2.

A cool breeze swept through the Valley of Avalar, rustling the emerald leaves of the trees and causing the grass to gently sway. The river lapped softly at the banks as it flowed on through the centre of the valley, a blue snake winding itself through the earth. Somewhere, hidden in the foliage, a bird trilled its high-pitched song. Without warning, the serenity was broken as a thin spear crashed into the river with a startling splash.

Before the spear could fall and disappear into the waters, its owner deftly leapt the sizeable gap across the river and snatched it up as he landed on the opposite bank. Shaking sparkling droplets of water from his fur, the cheetah inspected the end of his spear – and the silvery fish wriggling feebly on the spear-point.

"Good shot, Hunter!" called a voice from across the river.

The golden-furred cheetah glanced up at his friend and grinned as he plucked the dying fish from the end of his spear. It ceased its feeble struggles as Hunter put it out of its misery with a strike to the head with the butt of his spear. He then added that fish to the two others already hanging from his belt, tied by their shimmering tails.

"That makes three," he called to Meadow, who was watching him from the opposite bank, "How many did you have again?"

The darker furred cheetah would have blushed if he could as he held up the tiny fish in his paw. It wasn't much bigger than his palm, miniscule compared to the three that Hunter had plucked from the river.

"Guess my fishing skills could use some work," Meadow chuckled merrily, hoisting his spear over his shoulder, "Shall we head back, then?"

Hunter glanced at the sun, gauging the time by its position in the sky. He shielded his aqua eyes from the glare and deduced that it was just past midday.

"Yes, I want to get a good meal in before we set out for Warfang," he told Meadow, already turning towards the village, "I wanted to leave before midday, but we should still be able to reach the city before nightfall."

"Have you ever been to a dragon festival before?" Meadow asked as he and Hunter strolled casually through the forest towards the cheetah village. The roaring of falling water washed over them as they passed by the waterfall.

"Never," Hunter shook his head, "But it should be interesting. And it will be good to see Spyro again."

Meadow agreed wordlessly, nodding his head as he pondered what exactly a dragon festival entailed. His eyes strayed to the sparse trees along the river banks and he caught sight of grey fur hidden beneath a tatty old cloak. Surprised, Meadow stopped in his tracks to stare. Hunter walked right past him, but had only taken a few steps before he noticed that his companion had halted.

"Something wrong, Meadow?" Hunter strode back to his friend's side.

Meadow pointed a claw at the opposite bank, "is that…?"

Hunter stared at the figure that Meadow was pointing too, and was just as surprised to see who it was.

"The old hermit," he muttered, watching as the figure tottered slowly along the bank.

The hermit was an old grey-furred cheetah that usually lived in a hidden cave beyond the waterfall. He was old and grizzled, and always wore a tattered old cloak that hid his golden eyes in shadow. Hunter followed the hermit's progress with his eyes, watching as he weaved around trees and bushes, leaning upon an old and battered staff that was just as tall as he was.

"What's he doing out here?" Meadow wondered aloud, sounding rather befuddled.

"Who knows," Hunter observed the old grey cheetah with a suspicious eye, "It's not often he leaves his cave. I haven't seen him out here for a long time."

In silence they stood and watched the hermit until he and his tattered cloak were lost to sight amongst the trees. Sighing, Hunter shook his head as though to wake himself from a trance. He shouldered his spear once more and continued on towards the village.

"Come," he called back to Meadow, "Let the old one go about his business. He's harmless, anyway. Let's get back to the village."

But Meadow hesitated briefly before he tore his eyes away from the bushes where the hermit had disappeared. Something about that old cheetah was creepy, and Meadow didn't like it one bit. He'd always lived in solitude, so why would he come out now? Meadow wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, the orange-furred cheetah hurried after Hunter as the village came into view through the trees.

The main courtyard was a bustle of activity. Spyro and his friends had followed Sparx there after the dragonfly had said that help was needed to set up the market place. They paused at the edge of the courtyard, watching as the moles dashed hither and thither with handfuls of nails, long planks of wood over their shoulders, or sheets of canvas spilling out of their paws. Several of the stalls had already been set up around the edge of the courtyard, shaded by canvas awnings.

There were several dragons helping, and Spyro spotted several familiar faces amongst the crowd. He could see Chios, the pale green earth dragoness, helping a pair of moles erect another awning over a small wooden stall. Spyro was about to make his way towards her, when he was almost bowled over by another larger dragon.

"Whoa, watch yourself there, Spyro!" said a cheery voice, and Spyro looked up into the startling blue eyes of the electricity dragon Naxos. The yellow dragon had three thick planks of wood held in place on his back by his strong electric-blue wings.

"Sorry, Naxos, I didn't see you there," Spyro grinned at his larger friend, "You helping too, huh?"

"You betcha," the yellow dragon shifted his wings slightly, causing the planks to wobble, "We've got a deadline to meet! Gotta be done by tomorrow!"

Spyro opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Sparx, who had disappeared before and had just reappeared again, waving his twiggy arms impatiently.

"Alright, move along, move along!" the dragonfly insisted, ushering Naxos away, "No time for chit-chat!"

Naxos snorted Sparx out of his face, "Alright, alright, keep your wings on! See ya 'round, Spyro!"

The electricity dragon moved on, only to collide with a red dragon that had suddenly stepped into his path. The red dragon's cargo, two planks of wood, crashed to the ground as he stumbled.

"Watch it!" Delos snapped angrily, only receiving a cheeky grin from Naxos in return.

"My bad," Naxos winked and weaved around the angry fire dragon, leaving Delos to pick up his own planks.

Muttering, the red dragon did so with a very annoyed expression. He spotted Spyro standing a few meters away, and nodded in recognition.

"Hey, Spyro," Delos greeted, steadying the planks of wood on his back with his wide black wings, "Love to stay and chat, but we've got things to do, y'know?"

And then he too turned around and continued on his way through the crowd. Spyro couldn't help but smirk. The courtyard really was a bit hectic at the moment. He turned around to look for Cynder and saw her following Zephira and Saffron through the crowd. A mole struggling with an awning waved them over, and they hurried to help. Ember trotted after them, leaving Flame and Spyro alone.

"Now what?" Flame asked, clearly not a fan of crowds. He glared as a mole almost ran into him.

"Maybe we should-," Spyro began, only to be cut off yet again as a bundle of canvas was dropped onto his head. He stumbled, startled, and lifted his head back, allowing the canvas to slip down onto his shoulders. Flame appeared to have been given similar treatment. He was looking very disgruntled with a bundle of canvas weighing his head down.

"Carry these, would you, boys?" said the mole responsible for their sudden cargo. A pair of odd, metallic goggles sat upon his furry forehead, just above his beetle-black eyes.

"Mason!" Spyro grinned at the familiar mole, "Where are we taking them?"

Mason beckoned with a small paw, "Follow me."

Flame snorted a disgruntled puff of smoke, but followed anyway. The two male dragons weaved in and out of the crowds, until Mason stopped in front of an awning-less stall. Two other moles were already erecting the wooden poles for the awning.

"Come here," Mason beckoned to Spyro, and the purple dragon trotted closer. The mole grabbed the canvas off the dragon's shoulders and, with the help of the purple dragon, stretched it between the two poles to form an awning. It was secured with several strong pieces of rope.

"Over here," Mason trotted over to the next stall, this time taking Flame's load and erecting another awning.

The two dragons and the mole were just admiring their handiwork, when a sudden crash startled them from across the courtyard. Several female dragons screamed as two adjacent stalls crashed to the ground, the canvas awning fluttering down as the poles were knocked off balance. Three young dragons tumbled head over heels into the middle of the courtyard, tangled up in pieces of rope, their laughter ringing in the air.

Spyro groaned as he recognised the three dragons, resisting the urge to slap his paw against his own forehead. The moles were staring in horror at the two ruined stalls, while the three dragons rolled on the ground in peals of laughter. Saffron, Zephira, Cynder and Ember appeared on the scene, pushing their way through the crowd. The instant Saffron set her eyes on the three dragons, her whole body puffed in anger. Spyro sighed.

"Zannak!" Saffron shrieked, violet eyes burning with fury. The laughter of the three male dragons instantly stopped and they froze in place, piled on top of one another and tangled in rope and canvas.

The golden-yellow dragon, who was on the bottom of the pile, grinned sheepishly at his paler sister. His teal eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oops," Zannak smirked, jumping up as his two friends rolled off him.

"Run for it!" A blue dragon, one of Zannak's friends, yelled. He, Zannak, and the other dragon, a red one, instantly dashed through the startled crowd.

But Saffron was hard on their tails, looking angrier than ever, "Get back here, you idiots!"

The crowd parted to let her through and she chased them into the streets and out of sight, yelling all the way. A silence fell as they disappeared, broken only by the muttering of the moles as they tried to fix up the ruined stalls. Naxos and Delos moved to help as Spyro and Flame moved over to join Cynder, Ember and Zephira.

The black dragoness shook her head, "Those three again. You'd think they'd learn…"

Zephira sighed, "Ciro never learns. And neither does Kazan, it seems. I think Zannak's a bad influence on them; Saffron would agree with me."

Flame snorted, "Kazan's always like that. His head's too hot for his own good."

"Not unlike yours, huh?" Ember teased, nudging him playfully. Flame scowled and flicked his tail, but didn't reply.

"You'd think Ciro would be more like you, Zeph," Cynder suggested, "He is your brother."

But the wind dragoness brushed it off, "Well, what about Zannak? He's completely different from Saffron. It's because they're males, I think."

Cynder and Ember nodded in agreement, "that would make sense."

The two males, Spyro and Flame, exchanged glances. Sounding somewhat offended, they asked simultaneously, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Spyro, nothing," Cynder answered vaguely, before changing the subject, "Do you think Saffron will catch them?"

"No doubt," Zephira sounded as though she had seen this happen many times before, "Saffron's faster than all three of them. It's what she'll do when she catches them that worries me. We'd better go after her."

The wind dragoness trotted after her yellow friend, Ember and Cynder following behind. Spyro and Flame apologised to the moles who were mending the broken stalls, bid farewell to Naxos and Delos, and hurried after the females. It didn't take the group long to catch up to Saffron and the three troublemakers.

She had caught them just outside of the main hall, and was now yelling at them as they sat in front of her. Her voice was shrill with anger, but Ciro and Zannak merely grinned oafishly at her. Kazan, the crimson dragon, was glaring at Saffron with a very annoyed expression. He didn't seem nearly as amused as his two friends did.
"…always ruin everything!" Saffron was shrieking, "I'm ashamed to call you my brother! And you should know better, Ciro! You should set a better example for your sister! You're our older brothers, so why don't you start acting like it?"

"Would you just shut up?" Kazan snapped irately, "You're always yelling at us about something! I'll bet it's just 'cause you're annoyed about the whole guardian rule! Well, females can't become guardians and there's nothing you can do to change that! So quit taking it out on us!"

The yellow dragoness bristled with indignation, "That's got nothing to do with it, you oaf! And if you keep acting the way you are now, you'll never become a guardian either!"

Kazan was on his feet all of a sudden, his golden eyes burning with anger, "And who are you to tell us what to do, huh? We're older than you; we can do whatever we want, no matter what you say! So shutyourface!"

A piercing shriek rent the air as Saffron flung herself at Kazan. The electricity dragoness and the fire dragon rolled over each other, biting and scratching, as Zannak and Ciro jumped out of the way. They soon began to cheer the fighting dragons on, while Spyro and the others hurried to split them up.

"Not again," Zephira moaned, jumping out of the way as Kazan's lashing tail almost knocked her off her feet.

Saffron had pinned the fire dragon to the ground and was snapping at his neck, but Kazan was stronger than she was. He pushed his hind paws beneath her body and kicked hard, throwing her over his head and onto the cobblestones behind him. Cynder hurried forwards to intercept as Saffron tried to lash out at Kazan again. The black dragoness pushed the yellow dragoness backwards, ignoring her snapping jaws, while Flame and Spyro pulled the furious Kazan away.

Saffron struggled against Cynder, pushing her away with her forepaws, "Get out of the way! I'm going to kill him!"

Cynder stumbled as Saffron's tail whipped across her forelegs, and the yellow dragoness dashed past her. Kazan tore himself from Spyro's hold and met Saffron's charge with equal ferocity. Teeth clashed on teeth and claws scraped on claws as the two dragons each attempted to harm the other.

"Stop it!" Zephira yelled, though she knew they wouldn't heed her.

Zannak and Ciro weren't helping, either. The blue dragon was chanting 'fight, fight, fight!' over and over again, while Zannak was yelling encouragement to his sister.

"Go, Saff! Bite his head off!" the gold dragon laughed as dragons poured out of the main hall to watch the fight.

Shouts filled the air as the younger spectators yelled encouragement to their favourite. Neither Saffron nor Kazan seemed to notice their audience, though. Both were too intent on killing the other to notice anything other than their opponent. They scratched, snapped and snarled angrily, ignoring Zephira's cries to stop and Zannak's enthusiastic encouragement. Any moment now, Spyro knew that a guardian would hear the commotion and come storming over. They'd sure be in trouble then.

Scowling, the purple dragon suddenly forced his way between the fighting dragons and yelled as loud as he could, "Enough!"

His golden wings snapped out as a gust of cold air burst from his body, freezing both the ground and the two angry dragons to the spot. Huffing, Spyro refurled his wings and glared from one frozen dragon to the other. Saffron's violet eyes glared reproachfully at him, but she couldn't move an inch as she was encased in ice. Kazan was in a similar situation, only his face free from the ice, and he didn't look pleased at all.

"That will do," Spyro scowled, "There is no reason for you to fight! You're acting immature!"

Kazan snorted a puff of smoke, glaring at the purple dragon. Spyro turned his eyes to Saffron, but she only glared. Sighing, the purple dragon wondered what was to be done to stop these two from fighting.

"I'll release you if you promise to stop this fight," Spyro told them. He waited for a response, but Kazan only looked away, which was difficult as he couldn't move his head.

"Fine," Saffron spat, finding talking difficult as the bottom of her jaw was frozen and she couldn't move it.

"Good," Spyro took a deep breath and then released it, allowing warm air to seep from his jaws. The ice melted almost instantly, freeing the two disgruntled dragons.

Saffron stumbled from her prison of ice as it melted to water, and shook the droplets from her scales. Kazan did the same, glaring at her as he did so. But Spyro was pleased to see they didn't start the fight again. Disappointed that the action was over, the small crowd slowly disbanded.

"You ok?" Zephira asked her friend as she moved to Saffron's side. There was a scratch along the yellow dragoness's muzzle, but other than that she seemed unharmed.

"I'm fine," Saffron scowled, still glaring at Kazan.

"Hmph," the fire dragon snorted, and turned his back on her. Saffron bristled with anger, but Zephira's restraining paw on her shoulder stopped her from attacking.

Cynder glared at Ciro and Zannak, "You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Egging them on like that…they could have seriously hurt each other! Your own sister, Zannak!"

The gold dragon waved a dismissive paw, "Pfft, it was just a little fun. Right, Ciro?"

"Yeah," the blue ice dragon grinned, "We know they wouldn't hurt each other!"

"Don't count on that!" Kazan snapped, pushing past them with his head held high.

Cynder opened her mouth to say something reproachful, but Flame beat her to it. He planted himself in front of the darker red dragon with a challenging look in his eye.

"Don't think that fighting a girl is gonna make you any stronger than me, Kazan," Flame smirked, "I could still beat you into tomorrow."

Kazan's lip curled, "say that again!"

Flame snarled and strode forward until his nose was pressed up against Kazan's, "You – will – never – win. I'm stronger than you'll ever be."

A snarl ripped from Kazan's throat and he butted heads violently with Flame, "I will defeat you, and I will become Fire Guardian!"

He pushed past Flame and strode away, but Flame wasn't about to let him get away with the final word.

"Dream on! Maybe I'll make you my assistant one day!" Flame yelled, smirking, "You know, when I'm Fire Guardian!"

Ember nudged her mate, "Flame, don't antagonize him!"

Flame rolled his eyes but didn't answer. Kazan didn't turn around again and had soon disappeared around the corner. Zephira and Cynder were busy telling the other two off, but Ciro and Zannak didn't seem to care.

"Yeah, we get it," Ciro sighed, waving his younger sister away, "Chill, sis. We're just having some fun."

"Fun shouldn't involve disrupting others," Cynder snapped, her emerald eyes glinting angrily, "You ruined two stalls today! The moles have spent all day setting those up! You had no right to do what you did!"

"Alright, alright!" Zannak laughed softly, winked at his disgruntled sister, and turned away, "Won't happen again!"

He gave a flick of his black tailblade and strode away with Ciro at his side. Cynder glared after them, clearly irritated by their attitude.

"It had better not!" she yelled, but they didn't reply.

Spyro strode to his irate mate's side and nuzzled her neck gently. She sighed and leant her cheek on his neck, as though exhausted by all the yelling she'd done.

"Leave them be, Cyn," Spyro smiled, nuzzling her neck comfortingly, "They'll grow out of it eventually."

"But they're our age, Spyro!" she sighed, "You'd think they'd have grown out of it already!"

The purple dragon didn't know what to say to that. It was true that those three were troublemakers. Ever since they come to Warfang almost a year ago, Kazan, Ciro and Zannak had been more trouble than they were worth. Kazan had become Flame's rival for the position of Fire Guardian, and it seemed he was determined to get it. His scales were a much deeper crimson than Flame's, and his wings and underbelly were rich orange. Spyro had never thought he'd meet another dragon as hot-headed as Flame, but Kazan had proved him wrong.

Zannak, on the other hand, was Saffron's older brother. Spyro had never met a dragon more disruptive or mischievous as this electricity dragon. Unlike Saffron, Zannak's yellow scales were so rich they were almost gold. His underbelly and wings were black, but his bright teal eyes were what made him stand out from the crowd and branded him as a troublemaker. They always seemed to twinkle mischievously.

The last member of their little band was Ciro, the blue ice dragon. He was Zephira's older brother, but he didn't exactly act like it. He was as bad as Zannak, though half of that could be blamed on the electricity dragon. He could be sensible if he wanted to, but the trouble was that he never wanted to. Zephira wondered if he really was related to her, sometimes. He didn't even look remotely like her. His scales were bright blue, and his underbelly and wings were snow white. Even his eyes were different; emerald green as opposed to the bright purple of her irises.

Those three were the greatest of friends, though sometimes Kazan found himself a little out of place. The fire dragon wasn't nearly as playful as his two friends, and he and Saffron had never gotten along. Several times they had gotten into fights, only to be cheered on by Zannak and Ciro. The more they fought, the more they hated each other. And that didn't seem likely to change.

"Zephira," Saffron wondered aloud as they all wandered back to the main courtyard, "Why are our brothers such idiots?"

The wind dragoness paused before she answered, "I don't know, Saffron, I don't know."

Hunter tossed the fish bones into the fire once he had picked them clean of cooked flesh. He shouldered his bow and quiver of arrows, picked his spear up, and looked around for his travelling partner. Meadow was leaning against the wall of one of the huts, chatting to a blue-furred cat, a fish's skeleton swinging from his paw. His spear was propped up next to him.

"You ready, Meadow?" Hunter called after he had kicked the fire out.

The darker furred cheetah looked up and waved, letting Hunter know that he was ready. He then turned back to the cat he was chatting with, said a few inaudible words, and grabbed his spear.

"Leaving now, are you?" Hunter looked up in response to the voice and saw that Chief Prowlus was approaching him.

"Yes, we'll want to get there before nightfall," the golden cheetah patted his faithful spear and cocked an eyebrow at the chief, "Sure you don't want to come? It will be an interesting experience."

But Prowlus waved a paw, clearly unconvinced. Though he didn't mistrust dragons anymore, as he had done in previous years, he wasn't particularly fond of the scaly beasts.

"No, I'm quite sure," the chief wrinkled his nose in a way that made Hunter believe he was rather unimpressed by this whole festival idea, "Being allied with the dragons is one thing, but I don't particularly want to join in their celebrations. I can imagine it now; scaly creatures everywhere, chatting, dancing, doing whatever barbaric activities they usually do; little moles trying to keep up with them; young ones causing havoc as they weave around the legs of adults. No, no, I think I'll be fine right here."

Hunter couldn't help but chuckle at the disdain on Prowlus's face. The cheetah chief never did like younglings.

"Alright, you've made your point. We'll see you when we get back, then," Hunter was eager to get on his way. He hadn't been to the dragon city in a while, and it had been some time since he had last caught up with Spyro.

Prowlus looked around camp, counting how many cheetahs he could see, "How many are you taking with you?"

"Just Meadow and I, and about ten others. We'll be back in a week or so, though I may stay longer."

"An awfully long time for a festival, don't you think?" Prowlus seemed to be liking this festival less and less.

Hunter was about to answer when there was a sudden commotion from the entrance to the village. One of the guards on duty had suddenly gone ridged, as though alerted by something, his spear pointing towards the bushes as he called out, "Halt! Who goes there?"

The whole village stopped to watch as a figure emerged from the trees. His tattered cloak concealed most of his body and the hood over his head left only the tip of his greying muzzle showing. He leant heavily on an old, knobbly staff. Slowly, the old hermit limped his way forwards.

"I said halt!" the guard, a young blue cat, snapped importantly. But the cloaked hermit payed him no heed as he continued to stagger forwards.

When his order was ignored, the young guard chose to bar the entrance with his spear as he glared what seemed like a challenge at the old hermit. The hermit paused as his way was blocked, but soon raised his staff and locked it beneath the guard's spear. A high chuckle echoed from beneath his hood, sending shivers down the guard's spine.

"Move aside, young one!" the old cloaked cheetah ordered in a high, amused voice, "Or I may have to move you myself!"

The guard shuddered in response to the high-pitched grating voice, but he stood his ground and steadied his spear, "You do not have permission to enter our village! Step back and state why you have come here!"

He was answered by another high-pitched laugh and a few mysterious words, "You guard your village well, young one! But can you guard your chief?"

Confused, the guard hesitated and his concentration on his spear wavered, "…what?"

Taking advantage of the guard's sudden lapse in concentration, the old hermit pushed the spear out of his way with his staff. The guard staggered back, surprised by the hermit's unexpected strength. He drew back in alarm as the old cloaked cheetah raised a paw towards his face, unsheathing his claws. But the hermit merely let his paw hang in front of the guard's muzzle, the calloused pad of his paw almost touching the guard's nose.

"You should not be so confident," the old cheetah hissed mysteriously, and the guard felt a chill run down his spine as he met the hermit's shadowed golden eyes.

"That's enough!" Prowlus spoke suddenly. He and Hunter had hurried over to see what the fuss was about, and now the chief had decided it was time to intervene.

Prowlus strode forwards and placed a paw on the young guard's shoulder, firmly pushing him out of the way. The guard stumbled back, surprised by his chief's intervention, clutching his spear protectively to his body. The chief faced the hermit, whose golden eyes could now be seen in the shadow of the hood.

"Old one," Prowlus scowled, "I can not recall the last time I saw you outside your own domain. Why is it that you approach our village now? Is there something you wish to say? Speak!"

A brief silence fell in which the hermit seemed to scrutinise Prowlus with his sharp golden eyes. A smile was slowly etched across his grey, whiskery muzzle, and he emitted that characteristic high-pitched laugh once more. Prowlus looked almost offended, but Hunter could easily distinguish the disgust on his chief's face as he considered the deranged hermit.

"Do you have nothing to say, old one?" Prowlus snapped, losing his temper quickly.

"The arrogant chief will not be chief for long!" The hermit suddenly raised a paw, pointing one black talon at Prowlus's face, "When old acquaintances return, the village will lose its leader! Beware those banished for a thousand years! When revenge becomes reality, overconfidence will be your downfall!"

An uncomfortable silence fell in response to these strange and foreboding words. Hunter's grip on his spear tightened as he felt a shiver run down his spine. But Prowlus seemed completely unaffected by the hermit's statement.

"What nonsense are you babbling, old fool?" the chief snapped, knocking the hermit's paw away from his face, "Has your mind become befuddled in your time away from civilisation?"

The hermit only cackled in response, rocking on his feet as he gripped his staff with both paws. Hunter could tell that Prowlus was getting annoyed, and he stepped forwards in the hope that he might assist.

"Is that all you wish to tell us, old one?" Hunter asked the hermit, though he wasn't really expecting an answer.

"The ancient feud will resurface; those banished will return," The hermit wheezed, smiling a grizzled smile, "and a new chief will take the village under his claws!"

Still chuckling to himself, the old cloaked cheetah began to stagger away from the village. The guards moved to stop him, but Prowlus held his paw out.

"Let the old fool go. He's deranged," the chief muttered in disgust as he watched the hermit stagger away down the path into the trees.

"Beware the black ones…" was the last thing the old cheetah hissed before he disappeared into the bushes, leaving only the memory of his haunting, high-pitched laugh to linger in the air.

No one in the cheetah village spoke for a while after that. Many could still feel the hermit's haunting and mysterious words dampening the air around their huts. But Prowlus only seemed annoyed that such a deranged old creature dare walk on his soil. He turned on his heel, cloak swishing behind him, and strode back into the village with Hunter on his heels.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Hunter asked anxiously, slightly disturbed by the hermit's words.

"Nothing," Prowlus growled in response, "Merely the nonsensical words of a deranged fool. There's no use trying to find any sense in it. His mind has become foggy in his solitude."

Hunter was still a little unconvinced, but he let it slide. After all, Prowlus was the chief and it wasn't often that one dared question the chief. If Prowlus said the hermit's words were nonsense, then they must be nonsense. At least, that's what Hunter wanted to believe.

"I'm sure you're right," Hunter responded after a few short moments, "The old fool didn't know what he was talking about."

Prowlus nodded in approval, glad that Hunter saw things his way, "Good. Now, Hunter, didn't you have somewhere to be?"

"Of course!" the golden-furred cheetah jumped to attention, "I'll be off then! Meadow, are you coming?"

As Meadow and the other ten cheetahs that would be accompanying Hunter to Warfang made their way out of the village, Prowlus called one last thing to his favourite warrior.

"Tell me how it went, won't you, Hunter?"

Hunter laughed and waved as he left the village, "When I return, Prowlus! Maybe I'll bring you back a souvenir!"

But the cheetah chief only smiled wryly in response and watched as his best warrior and several others strode away from the village. The memory of the hermit still lingered in the back of his mind, but a few hours later it would be all but forgotten. He didn't even stop to ponder what the old cheetah's words could have meant.

However, all the way to Warfang, there was only one thing on Hunter's mind. Who were the 'black ones'?

The orange light of the sinking afternoon sun crept over the scales of the purple dragon as he lay relaxing on his balcony. Spyro hadn't been here for long; most of the afternoon had been spent setting up the market place. He found it quite a relief to finally sit down and give his tired paws a rest. But that rest was not to last for much longer.

"Spyro," Sparx hovered into Spyro's room calling the purple dragon's name. It sounded like he wanted something, "Oi, Spyro!"

Reluctantly, Spyro raised his head off his paws and turned to look as the dragonfly hovered onto the balcony. He knew that Sparx had been bound to show up sooner or later, but he had been hoping to gain at least a few hours of peace to himself. What did he want this time?

"Something wrong, Sparx?" the purple dragon queried.

The dragonfly folded his arms, "Old green stuff says he wants to see you about something."

Spyro didn't have to ask who 'old green stuff' was. Sparx always called Terrador that, whether the earth guardian liked it or not. Expelling a sigh, the purple dragon pushed himself to his feet. Like they say, he thought, there's no rest for the weary.

"He's waiting at the western courtyard," Sparx added as Spyro picked himself up.

"Thanks, Sparx," Spyro sighed, plodding towards the edge of the balcony and spreading his wings, "I'll be back soon. I hope."

The western courtyard was just below Spyro's room and he had a view of it from his balcony. As he leapt from his balcony and caught the wind beneath his wings, Spyro spotted the familiar form of Terrador down in the courtyard. The purple dragon glided down to meet him, wondering what it was that he wanted this late in the day.

"There you are, Spyro," the earth guardian greeted as Spyro touched down in front of him.

"You wanted to see me, Terrador?"

"Yes, Spyro, there is something very important that we need to talk about," Terrador replied, much to Spyro's rising curiosity, "You have been training well, haven't you? All four elements are now within your power. You can bend each of them to your will with as much skill as any guardian, as is the purple dragon's destiny."

Spyro stared. He wasn't sure what the earth guardian was getting at. For two days every week, Spyro would train with the guardians to hone his skills with the four elements. It was true that he had been training hard and was now stronger than ever, but what did Terrador need to see him about?

"I'm not sure I understand, Terrador," Spyro admitted, both curious and somewhat wary.

But the earth guardian didn't seem bothered by this, "Don't worry, Spyro, I merely wish to test something. Would you kindly step into the centre of the courtyard? I want you to give me a display of your elements."

Still curious, Spyro agreed and strode into the centre of the courtyard. Once there he turned to face Terrador and awaited further instructions. Was he to verse the dummies that he usually practiced on? He was half right.

"Watch your enemies closely, Spyro," Terrador said, "The puppets I am about to show you are different from the usual. Take note of them and decide which element would be best to defeat them, but if you take too long, you will be defeated. Use your instincts, Spyro. Are you ready?"

The revelation that these new dummies would be different, and perhaps even tougher, worried Spyro. He wasn't sure what to expect, or what was expected of him. But, nevertheless, he gave a sharp nod to tell Terrador that he was, mostly, ready. Then all he could do was steal his nerves and wait for the dummies to appear.

"Good," Terrador said simply, "Begin."

The cobblestones around Spyro crackled with energy as several large dummies seemed to appear out of thin air, surrounding him on all sides. Spyro stared at them. They were indeed different from any of the dummies he had fought previously. Rather than straw and fabric, these puppets seemed to be formed entirely of electricity. As arcs of voltage leaped from their bodies, Spyro could barely make out their ape-like forms. He only had a split second to take all of this in before they rushed him.

Alarmed, Spyro opened his mouth to spit fire at them, but remembered Terrador's words just in time. Decide which element would be best… and suddenly Spyro realised what to do. Instead of fire, a large blast of green energy and small rocks burst from his jaws. It struck the first dummy head on, disrupting the electricity that its body was formed of, and dispelled it. Emboldened by his success, Spyro destroyed the remaining dummies in seconds.

But he had no time to rest before new dummies appeared to take the place of those he had destroyed. This time they were different. They were like fiery phantoms, flames flickering and curling to create their bodies. It took Spyro less than a second to know that ice was needed here. Steam obscured his vision as the fiery dummies were put to rest.

Seconds later, new dummies replaced the old, this time formed of what appeared to be water. Spyro was entranced at first by their fluid movements before he remembered he was supposed to be fighting, and shocked them all with electricity. With that done, Spyro readied himself for the next wave of dummies. This time he expected them to be made of earth, and began to plan his assault before they appeared.

What element would he use? He hadn't used fire yet, but he knew that fire wouldn't be any use against stone. Spyro was just considering freezing them with his ice breath, when the dummies appeared. Ice cold air welled up in his throat, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw the dummies weren't what he expected. They weren't made of stone, they were made of ice. And more ice would likely strengthen them.

Spyro had never had to switch elements so quickly before in his life. He was ready to spit ice, and it took all his concentration to change the cold air in his throat into red hot energy. Fire left his jaws in waves, spreading over his icy enemies and melting them into puddles at his feet. When they were gone, the purple dragon allowed himself a sigh of relief. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt slightly short of breath, but he had done it.

"Well done, Spyro," Terrador praised, and Spyro looked up to see the earth guardian wearing a proud expression, "I think you are ready."

Still breathing heavily, Spyro straightened up and strode back to Terrador, "Ready for what?"

The earth guardian considered his pupil for a moment before replying, "It is time to begin your advanced training."

"Advanced training?" Spyro didn't like the sound of that. His usual training was tiring enough, but what would advanced training require?

The earth dragon nodded, "Yes, Spyro. You are the purple dragon and it is your destiny to master all the elements, not just the four common elements. And there is far more to every element than you realize, Spyro. You will start by learning to control the advanced forms of the four common elements, and then move on to new elements; wind, convexity and time. Then, perhaps, if we deem you ready, you may learn the rarest and most mysterious of all elements."

Spyro stared, "What is the rarest element?"

But Terrador only shook his head, "You'll find out when you are ready to control it, young dragon. For now let us concentrate on earth, fire, electricity and ice, and their advanced forms. It is time that you learnt to control the power you were born to wield."

Though disappointed that Terrador refused to tell him what this rarest element was, Spyro let it go. There were other things to worry about; like this advanced training the earth guardian spoke of.

"Will it be difficult?" he wondered aloud, anxiously.

Terrador smiled kindly, "I won't lie to you, Spyro. It will not be easy. But you are the purple dragon and it is your destiny to do this. You will succeed, I promise you that."

The purple dragon looked away, thinking it over. The promise of controlling more power than any of his friends and classmates was oddly enticing. But the thought of difficult training worried him. Would he still have time to spend with his friends, with Cynder?

"You will need to meet with the guardians every afternoon for training," Terrador explained gently when Spyro didn't reply, "Beginning tomorrow."

The purple dragon's head shot up, his eyes wide with dismay, "Tomorrow? But the festival begins tomorrow!"

"Fear not, Spyro," Terrador calmed his student quickly, "You will still have time to enjoy the festival during the day. But during the afternoon you must do your duty; and your duty as the purple dragon is to harness the elements and their every form. Do you understand?"

Spyro wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Terrador that he would rather live a normal dragon with a normal life than as the purple dragon, forced to wield more power than was wise. He wanted to say that he would rather spend time with his friends than train to increase his powers. He wanted to admit that sometimes he wished that he had never been born a purple dragon. But Spyro said none of this. Instead, he hung his head in defeat.

"All right, Terrador. I understand," he sighed, staring at his claws, "I will begin advanced training tomorrow."

"Good dragon," Terrador smiled proudly, oblivious to Spyro's inner turmoil, "You will meet Thasos here tomorrow when the sun is three suns above the horizon. Now you may go."

Spyro thanked Terrador and bade him goodnight, though the sun was still above the horizon, before he flew back to his room. He found Sparx there, fast asleep on his cushions, and curled up next to him. For several hours the purple dragon sat and stared out at the sky, thinking dark and dismal thoughts. Only when the moon was high in the sky and the city was washed in its midnight glow did Spyro finally close his eyes.

But his sleep was restless and full of worrisome dreams.

A/N: First things first: Holy cookies! 19 reviews on the first chapter? I didn't realise you all loved me so much. ^^ So, that's the second chapter over and done with. Ok, so not much happened...again...but for the moment I'm just introducing OCs and building things up until the real plot begins (chapter 4 should be the beginning of the 'good stuff'). I just had to add the creepy old hermit into this chapter. I realized that I hadn't included him in the plot of this story, which was a shame because I love that crazy old hermit! So I stuck him in here, and he's all 'ooooh, I know something you don't know!' for some reason. And Spyro's advanced training was something I came up with while writing this chapter. I've already planned out the entire plot for this story, but I usually end up adding things and changing things as I go until it ends up entirely different to how I thought it would (the same thing happened with ToaO). So yeah, special advanced training...you'll find out what that's about next chapter. One more thing before I leave you to wait for the next chapter: to anyone who read the first few chapters of Hollow Heart before I discontinued it - *points at Zannak* remember him? He hasn't changed a bit since I created him back then. His sister however...well, Saffron's name was once Esmeralda and she's undergone a redesigning. Same goes for Zephira, who was once the grey wind dragoness Kasumi who was changed to an ice dragoness called Tundra before being changed back to the wind dragoness that Zephira now is. I love wind dragons...

If you're lucky I might surprise you with another chapter for Christmas! Until then, thankyou for reading and thanks to those nineteen reviewers (because you're all freakin' awesome and you made my day)!