to a cavern by the river, well, Hunter limps, Spyro assists him, and she occupies herself by being a lookout at least. The cavern is shallow, and its only opening is entirely visible from its far corner. "This is as good as it gets in the middle of a forest, I suppose." she comments.

In the middle of it sits the remains of a campfire, and along its walls there are a few bits of wood and firestarter remaining. Whoever used this place must’ve done it recently.

She turns to Hunter for an explanation, hoping that it was him before as well. The cheetah is slumped against a smoother bit of the walls and has put his good foot up on a boulder, which is close enough to a confirmation of what was already obvious.

Spyro lugs a few bits of the wood to the campfire spot and breathes fire with roughly the force one would use to blow out a candle. The fuel does light up, and he sighs and lays down in the heat. She quickly makes her way to the inner side of the cavern, and lays down as well, facing towards the entrance. 

A thought dashes across her mind. She reaches up to her neck, and her claws bump into it. The collar materializes once more around both her own neck and Spyro’s, a green, shifting line connecting them. She puts a claw under the metal to pry it off, to no avail. As she pulls her claw out, a horrible screeching sound fills the cave. Spyro winces away and Hunter goes to cover his ears. 

“Maybe we could try twisting the line?” suggests Spyro.

“Twist what? It’s magic.” she shoots down the idea, sighing in defeat. 

The collar disappears from view. She shifts her gaze to her forelegs. 

How are they back?

She curls her tail forward and puts it under the metal, then tries to rotate it outward hoping to snap it off. She feels her blade press against her scales, realising this would do more harm than good, even if it worked. A huge gash like that would definitely get infected out in a forest. She’s staring intently at his metallic grip on her, maybe hit it with a large rock? No, the hit would have to be perfect to not break anything but the shackle. Melting it would be no good, unless she wants permanent burn marks on all her extremities. Maybe something chemical? But where would they even get that out here? No...

“Behind the rack of wood there’s a small stash of food.” speaks up Hunter. “I hope most of it is still intact.”

She realises that hunger started gnawing at her long ago, and decides it’s probably for the best to leave those be until they have proper tools to get rid of them. 

Spyro has since obtained a small sack from its hiding spot, and is now looking through it. He spreads the hole open, then hands them each a few pieces of dried meat alongside an apple.

She snatches the food from his palm, but tries her best to wait patiently for the others to have their portions as well. Once Hunter takes a bite, she goes ahead too. She grabs the meat between her fingers. Ordinarily, she’d simply skewer food on her wing blades to eat, but those are currently occupied by the winged-grublin-eye remains. The meat explodes in her mouth with a salty, spicy flavor as she’s impatiently chewing it, trying to get it down as fast as possible. After a few bites though, she makes an effort to slow down and savor the taste.

“It's quite good, definitely made to be more than just sustenance. Thank you.” she says to Hunter. 

What is certainly at least noise comes from Spyro’s way too, inferably what’s meant to be “oh yeah, thank you”, but ending up nowhere close to that. 

Shortly after he's done, Hunter’s fast asleep. Spyro’s done eating too and gets up to approach her. She hurries to put a wing over the remains of her food, freezing him in place. He tilts his head down a tad, looking at her, as if waiting for permission to keep going. Stupid...

She sheepishly moves her wing aside with a sigh. "What do you want?" she asks. Wow that came out meaner than she meant.

He pauses for a moment, but shakes it off. “Is it feelings time yet?” he asks with a grin.

She cringes at her earlier phrasing: "I guess so, yes. But if you want to talk about things so bad, you have to answer me first!"

“Oh boy. Fine, hit me.” he says, moving to plop down beside her.

“What was that earlier with that Golem? Did you really try to jump in the way of a punch from that thing?” she asks, more amused than she expected.

“What? Jump? Golem? I'm not-, I don't even know what you’re talking about…” he turns his face away from her, suddenly really interested in the ceiling. 

His clownery does elicit a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sure you’d rather forget.” 

He laughs as he bumps a wing into her. "Look, it worked once, okay?"

She stares solemnly ahead. Fine, fair. He did save her ass once.

“Is it my turn?” He asks.

“Sure.” she groans.

“You know all of that was just self defense, right?”

Smooth shift, Spyro…

The smile fades from her face. She pauses for a few seconds, carefully choosing her next words.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” she lies.

“Don’t you? It is important to me that you know this. They were out to hurt us and you defended yourself. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“That’s just what you want to hear!” she roars up. “And for you, it might be correct. I saw what you were doing behind me when we got ambushed in the cave. Even the one you did kill was borderline an accident!” Spyro is staying silent. She goes on in return: “I’m trying so hard to change, and it’s not working.”

Spyro’s expression cracks. “You’re not who you used to be. It’s plain and obvious that you’ve changed."

She scoffs, turning away.

"To start, you no longer tower over me when we stand up.” he banters.

…smooth as sandpaper. Though it does make her consider things. She has to admit: indeed she does not. But what does that matter anyway? A body is just a body.

“Maybe not, but a lot of her still remains. Look at my claws, Spyro! And then look at yours…” her cold, metallic claw is next to his of warm bone. “Every part of me was hand-crafted to be his weapon.”

He waits a few seconds, letting the thought settle. After thinking for a moment, he puts his paw over her claws.

“That’s weird. I see only the soft paw of a dragon.”

Gears turn in her head at his bold display. She scoffs and pulls away from him. “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He lets out a sigh before faintly smiling at her. “Okay.” And with that, he stands up and walks off to the edge of the cave. “The stars are beautiful from here.” he tells her.

She lays down and covers her head with her wing. She vaguely hears a faint "Good night" coming from his way, though it could have just been her imagination.

Chapter Text

The stars really are beautiful, that much is certain. It’s at the very least some consolation for the current state of things. 3 years gone in a blink. It’s hard to even believe.

The fire crackles behind him, its intensity dwindling. You, too, are about ready for some sleep I see. Dark trees line his vision, a gentle gust of air dancing through them. Quiet, for once, is doing him some good. Those catacombs were devoid of sound, too, but more eerie. Silent like a hunt, not peaceful like rest. And when it wasn’t, it pained his eardrums with the loud barreling of that golem.

Are we lucky to have gotten away?

Stars dot the sky, shining faintly from their distance. They say every one of those is an Ancestor, watching over them. Too numerous to count… if those are the Ancestors, what are the two moons supposed to be? Adrano and Zella, perhaps they were named after lovers? …Though let’s hope not, as one dwarfs the other. 

His eyes wander back down as he sighs. Their feelings time could have gone better, to say the least. Cynder would probably still be in her head about things, if only she wasn’t asleep. It’s hard to say, though, what would even help her. Reassurance? What is there besides that, that he could grant her?

Every word he told her is true. The end of a life is never graceful, but they do what they must. 

That smell… For just a moment he feels like retching at the memory. 

Why, then, was that same feeling eating away at him, too?

An accident.

He, indeed, did not mean to end the life of even that grublin . It’s obvious that whatever those things are, they aren’t natural. He’s never seen their likeness before. That limb has no other function besides being a weapon. Dragons have magic and claws, but magic is for more than destruction, and claws come attached to paws. Not those . Is that all these are? A weapon of the Dark Lord? Perhaps made by him too.

Even still, did it deserve what it got? He saw the way that one curled up around its stomach, and the way they ran every which way. They can feel pain, they can feel fear. They, too, suffer. And for what? Power, like the apes, an empty promise by the Dark Lord? Life? That’s possible, maybe violence is all that’s in store for them. And suffer, it did. For what must’ve lasted nothing more than a moment, he hopes. 

Chill air sweeps by his face. He tucks his wings close by to preserve the comfortable body heat he’s accrued.

3 years… if only…

A thought tramples across his mind: he was advised not to do this. The Chronicler told him not to go after her. He could’ve been there the entire way through for the guardians if he’d just waited like he was supposed to. He should’ve been fighting on the front lines to stop the spread of the Dark Lord’s armies. Countless lives saved, immeasurable suffering prevented. 

That’s what he should have…

He puts a wing below his head then lays down on cold stone once more. His gaze lands on her. Right. Impossible to say what her fate would have been, had he not been there. 

His eyes shut tight with a grimace, as if in pain. 

He tries to still his thoughts as he’s readying for sleep. He is teetering on the very edge of consciousness, waiting to tumble down into the valley of his dreams. 

His body heat is escaping, though, cutting him short each time. Despite having an affinity for fire, he himself produces annoyingly little warmth. The wind’s direction changes with a maddening lack of pattern, sometimes blowing the right way for him to be unaffected, before changing in an instant and pulling him back from sleep like a cold shower. 

Quiet…

The realisation strikes like lightning. Forests don’t become quiet at night, it should be buzzing with cicadas, feathery wings flapping, but the only sound he can hear is the distant churning of the river. Animals get quiet when they need to hide. Something is out there, threatening enough to mute the whole forest. 

He perks his head up to peer around. His eyes scan his surroundings, before he turns around to look at his mates. 

Cynder has curled up around herself, covering her face with her wings still. His gaze lingers for a moment: I…

He snaps out of it, peering over to Hunter, who has not moved since falling asleep. He also didn’t wake up to Cynder being rather loud some moments ago. He must be very exhausted.

“Surely he’s still alive, right?” That’s what you’d say… He can practically hear it.

He grins at his fantasy, doing his damndest to suppress his laugh.

He turns back around to the forest. Perhaps it isn’t a singular thing out there. It might be the effects of the war: they were gone a long time after all. Still, he best stay there.

If anything comes during the night…

He does his best to ignore the cold air depriving him of rest. He needs to stay right there. These two have done nothing but help him, if anything happened to them…

~~~

Splat

Liquid hits the ground with a thick, ugly sound. Red. Everything is red. Her claws are drenched in red. The mad laughs of the grublins echo through the walls of the catacombs. She lashes out as the wretches collapse and melt into the darkness. More come, she strikes again, they drop again, then disappear again in a dizzying cycle. She spins around madly, surrounded by the worms waiting to be struck down. The whole forest is full of them, hiding behind trees, scurrying between roots.

A dark, booming laugh drowns out every other noise as his dark form towers over her. She jumps for his throat before getting yanked back, crashing through darkness, watching herself. Her limbs stretch painfully, writhing as she wets her claws with dragon blood for the first time again. She can’t stop herself, her enemies have changed, is what she’s doing still good? Arrows whip by as she dives onto prey, the life leaving their body. She treads towards her target, trying to pull back when she spots his face.

Spyro

Black mist leaves her mouth as she tries to speak, speeding towards him. He breathes it in and starts suffocating, crumbling to the ground. She jumps to get away, landing on top of him instead, holding him down with overwhelming force. Her claws slip into his neck, his whole body smaller than her head, barely past his childhood. Her tail swipes at him as his laugh stamps out the sound of his whimpers.

His blood splashes across her face-

Her eyes shoot open and take in her surroundings, her breathing hard. In front of her sits a dwindling campfire, she jerks her head up, taking in the sight of the unmoving cheetah and cavernous walls around her. She glances around, her eyes finally settling on Spyro.

Her face eases as her breathing stills. He’s laying calmly, his head on his wing, body stretched out wide. She stares at his figure for a moment.

He’s fine…

She takes a frustrated breath: but still.

She gets up and treads over to him. Slowly as she approaches, the silent cycle of his ribcage becomes visible, slow breath in, slow breath out. She stands over him, observing silently, peeking at his neck. She knows, but she needs to see. 

No marks.

She lets go of a breath she did not realise she was holding. Before she goes back, she peers towards Hunter… just in case. 

The cheetah is still exactly where he was before falling asleep, still out cold. 

The world could end and he’d be none the wiser, it seems.

Though, as she thinks back to just how loud she was before the two of them went to sleep as well, maybe it’s for the best.

It’s quiet… There’s something out there scaring the wildlife into silence.

Gears turn in her head.

Is that why you’re laying by the entrance of the cave?

“Pretty stars” my ass.

She considers for a moment, laying down next to him. Her abilities are at the very least equal to his, and he should be aware by now that she can fend for herself more than handily. 

She looks at his body stretched out before her, his stomach on full display, perhaps indecently so, depending on who you ask. 

Fine. You can have this. If laying out there alone makes you feel better I won’t take it away…

She lowers her body back to the ground, admittedly closer to him than she was before. She watches the fire grasp for life on its last leg for a few minutes, before yet again putting a wing over her face and closing her eyes, this time without any more nightmares disturbing her. 

…It does feel nice, I suppose.  

Chapter Text

Spyro wakes to rays of sunshine piercing the cloudy sky, falling on his face. Sleep still clings to him tight, but he fails to reach out for it amidst the wind licking at his face. Lavender pierces his nose, now that the smell of wet grass has faded. He takes a moment before opening his eyes, letting them adjust to the flood of light. Heavy eyelids constrict his vision until he blinks a few times, trying to focus on the scenery. The woods in front of him look surprisingly inviting, as if he was in a different place entirely than where he fell asleep. The sound of chirping washes over his ears, bouncing back from the cavern each time. His wing proves too soft to get up just yet, but the tension down his back does convince him to roll his legs over, un-twisting his spine from the unnatural position it was likely in all night. 

He glances inside, spotting Cynder laying noticeably closer than when they went to sleep.

When did she…

The thought dies off as his gaze stumbles into it on her back. He perks his head up, and, after giving it a second look to confirm he's seeing it right, he tries his best to look away from the scene to no avail. His eyes are drawn to it, despite what it is.

Do we… tell her? She’s not gonna be happy about it. We should. Better for her to know, so that something can be done.

Hunter is already awake, though he’s not doing much besides quietly fiddling around with his cloak. His injured leg is swollen like a sack about to burst. It’ll be difficult for him to go anywhere with that for quite a while. If only he could have-

No, he’s explicitly stated you are not responsible for him. Stop. Either way, no sense worrying about could’ve-beens. 

The cheetah looks back at him, giving him a quiet wave. He lazily nods back. 

Her? he motions at Cynder quietly. Hunter tilts his head to the side, not understanding what he’s alluding to. He shakes his head, nevermind, before laying back down.

He wants to close his eyes, maybe go back to sleep a little while longer, but he just can’t help it.

She looks so… peaceful. At peace, rather. From just looking at her right this instant, it’s impossible to infer what fire she holds in her soul… and in her past.

Finally she stirs, causing him to take his eyes off of her in a hurry. She uncovers her face, stretching her wings wide with a yawn. She looks around, first glancing at Hunter, then at Spyro. Darker circles underline her eyes, clearly nobody besides Hunter got a good night's sleep.

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Good morning,” he whispers back, maybe a bit louder than he meant to.

“Good, we’re all awake.” states Hunter. “Let us get going as soon as possible!”

“I don’t suppose your leg has magically healed itself overnight.” asks Cynder.

“It has not. I have devised a make-shift cast for it, though. It shall do.” He states as he pulls his hands away from his leg, revealing the mass of cloth that was once his cape. “We will take a detour to my tribe, though if it goes right we should end up saving time, not losing it. There is a secret cave next to them which leads directly to the inside of the dragon city.”

Cynder gets up with another big stretch, this time of her forelegs, and steps outside onto the grass. “If this route is so good, how come we weren’t going to take it originally?” His eyes follow her curiously.

“The problem is my chief, Prowlus.” Hunter begins. “He has… outdated opinions about a lot of things, among which are dragons, and their role in this conflict. I should be able to successfully bargain for help, but having to do so is a scenario I would have rather avoided.”

“Racist old man. Got it.” She proclaims before lifting her face towards the sun, basking in the light.

The two others exchange a look. Hunter starts gathering his belongings as Spyro, too, gets up and joins her on the grass. They depart down the river shortly, Hunter doing his best to avoid putting weight on his bad leg by using a longer piece of wood they found lying by as a crutch.

The only detour they make is for a small cavern nearby. Hunter explains he has explored it before, and it has an instance of the crystal they need to refill their mana. Power surges within them once again as they make contact with the gem.

Step after step, they waddle towards the tribe. He must admit, along the way he did consider suggesting the idea of just taking off flying with Cynder and heading straight for the dragon city. Surely, their friend would be fine on his own, but problems arise if he happens not to be alone: if he got ambushed in his injured state, it would mean his death. There is no choice besides sticking by his side so as not to risk him ending up grublin chow.

Eventually, along the way, the thought becomes unavoidable: the tribe already doesn’t like dragons… and if she prances into their territory like that… Something needs to be done, the conversation grows in urgency with every step they take.

Eventually, upon reaching a shallow part in the river, he makes up his mind. Let’s just get it over with

“Cynder… you… um…” he begins with exceptional smoothness. He gulps as she stops walking and looks at him blankly. Best not to say it out loud. He can see it too, but it’d probably feel more embarrassing. He leans in close to whisper in her ear as she waits in suspense without budging.

“You still have blood on your back.” he spills.

She pauses for a moment, processing his statement. “I… see.” she says, peering to the river. “Hunter, would you like to give your leg a rest soon?”

“We can stop if you wish.” he answers before approaching a tree to sit down in the grass.

Spyro follows him, sticking by his side, ready to be leaned on if he needs help. As he turns back around, Cynder is already in the river, sploshing about with determination. 

He lays down in the grass next to Hunter, staring at a line of ants running around in front of them. The occasional sound pulls him away from his thoughts and the mesmerising organisation of the workers in front of him.

His staring grows in intensity, only snapping out of it when he realises her sounds have stopped. He picks his gaze up, looking curiously towards her. He can’t quite make out what-

“Spyro…?” she says, looking away from him.

His heart skips a beat, whatever it may be it can't be good. Before he even realises, he is already on his feet and approaching her. As his claws are about to make contact with the water, he pauses though, staring at her, as if waiting for her to clarify that she does not want him there. She does no such thing, so he dips a paw into the cold river, then another, making his way over.

He finally arrives next to her. She's still staring straight ahead, and he goes to mimic her. He does not dare look into her eyes. Not right now. She’s looking away for a reason, whatever that may be. 

“Yeah?”

Her lips curl in on themselves as she steels her nerves. “I can’t… see my back.”

…Right!

“Or reach it…”

Obviously…

“Could you…” Her voice retreats before she can finish the sentence.

“Right! Yeah… yeah sure! Let me just-” he gets interrupted by her turning her back to him, gory splotches dotting it all over. 

Ancestors, that’s a lot of…  

He thinks for a moment: “What if you… okay, get down in the water and I’ll… do the thing.”

Without a word she submerges her body, then spreads her wings to get them out of the way.

Right. Just have to…

He lifts a paw to her back, aligning his skin with hers, before placing just the end of one finger against her, then another, then the third, and slowly lays his remaining phalanges then palm down as well. Her body is cold, alarmingly so. Not that that seems to mean anything to her, she's not shivering and doesn't seem uncomfortable. He begins shuffling his palm side to side, faintly hoping that the water will do most of the work for him. Her back is slick with the dried blood, causing his hands to get no friction. It barely even registers that he's touching scales in the moment, the feeling more closely resembling skidding on ice. 

His digits brush over her bumpy scales, their pattern occasionally interrupted by streaks that misalign with the rest. He has a task to tend to, but he can't help but linger over them. With all the blood covering her, it is not immediately obvious, but soon the realisation hits: those are almost certainly scars. He retracts his hand sharply, he should have been more careful with those! Cynder's breath hitches in her throat, and he stammers out "Sorry, it's nothing", putting his paw back where it was. Scars are weaker than skin and he'd rather not add her blood to the pool as well, but there is no way to confidently discern where they are and are not, so there's no choice but to continue while ignoring them.

He is at it for a few more seconds, before Cynder's wings droop by her with a heavy sigh.

“I’m not porcelain, you won’t break me by using force.” she instructs, eyes still dead set forward. 

He stops his motion, chuckling for a moment. “Right, obviously.” he says before placing his other front paw on her back as well and finally scrubbing with intent. For just a moment, he does notice a faint smile from her as well. Circle after circle, friction develops between his skin and hers. Circle after circle, he uncovers the messy bumps in her back, not that he can do much to avoid irritating them, the way he's doing it. Circle after circle, his breath grows heavier from the exertion, his paws not stopping for a second. Circle after circle, he's ridding her of all that.

Finally he pauses, then removes his paws to stop putting his weight on her, landing back in the water with an unelegant splash.

As he looks closer to be sure that every bit is gone, however, he notices discoloration at the bases of her wings. As if cloth was being ripped apart, tiny circles dot her scales, winding around each other with no discernable pattern.

She turns her head around as much as she can to peer at what he’s doing. He declares “Done!” nervously, feeling as if he was caught in an act. She simply blinks at him before faintly saying “thank you,” and turning towards him.

Their eyes linger on each other, only broken by Hunter speaking up. “I've rested enough to continue, if you wish.”

They turn towards his voice, Cynder departing shortly from the river towards Hunter, glancing back at Spyro before stepping out. He hurries after her, and as they step out of the water Hunter gets up. They can only hope there is nothing else that could potentially ruin any good impressions they may still have the chance to make. 

The winding river finally leads them to their destination. As they enter the valley, a line of smoke reaches for the skies, and the smell of fish roasting hits their nostrils. In the distance, past where the river takes a sharp turn, a fence of sharp wood obscures the tribe from view. Watch towers stand over the wall, and as they get closer the silhouettes of cheetahs stir within the ones facing them. 

As they approach, the frame of a gigantic door develops, and one half of the gate moves out of the way, giving them a slot to pass through. 

Spyro glances back at Cynder, whose eyes are dead set on the top of a watchtower. Upon noticing him, though, staring, she snaps out of it and turns to him. He points at the entrance with his gaze for a moment, beckoning her for any reservations she might have about entering. 

She narrows her eyes as she peers back at the figure in the tower.

Worst case scenario we just fly off, C.

She lets out a sigh, turning back to him and shaking her head dismissively. He nods and they turn their attention to the entrance, which Hunter has already used. They slip through, and 2 small cubs push the hunk of wood closed behind them. 

They follow Hunter, making their way to the center of the tribe. Several heads turn their way as they head through the living quarters. Elders get close to whisper to each other, some stare, children get ushered inside their houses, some don't dare to stare. 

“Dragons! Bah.” A raspy voice behind them cuts through the silence of the usually bustling tribe. Hunter whips around to face them, the 2 dragons in question following suit. “Hunter. Do you have such little respect for our laws that you would form an alliance with the very creatures that caused all our misfortunes?”

“Chief Prowlus!” Hunter begins. “Malefor, the Dark Lord, he alone is the one to blame. And these dragons, they are our last hope to end the war. You have to see that!”

The chief's face scrunches to a somehow angrier one than before, and he nods towards a cloaked figure amongst the crowd. The figure inserts a crystal into a crude, metallic lock fastened to a thick pole then closes it shut. Before they even realise what that might be, the collars around their necks appear for a moment. The chain no longer leads them to each other, though, but to the lock.

Cynder’s eyes go wide as their collars disappear again, and she whips back around, glaring at the chief.

Spyro leans into her, then whispers: “hey, if nothing else, I burn the pole and we fly off with the lock attached.”

“If we don't get pelted by arrows first.” she whispers back. 

The chief continues. “I am aware of your little prophecy. But unlike you, I have not forgotten what they say Malefor was like when he was young, and I have not forgotten what she has done.”

The eyes of the crowd shift from the chief and Hunter to Cynder. She's looking around, sizing up the cheetahs, having already lowered her body and raised her tail. Some in the crowd are clutching at their weapons already.

Shit

He takes a step towards her, getting into the chief’s line of sight. He raises his head high, glaring daggers at him.

He glances back for a moment, seeing her lowering her tail and relaxing her limbs. They can only hope this puts the warriors at ease. 

The chief's neck twitches for a moment, his gaze unbroken. Finally he turns back to Hunter.

“I relied on you, just as I must rely on all of us in this village to keep it safe. But you abandoned us!” He bends down a touch to be eye level with him. “And upon your return, you bring the dangers of the outside world with you.”

All at once, several watchtowers begin ringing bells as a faint buzzing sound commences.

“Grublins! Grublins in the valley!” Shouts one of them.

“Everybody to your stations!” Instructs the chief. “Now look what you've done! These two herald nothing but danger.”

Spyro speaks up, trying to get the chief on their side. “Let us go, we can help keep the grublins away!”

“You would fly right off! Or your fire could light up all of our buildings! That's if you even decide to actually help.” answers the chief. They do not like the implication.

“I-, we would… we want to help! We wouldn't just fly away!” He argues

“You're the reason these beasts are here in the first place!” Yells back Prowlus.

He cringes at the possibility. Could that be the case? They were not aware of anybody tracking them, but it-

“Fine then!” exclaims Cynder. “We will simply sit here and watch as your soldiers get slaughtered. With the ridiculous disadvantage of numbers you have, it will not take long.” she says as she, indeed, sits down on the ground.

The chief clutches his paws in anger, looking around at the fliers converging on their position, their archers not even close to sufficient to keep them at bay.

“Better yet, when was the last time they had something to eat? I don't see any farmland nearby, your tribe forages! Are your soldiers nice and satiated before this fight?”

If a look could kill when angry enough, they'd’ve reached it long ago.

“Better not risk the dragons you want out of your hair flying away, right? It's not like the grublins are after us anyway.” She adds.

Finally he breaks. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a key, then jams it into the lock and opens it. The collars appear again, at last only linking back to each other. The faint shimmer they didn't even notice the lock had before is now gone.

“Don't make me regret this!” Commands the chief through gritted teeth.

Cynder! Hell yeah!

Circling overhead, slowly descending on them, are wyverns. Their red, kite-like bodies wave like flags as they fly, and their teeth are dripping with saliva, itching to get a taste of that dragon meat.

Spyro spreads his wings and takes to the skies, creating a whirlwind of cold spreading outwards. As he twists around, already starting to get dizzy, his body rapidly starts losing heat. It is worth it though, as the creatures flying overhead slow down.

Cynder is… where is she? Gone… apparently. For a few seconds, it's impossible to make out where she disappeared to, in part due to his brain sloshing around inside his skull until finally, from the shadows she leaps out onto the largest assailant in the group, on its back before it even realises, and already slashing away at the back of its neck with her tail. As his body makes another rotation, expanding more mana and cooling the skies even more, all that's left of the scene is the body of the wyvern laying on the ground, and her again nowhere to be seen. 

The cheetah archers make quick work of the unarmored grublins, and the ones on the ground are dispatched of by the rest. Their work is not flawless, but it is sufficient.

As he continues spouting ice and frost everywhere, one by one the wyverns drop as the black figure pounces on them.

She's terrifyingly efficient at this. She got her old title for a reason, I suppose.

Finally he stops as none remain moving. The two land on the ground near Hunter, looking around to see if anybody is still fighting.

~~~

When she confirms that they're indeed all safe, she looks to Spyro, who's staring at her, trying to catch her sight. He motions towards the sky, in what he probably assumes is the general direction of Warfang.

Agreed, let's go! She nods silently, but as he begins to spread his wings the sound of a sword being drawn interrupts them.

“Who says you're free to go?” Asks the chief, sword in hand, ready for suicide-by-dragon. 

Who on earth does this cheetah think he is?

“Who are you to say otherwise?” she asks, stepping closer, teetering on the edge of his weapon's reach.

“Cynder stop!” Begs a voice from behind her. “We can just go. They don't have fliers, they can't do anything! There's no need…”

Is there no need?!

She bores holes into his eyes, just barely further than the length of a full swing.

“Look at your sword! Is it stained with blood? It seems shiny like silver to me.” she challenges him. 

The chief's neck twitches for a moment again.

Nervous?

Finally she breaks eye contact to look around. His injured warriors are slowly making their way to the doctors, one even being carried. The rest are pulling arrows out of corpses, cleaning their weapons, a few still sitting around, lost in thought, as if it was their first ever brush with death.

Every way she looks, people avert their eyes, weapons get holstered before getting cleaned properly, the ones left standing sit down. 

She smirks for a moment at the chief. “I guess there isn't.” she says before taking off in an instant.

Spyro’s wings make a loud fwoop as he follows suit, quickly matching her altitude.

After a few minutes of flying, the thought settles: they left Hunter behind. She can only hope that after this display, he will not be punished by his chief. Banished, perhaps. Though for that tribe, she would not count that as punishment.

She averts her eyes from the unending forest laid out before them, looking back as the tribe gets smaller and smaller in the distance. They're quickly approaching lower cloud height, Spyro's ascent slowing down. She obliges, and they keep sailing below. Sunlight falls on her back, blinding her for a moment as it reflects in her shackles. She stops looking around.

The silence between them is so thick it could dull a spear. 

They need to be gone. First priority when we get there. She is trying her hardest to keep the thought of it at bay, but she can't help it. Her heart speeds up when she considers not only the fact that they're there, but also how they got on her body again. They weren't there, then the two passed out, and now they're here. What else could they have-

“One less potential ally…” says spyro

“Hm?” she perks up.

“That’s one less potential ally. They're a warrior tribe who aren't siding with the Dark Lord in the conflict. Maybe they could've helped us.”

…Having larger numbers definitely doesn't hurt if this really has become an all out war.

“Nevermind, I-” he tries to take it back before getting cut off.

“No, you're right, I could've handled that better.” she agrees with a sigh.

…to say the least. Humiliating him then flying off? Perhaps Hunter could have convinced them to send a detachment their way to aid them if they simply took off without a word. 

The wind begins to pick up, carrying them towards their destination. Before they can even begin to think about that, though, heavy clouds are forming on the horizon.

“I've got some sort of gut feeling that this isn't how this was supposed to go down.” he says.

"‘Supposed to’? What does that mean?" she asks, puzzled. In retrospect it's obvious that this wasn't the ideal way to handle this conflict, but it's nothing devastating. The main advantage of cheetahs in a fight is their superior mobility, but there's no mobility superior to flight anyway. “Your gut is feeling some weird things, Spyro.” she pokes at him.

Chapter Text

The clouds above are only getting thicker. Beat after beat, on they go, but the distance refuses to budge. They've been flying long. Too long. Sunset came and went, the orange-gold beauty, but the stars have not arrived to illuminate their path. They're not in dire need of light though, they're not likely to get ambushed in the air, and they're almost definitely faster than any would-be attackers anyway. 

Exhaustion set in long ago. They've had no upwind to rest in in what's felt like hours, and they haven't recuperated a single calorie spent. No drinks, no stops. Even his tinier, mostly unused muscles have begun to cramp here and there.

If only, at least, it was a little more intense so they would stop nodding off. It's been the same vaguely green, boring darkness forever. It's become a chore to pay attention, and being underslept does not work in their favour either. 

But they've been gone too long. He yawns wide, like a snake unhinging its jaw, struggling to beat back the lack of sleep creeping up on him.

Pat

The weights on his eyes disappear. A raindrop just landed on his wing. Please don’t…

Then another on his head. Then back. Then his wing again, back again, then 2, 4, until the pitter-patter becomes constant. 

Apparently they weren't facing enough difficulties already, according to whichever ancestor sent this weather their way. He turns towards Cynder for opinions on what to do.

She's surveilling the clouds above them, trying to judge how much higher they'd need to go to be above the source of rain. The beat of her wings is uncharacteristically heavy, then again, probably so is his, with the distance they've been flying uninterrupted.

"I don't think we can go up. Those clouds are really high, we wouldn't have enough air. Not that they'd be safe to cross anyway." She states.

"Whatever. We will just deal with it I guess." He answers, turning back around. 

On they go, drenched in water. Those extra bits of weight add up quickly, and the crackle of thunderbolts in the distance isn't very encouraging. It wasn't even noticeable, at first, the way the rain was ramping up. Slowly, over time, slightly enough that they don't notice in the moment, too focused on stretching their legs and wings between flaps to make the soreness and cramps go away, until he zones back in and what was once an unpleasant pitter-patter is now an orchestra of drops on their backs. They can take it, though. They can keep going. They're strong. They have to be. 

He should have been there. They were gone for too long. Who can know what kind of moves Malefor's armies have made, how far they've advanced technologically...

No, they have to keep going. If the elders are in the dragon city, not the temple, that means they haven't succeeded in retaking it. If they've even tried at all, and if not it'd mean that trying would be too risky. Or that they're needed elsewhere! Like the dragon city. 

And that thing... Molten rock and fire came alive, and if that thing gets to the city, it would-

"Spyro..."

Oh no… He peers towards her in a hurry. "You okay back there?"

"It's... cold." She states, staring at the ground.

"Is it? Damn I... I didn't even consider that that might be a problem for you."

"It's... I'm not... My shackles are cold, okay? They're cold, and they sting, and I’m tired, and I'd like to land." 

He didn't even think of that. His vision grows fuzzy. They can't. They need to keep going.

But... how long had she been waiting to tell that? Land. She needs to land. 

Ignitus is waiting for them. Every day, Malefor's advantage in the conflict grows. Every moment, that Golem is only getting closer to its goal.

But... 

Stop thinking about all of that!

They need to land.

“Okay, let’s get down from here.” he says, looking to her as he starts descending, her following suit. He should’ve paid better attention to her.

As they approach the ground, the cold slowly dissipates, replaced by the equally annoying, constant buzz of raindrops landing below them. Wind jerks them around harder and harder the closer they get to the surface, eventually almost sweeping him away entirely. 

The flutter of his wings becomes more and more erratic, trying to keep up with the ever-changing directions of the gusts assaulting them. He narrows his eyes to slits, tearing up from the mix of blowing air and flowing water. He looks around, where is she? 

The black blob near him is doing mostly fine, seemingly, not moving other than steadily down, unbothered. 

The whistle in his ear peaks as the force overwhelms him. He tries to resist it, but it is far stronger than him! He cranes his neck around to see where it's pushing him.

Shit

He gets thrown into the top of a tree, loud snaps marking every branch he cuts through.

Thump

~~~

She’s slowing them down. They could keep going, if even just a little longer, the city might appear on the horizon any moment. They just need to get there. Nothing else matters. Not hunger, they can eat there. Not exhaustion, they can rest there. Not injuries, they can heal there.

Or, it might not. They might only be a third of the way there. In that case, taking a break to rest would be the better move.

The pain is digging into her. As the temperature drops, the metal on her cools and cools, potentially not into frostbite territory yet, so she knows she’s probably not in actual danger, but she can’t think the pain away.

Ignore it

She grits her teeth. She won’t get injured from it. It’s not cold enough. Carry on!

She redoubles her efforts to keep going: they can’t stop yet. 

It’d be much easier to be in whatever secret cave Hunter was talking about. So much easier. So much more efficient. No need to worry about rain, cold, wind…

Imbecile

She messed it up for them. If the cave had any machinery in it, they could even be there already. Why couldn’t they... she... just…

The metal feels like it’s burning her as they pass through another colder patch. Her face ruffles in frustration. Whatever. It’ll be over eventually. They just need to make it to the end of this worse part, then it will ease. The pain will be-

An illusion.

Right. It’s not freezing, she’s not in actual danger. She can keep pushing. Keep pushing... just keep pushing!

How would she even tell him? How could she ask him to slow down when the others are in danger? She can’t. She must. 

A colder gust blows by them. Her throat strains to suppress a whimper, her paws clench, claws trembling. They need to rest. They’re probably not even close yet, and if the folk there are actually in danger, then they can’t help them in this state anyway. They need to land!

“Spyro?” she begins. 

His eyes pick up and his head flicks back towards her. “You okay back there?”

"It's... cold." She can’t handle his gaze. She slumps her head, hoping he’ll look away from her.

"Is it? Damn I... I didn't even consider that that might be a problem for you."

"It's... I'm not…” Fucking, just say it. It’s just him. “My shackles are cold, okay? They're cold, and they sting, and I’m tired, and I'd like to land."

His eyes grow wide as he turns back around.

Agh! There she goes, selfishly choosing to ease her own struggle, choosing to save herself above anybody else.

He can see it now, too!

He turns back around to speak to her. Here it comes... "Okay, let’s get down from here.” he says, slowly descending.

Wait...

They slow down the beat of their wings, quickly losing altitude.

As they get close to landing, the wind noticeably picks up, enough that she has to squint her eyes to keep seeing. Spyro’s doing much the same, judging by how unstable his flight is. 

Isn't he mad?

As they approach the ground, the whistle of the wind drowns out everything else, except for the faint noises of tree branches crackling, then a sudden thump.

Before she can even look towards it, the collar rips at her neck, tearing her out of the sky and tossing her into the leaves. She crashes straight through, futilely clawing at the bark to slow their fall, taking branches with herself, before landing in a huge patch of damp moss.

Her vision is slowly coming back as her system recovers from the impact. A rough pain is coursing through her abdomen, and her muscles are locked up tightly. The moss is surprisingly comfortable though, even if only from the long flight. Slowly she manages to let go of the tension in her neck and lays her head down at last. She relaxes her wings for the first time that day. She stretches her legs-

Spyro!

She turns over and jumps up, looking around frantically. He’s not anywhere she can see, the moss can’t have swallowed him. She claws towards the center of the patch to get a better view. Finally she sees a tiny spot, thank the ancestors he’s fucking purple, and rushes over to him. She digs away the moss, then bites down on where his collar should be. It fades into view between her teeth, allowing her to drag him out from the hole of the impact. 

He has not woken up yet.

No, no no no…

She shakes him for a moment. No response. 

She flips him over, and tentatively puts her paw on his neck. She covers his face and as much of his body as she can with her wings, shielding him from the rain. Her face is right in his, not daring to move as her heart beats in her throat. 

No...

Finally she feels the slight warmth of his breath on her face. Though it only took a moment, it felt like she was frozen forever. Her own breath shudders as she sighs in relief, resting her paw on his chest for a moment.

Okay… okay, okay, okay…

Most immediately he needs warmth. He’s not like her.

Fire. How is she supposed to make a fire for him? He’s the fire dragon, and everything around is wet. He’s probably also out of mana anyway. 

Shelter, then. To get away from the weather. But what shelter? Where, in the middle of a flat forest?

He’s… going to…

No! Don’t think about that! Now is not the time to think!

She did not spot anything nearby that they could use as shelter. Nothing artificial, no caves, nothing. Doesn’t matter, pick him up and start moving! 

Standing around won’t get them anywhere. She grabs his foreleg and rolls over to loft him on her back, clumsily keeping him in place with her wings. The constant beating of rain coalesces into a buzz as she braces her core, then lifts him fully. His body is still warmer than hers, though who knows how long for. She steadies herself, leaving the patch slowly so she doesn’t drop him. Once they’re out of the moss, she looks around, picks a direction, then goes. They’ll orient themselves in the morning. None of that matters for now. He needs…

She’s tired. So tired. She felt exhausted to death an hour ago. What is she supposed to do though, besides continuing? But her legs burn under her, not used to the extra weight. She stops. She can’t. She has to stop. Keep going! If she takes another step she’ll collapse! She glances around once more, finally spotting their salvation: near its base, one of the trees is somewhat hollow. Her eyes barely work anymore, she could scream, she would if she wasn’t afraid to draw attention to themselves.

She puts a leg forward, her knees buckling. Then another, and another. They’re so close, she can do it! Just make it there and it’s over! As her paw touches the ground, though, she slips. Her leg collapses at the knee, feeling about as if it snapped cleanly in half. She falls to the ground, Spyro landing on her back with a heavy thump. 

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Her. He needs her.

She gets out from under him, screaming in anger. Amidst the booming rainfall, though, it is barely audible. She gets up and bites on his collar again, pushing against the ground with all her might. She tugs at his body, slowly inch by inch dragging him towards shelter. Don't you dare! Step by muddy step she pulls him to the tree, leaving a heavy trail behind them. 

She checks inside the hole, making sure it’s empty. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then lifts him up by the collar. His neck is noticeably colder than before. Please, we're right there, just a little more! She falls forward, dropping him back on the ground and yanking herself with him. Come on! Work!

She gets up and tries again. Her muscles burn anew as she pushes far past what she thought her limits would be. His upper half finally makes it in, his legs flopping down the edge. She tucks them inside, then, feeling as if her body was made of lead, gets in the hole herself with a heavy hop and drags his body up. That was it. She can’t take it. She collapses to her knees, even the effort of reaching forward seems nigh impossible. She scoops his tail inside, then flops down next to him. 

He's inside.

She allows herself the privilege of catching her breath for a moment. Not done yet. She pushes herself to her knees again, then grabs him to flip him over, rolling him deeper inside the hole. She climbs over him to be on the outside herself. She pushes her head into him, bit by bit nudging him into the innermost nook of the hole. His limpness is plainly obvious, but she cannot bear to think about that right now. 

The moment she’s satisfied, she collapses again next to the opening. Her face eases as her struggle is finally over. She takes a moment to catch her breath. She can’t rest, though. She has to make sure: she puts a knuckle to his neck. Please. She’s expecting at least a faint warmth to course through her digit. Her efforts are met by nothing but the same cold that the rain is, and she is. 

Please…

She holds her breath. Come on…

Lub-dub

She feels the faint beat of his heart, slowed almost to a halt. 

She breathes in relief. He’s… He will be… fine. She did it. Right? They’re in an awful predicament, but they live. That’s all that matters. For now they live.

Lub-dub

The violent beating of the storm has faded into a blunter, almost pleasant noise against the wood. Even laying down she has begun to feel dizzy. 

Lub-dub

She’s not about to pass out though. She can tell. She’s about to be gone, but that’s just sleep. And he will be fine.

Lub-dub

She should turn towards the opening. It’ll be easier to hear and see if anybody is approaching. She should...

Lub-dub

She closes her eyes. She has no energy left to turn around.

Lub-dub

They need rest. She puts a wing over her face, already halfway to sleep.

Lub-dub

Cynder is jolted awake by something stirring next to her. Her eyes shoot open, ready to face the danger and-

The purple blob in front of her is thankfully the farthest thing away from danger. She stops trying to get up, no need to worry.

Wait, he woke up!

“Spyro?”

“Whblm…?” He asks.

She pauses.

...

“What?”

She just woke up, that must be it.

“Wlmh?” He tries to repeat.

What.

She pushes herself to her knees and gets closer. Oh no… Oh no no no… She puts a paw on his chest as she sits on her hind legs.

“Shh, it’s okay. You had a very rough fall. Does anything still hurt?” she asks him.

“Mlhmwm.” He answers very helpfully.

“Okay, just, I can’t understand what you’re saying."

"Wkhmm?"

"Spyro, I-, Can you… point?”

He takes a moment, but eventually his wing trembles for a second.

“There it hurts? Can you understand what I’m saying?”

He faintly nods.

Oh thank the ancestors. He has to see a healer as soon as possible regardless.

“Cyhh… Whahlm…” He begins again.

“Okay that’s…” she sighs “...better, are you asking what happened?”

He nods again.

“You had a rough fall. We were trying to land and you crashed into a tree, then fell all the way down. We’re lucky that there’s so much moss in this dense forest, it broke your fall somewhat.”

He does not answer, in fact he doesn’t even move at all. 

“Okay, let’s see if you can still move every limb. Can you try to wiggle around? Only for a moment.”

He hesitates, then one by one extends each of his legs, then wings, then tail. He begins straining against the wood under him for a moment, trying his best to turn around. She holds him down gently by the shoulders, easily matching his disoriented force. “No, no no. Not yet. You need to rest. At least a little longer.”

He looks displeased at the notion, but voices no arguments to counter. He flops back down at her request.

“Wham.. hammnd..” He asks.

“Are you… asking what happened?”

He nods.

“I just… um…” Did he just… forget? “You fell. Hard. We crashed. But we’re safe for now.” Her voice trails off. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Mm.”

Oh what have I done? This better pass fast!

She turns around to face the entrance. She lays back down, but keeps her eyes open. She tries to, at least. She can’t help but be lulled back to sleep, every blink making her eyelids stick more and more. The rhythmic beating of the raindrops against the wood, finally another moment of peace.

“Cynder?” She’s jolted awake once more, feeling like seconds had passed, but for all she knows it could have been hours.

An actual word! Okay, good. She turns towards him inquisitively.

“What happened?” he asks.

She takes a long pause to consider her words. Maybe telling him he’s having memory issues would just freak him out more. And it’s not like he would remember anyway…

“We crashed. You fell hard, but now we’re okay. Try to rest, please.”

“No, no I can get up, we just… we need to keep flying right? We were flying.” he says as he rolls over onto his stomach, stumbling trying to get up.

“Oh no you don't! You can’t even stand straight, nevermind flying!”

She gets up and in his face, and he freezes in place before he slowly lies back down.

"We need to stay here, give you time to recover from this fall." 

"I'm pretty sure we could keep flying right now," he insists with a grin.

"Well, we won't. We'll stay here at least a little longer." She says before plopping down by the entrance, looking towards the forest as the rain tortures the dirt into mud.

"Let's try to get some more sleep before we continue!" She instructs, before laying her head down, keeping an ear out to check if he'll do the same. Once he does, finally she closes her eyes and tries her best to keep sleeping. 

A slight clicking sound cuts through the noise of the rain, alerting her. She picks up her head, surveilling the area. Something just moved outside! She spotted it just barely in the corner of her eye. Finally she spots something red against the everpresent greenery: wyverns! Her heart was racing already at the possibility, and adrenaline is rushing through her veins. They cannot take a fight right now. That’d spell death.

The wyverns are hovering around inquisitively, following the trail they left in the mud. 

“Spyro. Spyro!" She shakes him to wake him up. "Okay, change of plans! We’re gonna fly. Right now.” She knows he needs time to recover, but they don’t have that. Time is one of many things they are severely lacking right now.

He opens his eyes and looks at her excited. “Okay! We can… we fly so much, we can fly. We’re… I’m ready, we can…”

“Okay, let’s go then!” She jumps out of the hole, looking back towards him expectantly. 

He stumbles his way out in a few seconds, by then the red beasts have surrounded them. He looks at her then smiles, looking around. Okay, I guess we’ll fight. Or rather I will.

She slows her breathing to steel her nerves. They’re not doing anything yet, just circling the two. They do begin looking towards each other after a moment though, most likely noticing Spyro’s aloofness, and her lack of offense. 

They know. She knows they know. At least two would have gone down already under normal circumstances. They can tell something is wrong.

Finally one makes up its mind and charges in. It swings at her to no avail, she’s out of the way long before it could ever make contact, and without a moment of hesitation has already slashed at its side. Bone crunches as her tail whips into the creature, sinking deep into its-

She's thrown into the mud as another one has crashed into her, smothering her with its weight. She claws at its back to no avail, it refuses to budge. The others jump at the opportunity to wail on her, going straight for the throat! She throws her wing between herself and it: the attack carves into the webbing, instantly her blood is rushing out the opening, spraying around! Another one drops straight on her as well, claws sinking into her flesh.

She yelps in pain, she would if she had air in her lungs, but the squeeze on her chest is getting tighter. She cannot move her limbs properly, the pain is almost immobilizing! Her chest starts to hurt as she tries her best to force air into it, opposing the bone crushing pressure.

This cannot be it!

She pushes at the beast on her with all her might, its grip loosening, but the others are charging in!

Spyro...

Light floods her, overwhelming her retinas. She closes her eyes and shields her face, and all at once the pressure on her chest disappears. Its sound is blaring, but silent. It’s not louder than anything else, yet it cuts everything else off. The next attack she was already bracing for is yet to connect. After a few seconds it stops, and she finally peeks out from behind her wing. 

The ones circling her are gone. She looks around and their bodies are nowhere to be found either. To her right is Spyro breathing hard, the air around him a faint purple. He looks up at the remaining assailants, then opens his mouth, unleashing a thick beam of… purple. All other noises are oppressed by its droning.

After a second, he hits one of the attackers. As if it wasn’t even there, the beam just goes straight through. It makes no sound, doesn’t struggle against it for a moment, and as much as she expects a body, or at least a skeleton to drop from the sky, not even that remains. 

He swings around wildly, vaguely aiming in the right directions. He slowly waddles backwards towards Cynder, felling trees and demolishing rock. One by one, in but a short few moments, their attackers are gone. He looks around to be sure none remain. After seeing no movement, he looks down at her, the purple haze around his eyes fading.

She can do nothing but stare back as he stares at her. He says nothing. There isn’t anything he could. Once the purple aura around him has disappeared, she gets up. She looks around, not even the tiniest bits remain of their attackers.

It takes her a moment to realise, but the rain has stopped. Spyro is looking at her expectantly, as if she's supposed to know what has happened.

The wound on her wing has stopped bleeding already.

She cannot come up with anything to say. 

“We can keep flying.” she says as she takes off, hovering in the air, waiting for him to do the same.

By our ancestors, what was that?

Shortly after reaching traveling height, the wind picks up. A nice and comfortable backwind to assist them on their way. It is no longer a struggle to fly, and the sun has even come up. No cold to worry about, no bad weather to weigh them down. 

Genuinely what happened?

Her thinking is cut short by a sudden change of scenery. The green has faded away, replaced by an ashy grey. As far as she can see, the entire forest was burned down. 

This is them cutting off supply lines. They have to be close!

And indeed they are. It doesn’t take much longer for the top of the walls of the dragon city to appear on the horizon.

“We’re almost there. How are you feeling?” she asks him.

He hesitates in answering her. “Better…” he begins. “My brain feels… foggy. And I can tell that I’m a bit slow.” That’s… “But at least I can tell that something is wrong now..” …hm. Yeah, better, actually.

She turns back around, her gaze falling on an army, banging on the walls of the city. They’re actively preparing what are possibly their war machines for deployment, and trying to surround the city to cut off all entrances. 

No rest yet.