Wanderer
Chapter 1
Author's Note: I do not own Spyro or any characters owned by respective companies. This story takes place in an alternate world.
He loved the warmth of the sun. It felt liberating and pleasant. The warmth caressed his scales and seeped through to his skin. As he walked through the forest, down the path, he reveled in it and the scents that wafted throuh the air. He could smell the flowers, the fresh earth, the insects, and the odors that the earth produced.
As he moved deeper through the woods, the young dragon felt joy. In his heart, on the road, this was where he belonged. Ever since he had awoken, he had been wandering and wandering. Place to place, he moved. He didn't feel comfortable in just one dwelling or abode. His heart hungered for life abroad.
While he walked, Spyro let his thoughts wander. He wondered what purpose the universe had for him, how he would shape the lives of others, and where the road would take him next. He didn't see himself as special, unique, or extraordinary. He was a dragon, a wanderer, and a youngster in the world.
The path through the forest continued on and on. It cut past tall oaks and birches. It wove its way through the berry bushes and mushroom patches. When the path forked, Spyro paused and considered the routes before him. The leftmost was narrow and strewn with more shrubs and mushrooms. The rightmost was wide and decorated with small white and blue flowers.
"Left or right huh?" Spyro murmured aloud. "Shouldn't be hard to choose."
Minutes passed. Spyro swiveled his head back and forth. He looked between the two routes. Then, he turned to the leftmost path and started down it. Can't dwell on it too longer. There's more for me ahead, he told himself.
Late in the day, Spyro stopped to rest at a stream. He had walked the path for three and a half hours. He had pushed his way through. Gnats buzzed in his face. Briars stuck his paws. Twice he had stumbled and fell over a tree root. Though troubles had come, he complained little and focused on the lessons he had learned.
Lying on his stomach, Spyro lay his head on his paws. He looked at the smooth rippling surface. The stream flowed past him. It carried leaves and twigs and pebbles. In its surface, he could see his purple face, his muzzle, his ridged horns, and his fangs. He was only but 14 years old and looked like he had been living in the wild his entire life.
He didn't mind how he looked. He felt alive and well, and that counted more. For several minutes, he stared down at the stream before closing his eyes.
Somewhere, out in this great world, I have a destiny, he told himself. But what is it?
Rustling sounds awoke Spyro. He snapped his eyes open, and his head jerked up. He looked around him and noticed shrubs behind him shaking violently. Forcing himself upright, he wheeled around to face the unknown force and growled. Something or someone had found him, and he did not know if it was friend or foe.
He remembered the last time he had been attacked. It had been a wild boar, and it had tried to gore him for invading its territory. The experience had scared him and excited him at the same time. It left an imprint on his mind. He had received wounds and bruises for the experience, but he managed to slay the boar and continue his wandering.
Spyro watched the shrubbery. The rustling grew wilder. A menacing snarl came from beyond the leaves and twigs. It was something different, something otherworldy. The rustling increased and a form stalked into the open. It was four-legged beast, one that looked mad and hungry.
The beast had a stout body. Fur covered its body and spines protruded from its head. Four eyes glared out at Spyro with murderous intent. Talons raked the earth and grass as the beast aimed for the young purple dragon. The beast was ready to attack, and he knew that he had to defend himself.