Bad part of starting a contest of speed? We got there far too quickly. Granted, not getting as much of this crap done as fast as possible might lead to the world's ruin, but it still brought a bitter taste to my mouth to land and forfeit the ability of high-flying for who knows how long. The place was certainly unwelcoming enough as is. The water was putrid and glowing, the tops of the trees releasing clouds of spores. That water frothed and roiled, releasing putrid steam. The trees were tall, thick and eerie, casting shadows with the little light that made it through the spores and fog.

"Well," Spyro muttered, momentary high spirits forgotten. "Isn't this pleasant…"

Sparx glared into eerie silence, "Oh loverly, he always sends us to the nicest places…"

"Eh, it's not that bad, I've seen worse." Spyro sighed, eyeing the place. "I've madeworse… This place is almost beautiful; at least it doesn't have much to hurt."

I looked at him, "Guess getting sucked straight into all the insanity at the temple wasn't the best thing ever for you, huh?"

"Yeah, is it weird that this place is almost a relief? You can't see any of the war's aftermath here…."

"Yeah, sure," Sparx was shaking, "just ignore all the evil beasts and visions of doom and eternal darkness, which sounds oh-so-lovely by the way!"

He flitted in front of Spyro, jabbing him in the nose, "Oh, and the fact that we get to frolic through the magical creepy forest in search of some stupid tree! What's not to love?"

I smirked, "Well, since you're so psyched, let's go!"

"I hate my life…"

We jumped over a small glowing river, the strange steam heavy in our lungs. Looking around, I grumbled, "So, are we going to weed whack, or are we going to take the path? Paths usually served us well before, but it worries me one's somewhere 'uninhabited'."

Spyro eyed the underbrush, green and sickly, covered with thorns. "Yeah… I vote path."

"No argument from me."

We flapped back across the stream and onto a ledge, eyeing the darkness warily. "It's too quiet here, in my experience that's never a good sign."

"Too true that," Sparx said, rubbing hands over twig-like arms. "Usually when things are this quiet, something's about to try it's darndest to kill us."

Spyro sighed, "I can say the same, only in reverse. But yeah, point carries through. Silence bad."

A crackle of foliage startled us all, Spyro and I whipping heads around, warily trying to find the source.

"Speak of the devil," I complained ruefully as something blasted forward, missing us only by the blessing of our practiced reflexes. "Life hates us, doesn't it?"

"Don't need to tell me twice," Sparx replied tersely.

I spun, heat blooming in the back of my throat, preparing a fireball. Only for a mass of pressure to explode against my chest, hurling me into the air until my back struck bark, knocking the wind out of me.

The strange creature bore down on me, bizarre, with a great canine head and the build of a bore. Twice my height, the lumbering brute snarled, opening gargantuan jaws that sent speckles of saliva over me.

Those sabers could bite clean through me, and would have; I was too dazed to do anything. However, something exploded from the earth beneath the creature, a familiar purple form lunging from the soil. Golden horns slammed up and through the creature's softer stomach, leaving trails of crimson tears before he vanished into the dirt once again.

It was a trick he'd shown me before, forcing the earth around him to form a tunnel and push him through. It took a ton of elemental energy, but like me he must have realized the weakest point of such a tank would be the stomach that's never exposed. Exploding out of the ground behind the stunned beast, Spyro jumped, landing on its back.

With a growl like a wildcat, the dragon reared, forepaws glowing green, before he fell back to all fours. His claws met tough scalp with the sickening sound of tearing tissue, and blood burst forth as the beast swayed, then fell to the earth, dead.

It was the most flawless attack I'd ever seen from him, no hesitation whatsoever.

…

They both looked at me, her luminescent green eyes digging into my scales. I fidgeted nervously; she'd been so close to getting gnawed in half! I'd let go, but I'd been balanced. I was still me the whole time. It still felt dirty and animalistic, but it was necessary… Is what Terrador said true, that that's the same for anyone fighting? Cynder stood, looking at me. Mad? Impressed? Nervous? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Something came slashing forward, and an ear-splitting screech an awful lot like a boar's call slit through silence with a razor's tip. We lost ourselves in the fight, dodging and whirling around our foe like we'd practiced so many times in the guardians' arena.

After defeating the creatures, we continued on. Cynder kept glancing at me, causing my scales to burn. I was grateful for the gloom, it hid it well.

We came to a clearing surrounded by trees that grew next to each other, forming a great wall.

"Well, what now? I certainly don't want to spend enough time to hack through that many trunks," Cynder sighed, eyes darting around the clearing. "One would be fine though."

The eloquent dragoness darted to an aged tree in the middle, shadows forming, like flickering dark flame around her forepaws. She reared up, slashing weathered bark with smooth, slick strokes, almost artistic in nature, like dancing. Her whole body waved from side to side with each slash, tail whipping back and forth like a playful serpent.

The ease of finding a solution surprised me. I had seen weathered soldiers take hours on something half as simple to figure out—snarling and grumbling like ill-tempered bears the entire time. Including myself as the General. But then, in a similar situation, the monster that was once me would have preferred slashing through the thicket, just for the crunch of broken wood under calloused paws.

With a creek, Cynder knew it was ready. Glancing to make sure Sparx and I were out of the line of fire, she darted to the opposite side of the great tree and reared. Black forepaws struck weathered wood, but only another creak rewarded her efforts. Glancing at me, Cynder sighed, "Whatcha waiting for? An invitation?"

"Uh… oh!" I shook my head, tearing it away from my thoughts, and darted to her side. Balancing on my back legs, I jabbed my forepaws forward, hitting old wood and sending the tree down with a satisfying crash. Some small remnant of the power I once held lingered in these legs.

Flashing a smirk, the obsidian dragon hopped up on the fallen log, tail waving. "Come on, airhead, places to go, bizarre mutants to kill, ancient annoying spirits to infuriate and all that. Ring a bell?"

"Uh yeah…" My cheeks were burning again as I hopped up beside her and Sparx laughed at me.

"Tsk," Cynder smirked. "When in unknown land, it's generally a good idea to keep an eye on what's liable to pounce on you, sound smart?"

"Yeah, sorry, I was thinking…"

The joking air vanished from her eyes, "I'm hardly perfect at this either, just remember you aren't him anymore, and this isn't the arena. You don't have an army or a simple thought to get you out of anything that happens here."

"I know, believe me, I do…" I turned my head, looking towards the eerie path forward. "It's just weird. When I was him, I never had to think. I wasn't allowed to; my head was either gone, or numbed and buzzing. If it wasn't him blocking me out, it was me, burying myself in fog so I could stop feeling like I was doing things wrong. It's hard to think now; I'm so used to not having the option. There's so much space, how are you supposed to fill it?"

…

I looked at him, aghast. I didn't have an answer. My head was full of places I'd been; memories. My heart was full of all the friends I'd grudgingly accepted I could stand. Mom, Dad, Sparx, Spyro, Myst, Ignitus, Terrador, Volteer, Cyril, Kane, Mole-Yair, and so many others. The people who'd helped to shape me and who I am, even only a little.

But what did Spyro have left? Bitter memories of violence, hate and lust for blood. Is that all he had before? Of course he would find things distract himself, if subconsciously. And of course he would feel the General was all he had been before.

What a terrible fate, to have nothing but that to live on, and now it was taken away, the only thing he had… Of course he felt empty, lost and alone.

"I…" What could I say? What wasn't weak, pointless and unhelpful? "I think you can find that out on your own, that's what we all have to do at some point, I figure. Sometimes life gives us hell; it has for you."

I remembered something; I wasn't sure where it came from. It felt so familiar, like a lullaby sung by a voice I should recognize. "Spyro, I heard something a long, long time ago. Yesterday is done, tomorrow is yet to come, and today will never dawn again. So regret not the past, treasure the present, and fear not the future."

Sparx sighed, "What happened to the Cynder I knew? You're turning into a freaking sage with all this sentimental stuff!"

I only shrugged, eyes on Spyro. "I guess pain and war can do that to the lucky ones…"