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Legalese: Blah blah blah, I'm not Insomniac, nor do I own anything here. Do I really have to put this every time? Surely everyone knows that I'm not getting paid, or receiving profit, from writing this stuff and distracting myself from my job hunt? Jeez…

Author's note: This story, Behooved, rejects and renounces the Legend of Spyro series and all it's cannon. This story is taking place long after Spyro 3, but the cannon stops where Insomniac left off. I'm taking the opportunity to build (And bluff) what happened before, around, and after what is seen in the games, using what info I can find and gather from the fandom. Any help with this is greatly appreciated; please email me at werecreatures123 at msn dot com if you have any advice.

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The breeze ruffled the fur on her legs. It wasn't cool, more luke-warm, and quite unlike the winds of Autumn Plains. The whole air of this place was hot, and buzzing, but the movement of air did soften the baking, close weather.

Opening her eyes, Elora looked up into the serene blue of sky, then down, to the white foams of the waves breaking from one end of the beach line to the other.

Relaxing into the bamboo deck-chair, the faun ran her fingers through her hair, stretched her arms languorously above her head, then blushed, and put her arms down again. She was only wearing a green bikini, after all, and she still wasn't used to such revealing clothing. Crossing one hoof over the other, she looked around at the beach. It was filled with little pockets of dragons in threes and fives; families, it seemed, or couples, all enjoying the endless summer sun.

Her fingertips alighted on her drink- a little glass of tropical punch that she half-knew was spiked with a very good brandy, by the tastes of it. She sipped it anyway. It'd been a long time since her last drink.

A ball went sailing past her head, and she watched as it bounced into the sand, and right after it a small dragon glided- again, just above her head.

"Spyro?" she blurted out on instinct. But the juvenile was green, not purple, and looked very embarrassed as he caught his ball and looked up.

"Sorry ma'am."

"You were cutting it a little close, there. More clearance next time."

"You're not from around here, are you, ma'am?"

His next question, and Elora's unsure answer, was interrupted by the dragon's sire.

"Gorbash! What have I told you about flying so low over- Sorry, miss, he's not usually this rude."

Elora saw his shadow block out her sun and she looked up at his forest-green scaled form.

"Must be all the sun. It's alright, really."

She felt her neck complain, she had to crane it so high to meet the dragon's gaze.

"Well, as long as you didn't get hurt. Say… I thought I heard you, ah, say something about…Spyro?"

Elora blushed.

"Oh, yeah, that. I just stumbled over my words. I've been trying to find him."

The dragon half laughed. It wasn't a friendly sort of laugh.

"You're… you're kidding, right? You want to find… the Spyro?"

"Well, yes. I know he's a big celebrity and all, but-"

"He's not just a celebrity. He's the celebrity! He's… he's Spyro! He hasn't got time to stop for autographs, lady, he's got worlds to police."

Oh boy. Why didn't she see this coming?

"I'm aware, sir. Yes, sir, he saved my world, too. And never came back to police it, either. And in fact, he's a jerk once you get to know him."

Elora gave herself a mental slap. Must have been that spiked punch. She downed the rest, then got to her hooves and looked up. Mr Green Dragon didn't look to happy with her.

"What place have you to say that, Hoofer?" he hissed, a low, rumbling growl quite like a big-cat's rolled around in his chest.

"I'm Elora, The Guardian of Avalar, sir. And I don't appreciate the racial slurr, either."

Screwing his nose up, the Dragon continued.

"If you're the Guardian, what are you doing out here?"

At this point, Elora snapped. She turned on her hoof, and stomped away.

"I'm on vacation!"

She left behind her an agitated adult dragon, a sheepish youngster, and an agrivated dragoness trying to tug the two males back to their camp where their youngest was digging herself a deceptively deep hole.

Back at the little tiki-hut bar, Elora ordered herself another drink, and the Kangaroo lad bartender gladly went to work.

"Awlright there Sheila?"

Elora bristled. She remembered that there was a Kangaroo girl that followed Spyro around, known by that name. Being compared to a marsupial wasn't on her list for today.

"Do I look like her? Really?"

"No, no! Yeh got me wrong, babe. Sheila just means 'girl'. Blimey, wouldn't go mixin' your name up on purpose."

She could tell he was flirting, as he rocked back onto his strong tail and juggled bottles, mixing the cocktail. Show off. She smiled, entreating him by leaning forward against the bar, showing off herself. The Kangaroo nearly dropped the glass.

"Never did catch your name, by the way."

"Elora." She smiled coyly as he landed back on his big back feet and handed over the drink.

"Name's Jack. Nice to meetcha. Was that Big Scaley over there doin' you mischief?"

"Oh, no. Nothing I can't handle. He's getting a hiding from his mate, anyway, by the looks of things."

But Jack wasn't interested in the dragons. He leant on the bar across from her, cleaning glasses.

"You look like the kind of gal that could hold her own, too."

"I guess you could say that."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Don't reckon I've seen you on the Shore, before, sweetheart. You new in town?"

"Just on vacation, Needed some time off. You live here?"

"Oh yeah, the Hut's been in the family fer years."
"Ever thought of moving?"

"Naw, love! This is paradise! Surf is up all year round, so when I'm not up on the sand, I'm out in that sea."

Elora turned around and looked out across the waves. It was around three o' clock- she had sheltered under the shade during midday. She heard it was only Mad Dogs and Gnorcs that went out in the midday sun. She could see though, the endless horizon, the lush tropical jungles and lively characters… this could certainly be paradise. But it wasn't home.

"I'm from a colder climate."

"Oh yeah? Where abouts?"

"Autumn Plains." She said on instinct, then looked up. "Oh, err… Avalar."

"Avalar? Huh. Haven't heard much of there."

"No, it's, well... never been much for tourism. It's kind of been in turmoil lately."

"If it's full of gorgeous Sheilas like you, it should be a hot spot."

Elora was starting to like that word, now. She shifted on her barstool, and tried to look…interesting. She didn't have much practise flirting, but hey, she was drinking, and this was paradise. And while she had a captive audience that was borderline ignoring his other patrons she'd might as well try.

"You're flattering."

"Yeah? Well I'm not exaggerating, that's for sure." He added as he pulled a pint of larger for an impatient blue dragon.

Elora took the moment to subtly arrange herself, leaning back on the bar and exposing a not-indecent amount of décolletage. And just then she felt a paw on her shoulder. Jack shied away discreetly, and the faun turned around.

"Elora! Well, haven't you grown up since I last saw you!"

((The plot thickens! Who could it be that knows her here? Will Jack be anything more than flirting practise? Will Elora lose hope in Avalar and run away to Dragon Shores? Is her vacation at a premature end? Tune in next time, because I'm not sure either!))