A small scene of what happened before Cynder attacked the men.
Cynder exhaled with a heavy weight, her jaded eyes flickering to the fiery nest. The flame appeared to illuminate the shadows upon her face, and cast her shadow upon the wall that seemed to show her true nature.
Worry caused her thin crests to crease, for her mate had not returned in several hours, and the fires upon her nest were smoldering. What if something had happened to her mate? What if the humans had slain another of her kind? It was a thought she could not bear. Spyro could not die; he was her mate and father of their clutch. He could not die, for then she would be all alone, and her eggs would die without their father's warmth. Surely the Ancestors were not that cruel.
Her fears licked at her mind like the flame from her nest, the Terror picking up the faint sound of wings on the wind. She released a sigh she did not realize she withheld as the scraping of claws against stone echoed throughout the cavern.
Out from the darkness approached her noble mate, adorned with the royal colors of purple and gold. Her amethyst orbs flicked to his beloved, then quickly to the dying flames. His eyes shown with worry, and failure-something that Cynder had seen before he had even spoke.
"I'm sorry, Cynder. I'll try harder next time." Spyro replied, voice soft, as if ashamed that he did not return with quarry. Cynder shook her head, "It is alright, love."
Spyro looked upon her, as if skeptical, "How is my failure to provide for you okay?"
"You are safe, Spyro. And you came back here to where our children need you. As do I." She replied, watching the male approached, inspecting the nest before his maw exploded with the roar of flame. The stone nest burned black, yet the eggs within were safe and warm.
"I will try harder next time." Spyro repeated, watching the fire dance and cast shadows along the walls. Once more Cynder shook her head.
"Spyro, you are overworking yourself. I will take the next hunt."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Besides, our eggs need you." Cynder replied, looking at the purple drake, whom slowly approached and lay beside her with a heavy thud.
"Everything is fine, Spyro. Don't worry." Cynder assured softly, nuzzling his jaw as she felt a strong wing envelope her lithe form, tails intertwining, moving as one.
"So you say. We could be the last." Spyro muttered darkly, holding her closer as his larger paw rested upon her more fragile, smaller one.
"Don't think like that." Cynder firmly shushed him, nuzzling his snout, "There is always hope. So long as we have out children, there is hope. We still have something to fight for, Spyro-you and I."
"...I suppose you are right." Spyro spoke after several second's pause, the black wyrm releasing a low, sultry chuckle, "Of course I am right. When am I wrong?"
Spyro paused, as if in thought, "Hmmm, let me think..."
"Quiet you." Cynder snapped, playfully nipping at his snout, "Ow. That hurt."
"Awe, did I hurt my purple dragon?" Cynder cooed, gently pushing against the purple male, whom relented his protest and rolled upon his back, the dragoness dominant, red and gold chest touching.
"Yes. You are mean. I hope our children don't take after you." Spyro playfully whined, Cynder rolling her emerald orbs, though chuckled.
The pair then fell silent, their breaths falling into sync as the couple remained in their simple position, eyes locking. There was no need for words. His orbs shown with the majestic mountains in the skies, a rising son painting the clouds a brilliant purple. Her orbs shown with the tenderness of a forest, fertile and nourishing. Hope and love were the words they did not need to speak, for their eyes spoke more than their tongues ever could.
Cynder stared upon her mate, get knew time was of the essence with obtaining a meal. Regretfully, she broke his gaze, "I will go and hunt."
"So soon?" Spyro questioned, Cynder nodding as she briefly nuzzled him, getting up, "Of course. We will only get weaker as time goes on. We cannot fail our children, Spyro."
"No, we won't. We can't fail, Cynder." Spyro replied, Cynder nodding slightly, "With the Ancestors to guide us, we will be safe."
The black wyrm approached the cave's exit, her powerful wings stretching, yet once more her mate beckoned her, "Cynder."
"Yes, Spyro?" She asked, her lean neck turning towards her beloved, Spyro standing, "I just...good luck, and be careful."
"Don't worry, Spyro. I can handle myself. You just focus on our children." Cynder replied, taking off into the sky with one powerful stroke of her wings.
Spyro watched her soar off into the distance, sighing. He naturally worried about Cynder and their offspring, yet even though he feared for them, he know everything would be fine. He knew Cynder would be safe. The Ancestors could not be that cruel.
I'm not sure if I will write the fight in her point of view, seeing as it will just be rewritten, but I think Cynder needs some justification as to why her actions took place. Thank you for reading!