Hi, and welcome to my first ever fan-fiction. I hope you will enjoy it. Critics are welcome as well as advices. If you find some errors(which are probably there somewhere) tell me.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, except for the OCs.

-Azotac

Silence.

It was the only thing that she could hear.

Silence.

It took her sometime to reconnect to the real world, to regain her senses, to come back from that state of apparent sleep. Her head pounding like a drum and her mind rushing like water in a river.

Memories of the last day quickly floated up as she slowly pushed her emerald eyes open.

The gentle sun of a majestic dawn was spreading its brightness all over Cynder's surroundings, engulfing her obsidian figure with pure light. For a moment she felt at peace. Calmly she glanced the ambient she found herself in: a lush vegetation was growing all around her, the soft grass gently caressed her underbelly scales, moved by a gentle yet refreshing breeze coming from north. Cynder, still numb from all the recent events, managed to raise her head up, giving her surroundings a more accurate scan, before checking on herself. She pleasantly found that apart from some scratches and bruises, her body was still in good shape. Her pitch black scales, although covered in dust and dried blood, still managed to reflect the sunlight.

Pleased to find herself all in one piece, she tried to stand up, but quickly found herself collapsing under her own weight, all her muscles burning and contracting from exhaustion.

Frowning she gave herself a minute to regain her forces back, with a more accurate look at the environment she finally stated that she was in the Avalar Valley, which was beautiful as usual.

Her eyes fell on a small flower that was growing not too far from her. Its petals were of a brilliant purple with a slight touch of indigo at the very end of them, while the centre shifted to a noble golden-yellow. She lost herself, gazing at that beautiful exemplar, contemplating the majestic violet petals. Then a sensation, an odd feeling rose through her, slapping Cynder out of her trance. In her mind there was only a word, a name. Spyro.

How, how could have she forgotten her best friend, her loved one, for all this time. She quickly jolted up from her prone shape, darting up in the sky and not caring of all her body screaming in pain.

Cynder rose up in the air, ganging height to have a better view of her surroundings, squinting her eyes in search of her beloved purple dragon.

Her head now full of thoughts, as her heart beat grew faster and faster. "Spyro, where are you" she thought to herself, as an horrible felling creeped in her chest. "He counted on me and I abandoned him. What if he's injured ,what if he's…No it can't be…". Spyro couldn't be dead, but that feeling was growing more and more, becoming fear and terror.

Riding the northern wind she headed south, knowing that there was a river, "Maybe Spyro could have stopped there for rest and drink", she tried to convince herself, shoving away the uncontrollable fear that was menacing to tear her down from the sky.

After thirty eternal and painful minutes of research along the river bank, her eyes caught a purple figure laid on the soft sand near the water. Her heart leapt out of her chest for the joy. She found him! "SPYRO!" she called, diving down to the riverside, she called his name more and more, but no movement of acknowledgement were emitted by the purple figure.

She landed abruptly over the soft sand that slowed down her fall. She quickly pushed her exhausted body to the the dragon that was laying in front of her.

Spyro was staying on his right side giving his back to Cynder which nudged him gently on the forehead. "Spyro…" she called softly pushing her muzzle over his, but quickly retracted when her nose caught an odd and acre smell. She grasped her snout with her paw looking horrified, but when she gazed at her paw, horror became pure terror. A dense and too familiar liquid was infecting her senses. Blood. Spyro's blood was on her paw, her eyes shifted quickly from her limb to the purple dragon, as her face tinged with a silent scream.

A single streamline of blood was running down Spyro's nose, with another one more prominent, flowing from the corner of his mouth.

Panic took control of her she started screaming. Her worst fear has become reality.

She tried to keep herself from screaming any louder but it was vane. Tears bursted out like a waterfall from her emerald eyes as she moved close to Spyro's limp body curling near him and covering it with her wing.

Her sorrow was stopped only by a sound, a low noise coming from his body, as Spyro's flank raised slowly and unevenly before falling again.

Cynder hushed instantly to catch more of that sound, she couldn't believe herself. He was breathing.

She quickly put her paw over her hero's neck, as hope was returning to her. Then she felt it: a slow, feeble and uneven beat.

He was alive. Cynder took another moment to process all, while inspecting her friend's body. There were a lot of bruises and scratches just like on her, but shortly after she noticed that his right wing was crushed under his body, and his right hind leg stood in an abnormal position.

He was alive, but just barely.

With all her strong will she managed to take Spyro's body on her shoulders and slowly took flight . Her wings carrying them to the only presumed safe place: Warfang.