Spyro flapped his wings once, launching himself up just as the two chompies lunged for him. Instead of hitting him, they simply crashed into each other, making it easy for him to slam them with his head; knocking them out. The next five chompies tried a different tactic, surrounding him and taking turns attacking, trying to keep him on his toes while tiring him out. This worked, until he spat a fireball at and roasted four of them. He turned his attention to the Chompy Pod that continued to breed chompies at an alarming rate, already the four he'd killed had been replaced by five more. Charging through with his head he knocked the six chompies out of his way, using his horns to bash them out of his way. He circled the pod, blasting fireballs and looking for a weak spot. Eventually one of his blasts caught a root, and the fire spread throughout the plant, killing it. Spyro turned towards the few remaining chompies and growled at them.
"You should probably run now," he snarled. The chompies fled immediately leaving the village they'd been ransacking eerily empty.
A cheer broke out, which was quickly taken up by the Mabu townspeople who sprang from their hiding places like pressurized water. Spyro huffed tiredly, but smiled at the people he'd just saved. He'd been doing so for over a year now, flying to the nearest villages and assisting them when he could. His main duties included fighting off bandits, saving lives, helping cleanup from natural disasters. All of it brought pride to the small dragon's heart. They'd offered him gold at one point, but he politely refused. Saying that just knowing he could help was good enough for him.
He tried to leave, like he always did, saying he had to get going. The villagers would have nothing of it though, insisting that their savior stay for a feast at the very least. He agreed wholeheartedly, fighting chompies was hard work, and followed the badger-like people into their town.
A few hours later, spyro was flying back home, groaning at the pain in his stomach, a satchel with leftovers tied to his back. Maybe i should have stopped after the first half of the cake. His stomach gurgled. Or the pot roast. He banked a sharp turn, soaring towards the cave he had come to call his home. Landing at the edge, he unhooked the satchel and held it in his jaws. The scent made him forget his stomach trouble, and caused his mouth to water. He carefully placed the bag on the floor, and lit a fire in the middle of the cave. Spyro shivered a bit,and waited for the fire to warm him before laying down to sleep. The gentle sound of water, dripping into the small reservoir he'd dug, lulling him to sleep. He dreamed of his mother, and his father. He wasn't sure how he knew what they looked like. But when he saw these faces in his head he knew them to be his parents. He dreamt about what could have been, if they had not been killed. If the towns had not taken him in. But most of all he dreamt of destiny. Of fighting for a purpose far greater than what he'd been fighting for.
Eon gazed out into the window he'd created. It seemed to show a lone spyro bedding down for the night. As if the window opened in Spyro's cave from Eon's home. Eon's heart went out to the young dragon. He knew how it felt to be alone, to have no one. His feelings of sympathy, were rivaled by his feelings of happiness. He'd finally found the last of the purple dragons. The mythical, magical, breed of dragons that had thought to have been lost hundreds of years ago. Only a few had remained, Clarea and Trist'tan, Spyro's parents, were just two that he knew of. Then the reports came in, they had been killed, and their egg had been lost, possibly stolen from them. That had been 17 years ago. He'd searched for the son of the dragons he'd considered his best friends for as long as he could. Finding as many of the purple dragons race that he could. That was how he'd learned of Malefor's plan to eradicate the purple dragons from existence. Redoubling his efforts, Eon searched for the young purple dragon as the others died. He wished he could help them, but the purple dragons' had been stubborn, insisting they could protect themselves. Now they were all gone...
All but one.
Fixed up a few typos and added a few lines to the story. Also trying to invest more of my time into my writing. Just got a figment account by the way right over here, /users/348501-WindWolfe144 so check that out if you're interested