Residual Darkness

by Riverstyxx

Even in times of peace, darkness still resides. An ancient tribe has returned for revenge on the cheetahs of Avalar, and Warfang is in their way. But, far from saving the world, Spyro may be forced to face his most dangerous enemy yet: himself.

38. Chapter 38

A/N: There's only a few hours left of the final day of 2013 here in this part of the world, so let's herald in 2014 with a new chapter! 2013 hasn't been a great year for this story. Up until about a month ago, RD had only been updated four times throughout the whole year. I'd like to think I rectified that in this recent month. :P Here's hoping I can get this story finished in 2014, because as of a few weeks ago this story has officially been going for 3 years. Dude.

Thanks everyone who has stuck with me, regardless of when you started reading. You guys are awesome, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. It means the world to me. Now, have some faun-y fun times below.

38.

It was easy to lose track of time in the forest. The shadows grew deeper as seconds and minutes trickled past. Spyro's throat was dry from calling. No one ever answered, but he refused to give up until his voice at last gave out. Cynder's name withered on his tongue and turned into a rasping cough. His throat ached as he swallowed.

"We're so lost," Sparx groaned. He leant a hand on Spyro's muzzle. "And look, it's getting dark! I bet this place is even freakier at night. What do we do, bro?"

Spyro didn't trust his voice to work, so he shook his head. There was nothing they could do. Nothing except continue walking and hope they weren't going in circles. Sooner or later, something had to change. The fauns were out there somewhere, and so were his friends.

He felt so vulnerable without them. The last time he'd been alone like this, with only Sparx for company, had been when he'd left Warfang. That had almost ended in disaster. He couldn't let that happen again. What if… Spyro shuddered and shot a glance at his paws, terrified for a moment that he'd see darkness spreading over them like ink. But his scales remained purple, albeit covered in mud and decaying leaf fragments.

Spyro breathed a sigh of relief, but the heavy feeling in his gut remained. He almost couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to trust himself. At first, those frightening episodes had been brief and quickly forgotten. He'd never worried about them until they happened. When had he started fearing their recurrence with every waking minute?

All he wanted was to trust himself again.

"C'mon, man, I wanna get out of here." Sparx's hand left his muzzle, and Spyro missed its miniscule warmth.

He met Sparx's bright blue eyes and tried to smile. When he opened his mouth to tell him not to worry, all that came out was a pitiful croak. Grimacing, Spyro cleared his throat—it felt like it was full of sand—and tried again. "We'll be okay."

His voice sounded alien, as though someone else had spoken instead. Sparx's hands went to his hips. "You say that now. Just wait until nightfall when all the creepy critters and ravenous beasts come out to play. Then what, Spyro? Then what?!"

Sparx's voice reached a high, strangled pitch and he threw his tiny hands in the air. Spyro sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. He had to admit, despite Sparx's vivid imagination, he had a point. Who knew what manner of dangerous creatures traversed the forest at night? The sooner they found someone—or shelter—the better.

With that thought in mind, Spyro set off again, Sparx bobbing above his head. They walked in silence, picking through the leaf-litter in the slowly increasing darkness. The air was hot and humid, and Spyro resorted to holding his wings out to cool off. He had no sense of direction, and no way of telling whether he was walking deeper into the forest or closer to its edge. He was willing to bet his wings it was the former.

It wasn't long afterwards that Spyro picked up a sound quite apart from the rustling of leaves and the squelching of his paws. When he stopped to listen, it sounded almost like music—a gentle, far away tune that was carried to him on the wind. For a moment he wondered if he was hearing things, and glanced at Sparx just to make sure. Sparx had his hand cupped at the side of his head.

"Hear that, bro?" he said. "That's the sound of my sanity disappearing. Unless deadly forest beasts like singing."

Spyro frowned and listened harder. Sparx was right. It wasn't just music; it was a voice. "I hear it too."

"So we're both going mad. Wonderful."

It couldn't have been Cynder. Spyro had never heard her sing, and he doubted she'd think the middle of a dark forest was the best place for it. But then, who would? If it wasn't a 'deadly forest beast', like Sparx said, maybe the owner of the voice could help them. "Let's go, Sparx. Whoever it is could be friendly."

He started in the direction of the singing, listening hard and not bothering to see if Sparx was going to follow. He'd panic and fly after him sooner or later, anyway. Sure enough, a moment later, Sparx was back at his side. "You have the best ideas, you know? Let's go towards the creepy voice."

"You're too paranoid, Sparx."

"I'm just the right amount of paranoid, thank you very much. And I'm still alive to prove it!"

Spyro rolled his eyes and jumped over the large roots of a massive tree. It was caked with moss, like most of the other trees nearby. In fact, the further he walked, the mossier the trees became. When the muddy leaf-litter under his paws was replaced with something softer, Spyro looked down and saw the ground was too. Patches of moss grew everywhere, creating a green blanket that covered large sections of the forest floor. It was damp and smelled faintly of rainwater.

The music sounded closer now. He could easily distinguish that it was indeed a singing voice, and that it sounded distinctly female. His interest piqued, Spyro crept along the mossy floor towards its source. It had to be just around those bushes…

"Spyro, don't do it!"

Spyro froze for a millisecond until he realised it was just Sparx. He shot a glare over his shoulder, but Sparx flew into his face and obscured his vision. Only when he stepped back did he realise the dragonfly was waving his arms around frantically.

"Remember those old legends that mum used to tell us, about the creepy ladies that sang to lure their victims in and then ate them? Remember?"

"Ladybugs," Spyro corrected, rolling his eyes. "And those were just stories. Remember when we actually saw a ladybug once? They're smaller than you!"

"But what if there's a… If it's a different… Spyro!"

Ignoring Sparx's protests, Spyro crept around a large moss-covered tree and slipped between two tall spiky-leaved bushes. The first thing he noticed on the other side was a warm yellow glow. It was so out of place in the quiet darkness of the forest that he stopped and stared for a moment, wondering if he was seeing it right. Then he blinked and saw the scene that the light illuminated.

It was trapped inside a small lantern that hung on the branch of a tree nearby. Beside it, standing with its back to Spyro, was the strangest creature he'd ever seen. It stood on two brown-furred legs that ended in cloven hooves. From the waist up it was hairless and pinkish, but its chest was covered by green material. All he could see of its head was long auburn fur that fell from its crown to its shoulders.

As Spyro gaped, he realised that it was this creature who was singing. He didn't understand the language, but her voice was soft and calming. She was reaching with slender, furless hands for a huge dark blue fruit hanging from the tree. At second glance, Spyro saw numerous similar fruits hanging from its branches and others stacked in a basket on the ground.

A tiny rustle announced Sparx's arrival. At first he was silent, and Spyro remembered that Sparx had never seen the picture in the Chronicler's book. He was certain that this creature was a faun, but he didn't get the chance to tell Sparx.

"What the heck is that?" Sparx said in a loud whisper that carried like a shout in the silent forest. "Some kind of goat?"

Spyro opened his mouth to correct Sparx, but the words died in his throat when the faun abruptly stopped singing and spun around. The fruit hit Spyro on the snout before he realised she'd thrown it, and he reeled backwards with a pained yell as it splattered across his face.

"Who are you calling a goat?" said an angry female voice as Spyro tried desperately to paw the sticky pulp from his eyes. It burned, and the forest blurred into shapeless blobs of colour through his tears of pain. His muzzle throbbed.

Only then did he realise Sparx was laughing. It wasn't just any tiny snicker, either. He was laughing so hard he was gasping and punching his fist into Spyro's horn. Furious, Spyro swiped the worst of the fruit off his face and glared at Sparx. He was doubled over in the air, clutching his stomach with one hand.

"D-Did you see that?! You got totally owned, Spyro!"

Spyro snorted smoke from his nostrils and contemplated freezing Sparx in a block of ice. It was his fault anyway. But a new voice snapped his attention away from the guffawing dragonfly.

"Alright, which one of you punks said that?" The faun tapped one of her hooves on the moss, folding her arms over her bare midriff.

Spyro stared. She was even stranger from the front, bearing the vague build of a female cheetah with less fur and hooves instead of paws. Her face was very flat, with a small nose that was nothing like a muzzle. A strand of auburn hair fell over her angry, almond-shaped eyes—dark green, just like the fabric around her chest.

He realised she'd asked a question and, almost automatically, he pointed a wing at Sparx. She turned her glare on him and cocked a slender auburn eyebrow. Sparx had finally recovered from his laughing fit and was wiping tears from his eyes. He grinned shakily. "But no, seriously, what are you?"

She bristled like Cynder did whenever she was offended. Spyro winced on instinct. "I'm a faun, you dork!"

Sparx held his hands up defensively. "Hey, whoa, no need for the aggro. You're a what, now? Wait… Is this who we're looking for, bro?"

"She's a faun," said Spyro as the first inkling of relief took hold. "So yes."

The faun frowned and the anger faded from her face, to be replaced by suspicion and curiosity. "You were looking for me?"

"Not you," Sparx drawled. "All of you weird goat things."

The anger returned in a flash and she bared a set of blunt white teeth before Spyro hurriedly intervened. "Fauns, Sparx."

"Yeah, yeah."

The faun huffed and swept her head-fur out of her eyes, fixing them on Spyro. "Since your friend there insists on being rude… Mind telling me why a dragon and his fly are looking for my fauns?"

"Because we're your biggest fans, duh."

"Sparx." Spyro shot him a dirty look and hoped that shut him up for once. Sparx averted his eyes, whistling innocently, and Spyro sighed. Shaking his head, he looked up at the faun. "We were sent by a wise dragon called the Chronicler to meet with you. He said you might have some information that we need."

"Information…how?" She made an odd circular motion with her hand, and Spyro took it as a motion to elaborate.

He bit his lip and looked at Sparx. Would this lone faun know anything about the Magic Crafters? And if not, would she think them crazy for asking about them? She was the only friendly life form they'd come across since entering the forest, and his friends were still lost somewhere out there. He couldn't risk driving her away with strange questions about a species that was no longer supposed to exist.

"Magic, fairytales, bedtime stories, the whole shebang!" Sparx spread his arms in a wide arc, his expression blunt. "Come on, what more do you want? We've been lost in here for hours."

"Right." The faun considered them in silence, and Spyro fidgeted. He wouldn't know what to do if she refused to help. They'd be back to square one, alone and lost in a hostile forest with no idea what had happened to their friends. Eventually, the faun shrugged and turned away.

"Come on, then," she called over her shoulder as she unhooked the lantern from the branch. "It's not safe to be out here after dark, anyway. I'll take you to the Grotto."

Relief burst in Spyro's chest like a warm flame roaring to life. He hurried after the faun, unable to keep the grin off his face. "You mean you'll help us?"

The faun picked up her basket of fruits and turned to him, a sly smile on her face. "Sure. If you'll help me."

She dropped the basket at his paws and turned away. "Carry this."

Dumbfounded, Spyro stared from her to the basket and back again. Exchanging a shrug with Sparx, he took the handle of the woven basket in his mouth and lifted it. A weight he hadn't been expecting pressed down on his jaws and neck, and he couldn't stifle a groan. Shutting his eyes, he lifted it high and, with one eye open, staggered after the faun. His teeth felt like they were groaning in protest. Sparx snickered.

"I'm Elora, by the way," said the faun over her shoulder as she led the way through the bushes, lighting the shadows with her lantern.

"'Rrro..." Spyro grunted around the handle, staggering over a small root and almost dropping the lot. He snarled and lifted the basket higher, trying to ignore the pain currently taking root in his jaw muscles.

Elora smirked at him, "Say again?"

"He's Spyro," Sparx sniggered. He puffed out his chest, and Spyro would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so intent on holding the basket up. "And I am the mighty Sparx, scourge of the Dragon Realms!"

He leant closer to Elora's head, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth, and whispered, "I'm working on getting it changed to the Dragonfly Realms. Got a nice ring to it, am I right?"

Spyro tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but with the basket handle in his mouth it became a full coughing fit. He dropped the basket and gasped for air, grinning despite his watering eyes. Elora laughed suddenly.

"You two are an odd pair," she said, and there was something teasing about her grin. "I think my father will like you."

---

Nadi wanted to scream.

A single curse repeated over and over in his head as he thundered recklessly through the forest. His limbs burned with every leap, and the pads of his paws were raw and aching, but he couldn't stop. Whenever he let himself think, horrible images bombarded his thoughts and set ice through his veins. Roku dying; Saffron terrified—his only friends alone and vulnerable in the forest.

Screw the purple dragon. Screw all the rest of them. Only Roku and Saffron mattered. They were his friends. He couldn't let anything happen to them. Again, he cursed himself and pushed every ounce of raw fury into his blind charge. The forest was a blur around him; trees raced towards him and skimmed his wings as he passed, and vines slapped at his face before he noticed they were there.

Damn forest. Damn plant. Damn the purple dragon for bringing them here. Damn himself for making a promise he didn't know if he could keep.

He had to find help. He had to get back. But he knew that if he stopped and turned around now, he wouldn't even know how to get back to them. If he kept moving forward, if he didn't look back, maybe he could make it. Maybe he could find someone; anyone.

Nadi's paws slipped as he came down hard on the other side of a protruding root. The leaf-litter scattered under his paws and the forest seemed to tip sideways. Panic lanced through him, and then his shoulder struck the ground with a painful thud that rattled through his bones. He lay still for only a second, the world a blur around him, before desperation forced him back to his senses.

Get up. Get up. Nadi snarled and forced himself to his feet, ignoring the ache that was quickly spreading through his whole body. He staggered and started running again, stumbling the first few steps before he found his rhythm. There was a faint red mist in front of his eyes that he knew was the result of exhaustion. He didn't know how long he'd been running, only that he had to keep going.

Keep going, or he'd lose his friends for good.

Roku.

Saffron.

He screamed a curse to the forest so loud that it made his throat hurt. It didn't matter who or what heard him. He hated this forest. He hated everything about this forest. It could all burn to the ground; he'd do it himself if he was a fire dragon.

His paw caught a root and he stumbled for a second time, but caught himself before he fell. He skidded on the leaf-litter, bracing himself, until his flank collided with the trunk of a tree. Gasping for breath, Nadi leant against the tree and tried to blink the red mist from his eyes.

"D-Damn. Damn." He slammed his paw into the ground and it sank into the muddy leaf-litter. The forest was quiet and still around him. It hadn't been this dark before. A shudder of panic made his aching muscles shake. He took a deep breath. "Help! Dammit, help! If there's anyone out there, help!"

There was no response. No rustle of leaves, no faint footsteps in the distance. He couldn't do it. He'd failed. His body was exhausted. Nadi didn't try to stop his legs from giving way beneath him. He slumped against the base of the tree, aching and defeated, and closed his eyes. He'd lost. He'd lied to Saffron.

Maybe Roku was already dead.

An ache lanced through his chest; he knew it had nothing to do with physical injuries. Nadi curled into himself and dug his claws into his foreleg, relishing the sudden spike of controllable pain. He had nothing left except curses repeating like a mantra in his head.

Maybe it would be better if he died here too. Maybe it would be better…

Nadi welcomed the approach of darkness as he closed his eyes. His leg throbbed where his talons pierced through the scales, but even that pain dulled and faded as time slipped away around him. The darkness twisted in front of his eyes, and drew him deeper into welcome oblivion.

A whisper of wind brushed his cheek. Startled from a stupor of self-loathing and despair, Nadi raised his head quickly. He wasn't sure how long he had been comatose at the base of the tree, but the darkness wasn't much deeper than before. The scales on the back of his neck prickled, but when he turned his head all he saw was silent forest. It was strange; he felt eyes on him, watching him.

The feeling returned to his limbs as his heart started to beat faster. Nadi clambered awkwardly to his paws, eying the forest as he did so. It hadn't changed. There was no sign of any life, but for the skid mark where he had slid on the leaf-litter. He flared his nostrils, but received only the scent of the damp forest. There was nothing.

But something was watching.

Nadi bared his teeth, daring whatever creature was spying to come out. He could take it, whatever it was. It and its stupid forest.

He felt it again out of nowhere—a tongue of wind flicking across his scales. It was cold and fresh, unlike the heavy warm air of the forest. Nadi shivered and spun around, his bravado slipping. A pale glow shimmered in the corner of his eye, and he snapped his gaze towards it. His breath froze in his chest.

Between two ancient, moss-grown trees stood a white figure.

It was about as big as a full-grown dragon, but its shape and features were indistinguishable. Nadi was rooted to the spot. Every thought had scattered from his mind like ash on the wind, and time itself felt like it had ground to a halt. It was just him and the white figure.

With dainty steps that made no noise, the apparition glided closer. The glow was no longer as bright as Nadi had first thought, and as it came closer he saw it in clear. It was a dragon. Its pale grey-blue scales were oddly transparent and he could faintly see the forest through it. The tips of its wings curled daintily, and there were blue markings painted under its eyes and down its muzzle.

Its eyes were clear and colourless.

Nadi held his breath as the ghostly figure stopped in front of him, so close that he could have stepped forward and touched it. It inclined its head as though gesturing for something, but Nadi couldn't fathom what. Something about the apparition calmed him; he knew it wouldn't do him harm. As it turned away, Nadi let out the breath he'd been holding.

Looking at the dragon's retreating back, Nadi saw the blue markings continued all the way down its neck to its tail. He was almost certain it was female. He was also certain she wasn't alive. Maybe she wasn't even there at all, and he was going mad. Maybe he'd fallen asleep at the base of a tree and this was all a bizarre dream.

The spirit dragoness turned her head and her colourless eyes held him so intently that he couldn't look away. She made another gesture with her head, and he realised at last that she wanted him to follow. There wasn't much else he could do. Nadi took one step after her, and then another. The spirit echoed his movements, and suddenly he was bounding through the trees after her.

His body felt rejuvenated and full of adrenaline as he thundered through the forest once more, keeping his unusual guide in sight. She didn't make any noise, and trees and plants seemed to pass straight through her. Nadi was forced to duck around those she passed through, and he struggled to keep pace. It was his only objective, and all other thoughts faded to the back of his mind as he raced the spirit through the trees.

His breath was icy in his lungs, but the heat of the forest was quickly becoming unbearable. The more they ran, the faster the spirit seemed to get. It didn't take long for Nadi's legs to start aching again, and his side throbbed from where he had collided with the tree earlier. He gritted his teeth and forced through the pain as the red mist began to creep back into the corners of his vision.

He had to keep the spirit in sight. It was all that mattered.

Quite suddenly, she disappeared into the undergrowth. Her transparent tail flicked out of sight, and a thrill of alarm shot through him. Panicked, Nadi leaped after her with every last ounce of energy he had left. The bushes scraped at his scales as he leapt through, and he shut his eyes on instinct. His paws hit the ground with a sudden jolt, and the rest of his body soon followed.

Nadi lay gasping for breath, sprawled in the moss, his vision spinning and blurring around him. Somewhere nearby, something hit the ground with a soft thud and a startled voice yelled something in a language he didn't understand.

There was a scuffle of some large creature moving closer, and Nadi snapped back to his senses. Snarling, he rolled into a half-sitting position and tried to glare at whoever it was. But the world spun into a blur of brown and green, and it was a moment before his vision settled. When it did, he found himself staring into the face of a creature the likes of which he'd never seen before.

The snarl dropped from his face.

---

Saffron paced backwards and forwards, never moving more than a few steps from Roku's side and constantly shooting glances at the spot where Nadi had disappeared. Though she listened hard, she heard only the noises of the forest—the rustle of wind through the canopy; the quiet song of a bird hidden in the trees. Once, she thought she heard a low whistling sound far in the distance, accompanied by the far-away footsteps of some large beast moving through the forest. She'd frozen to the spot, terrified, but the sounds had gradually faded from earshot.

She hadn't heard anything since, least of all the sound she most wanted to hear. As the darkness deepened, and so did her sense of vulnerability, Saffron stopped pacing and sat at Roku's side. With a shaking paw, she checked the pulse in his neck for the third time. The steady—albeit weak—beat under her paw offered a shred of comfort. His scales were so cold.

"You can't die," Saffron murmured, lying down beside him. She stretched her wing out and draped it over his body, determined to offer him some of her heat. His eyes remained closed and he didn't stir, except for the fluttering rise and fall of his ribs. Saffron blinked furiously. "We still need you. You're our friend. Think of your brother. He's waiting for you to come back home. And…and everyone else. We can't go back without you."

She gripped his paw; it was limp in her grasp. It terrified her. "Just stay alive. That's all I ask."

Taking a deep breath, Saffron looked away and tried to find something else to occupy her mind. There was nothing she could do for Roku now. She was helpless. There was still no sign of Nadi's return, and she wasn't sure how long it had been. What if something awful had happened to him out there? More carnivorous plants; more poisonous flowers? She should have gone with him. But then Roku would have been alone.

Saffron clenched her jaws and stood up. She couldn't handle just sitting there, doing nothing. It was all too much. Why did she have to be so useless? It was a moment before she realised she had started pacing again. Saffron closed her eyes, and suddenly memories of moments before were playing behind her eyelids. Nadi's face only inches away; the warmth of his muzzle as it pressed against hers; the shock that had rendered her paralysed.

Her face hot, Saffron forced her eyes open and checked on Roku again. There was no change; his ribs still moved with every weak breath. She hoped she was imagining the slowly greying pallor of his scales. Saffron breathed in shakily and cast a hopeful glance into the underbrush. No noises. No Nadi.

What would her brother think? Startled by the sudden thought, Saffron froze mid-step. What would any of the others think if…when they found out? The sick feeling deep in her stomach worsened sharply, and Saffron sat down. Maybe she was thinking too much into it. Maybe that kiss hadn't meant anything. Had he only done it on the spur of the moment? To calm her down from her state of panic?

Maybe he didn't like her that way at all. But if he did… What next? Would they start courting? Even become…mates? The blood rushed to Saffron's face and she quickly shook her head. It was too early to think about things like that. And this wasn't the moment for thinking any such things.

Frustrated, Saffron whirled around and continued pacing. Why had he done that? Now all she could think of was him. As if that hadn't been bad enough already. Her head felt like it was splitting. Roku was dying, Nadi had kissed her, and now she was useless and stranded in the middle of a hostile forest. It was too much.

"Stupid plant!" Saffron screamed, whirling around and firing a bolt of electricity into the bushes. They exploded into fragments of leaves and twigs. As the debris fluttered down to join the leaf-litter, Saffron snorted through her nostrils and glared at what remained of them. If only that damn flower was there. If she hadn't been terrified of leaving Roku, she'd have gone back and given it a piece of her mind. "This is all its fault! That…that…stupid!"

Another bolt exploded what remained of the underbrush. Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the faint smell of burning foliage filled the air. Her throat suddenly tight, Saffron sat down heavily. Anger still prickled at her insides, but exhaustion was settling in on her body and mind. Her eyes fell on Roku, so limp and lifeless, a shadow of the strong dragon he usually was. A stinging burn took root behind her eyes.

With a choked swear, Saffron slammed her paw into the earth and sank to her belly. "It's not fair. It's not…"

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, fighting back tears. As time passed, she realised she was acutely aware of everything around her. The rustle of the leaves; the damp touch of leaf-litter against her cheek; the beating of her own heart. Inexplicable terror gnawed an icy hollow in her stomach, and her breath quickened. There were enemies all around her. She was helpless to do anything. Paralysed. Useless.

A voice called in the distance, and Saffron scrambled upright with a yelp of fear. She whirled around, expecting monsters of any design to come bearing down upon her, but the forest around her was empty of life. Her heart felt like it was going to fly out her mouth, and she held a paw to her chest. What had startled her? She listened hard, but heard nothing.

Saffron shot a worried glance at Roku, but he was still senseless and breathing. She licked her lips and took a step back towards him. The voice called again. Saffron flinched and raised her head, wide-eyed.

"Nadi?" The forest seemed to swallow up her call. Her chest tight, Saffron swallowed hard and called again. "Nadi?"

At first there was silence. Then…

"Saffron!"

She could hear the rustle of bushes now as some creature thundered through the underbrush towards her. Her chest unclenched, and Saffron dared to let herself hope.

"Nadi!" she called again. "I'm here! We're here!"

He exploded through the bushes without warning, and all Saffron saw was a blur of bronze scales before she threw herself at him. Her paws found his shoulders blindly, and she pulled herself against his chest. He stiffened, but only for a second, and then paws wrapped around her back and pulled her into an almost crushing embrace. Warm breath tickled her neck as he buried his face in her scales.

Saffron drew in a shuddering breath and, though all she wanted was to stay in his paws, she pulled away. His eyes searched her face, confused and worried, and the words stuck in her throat. She forced them out. "I-I don't know if he's…"

The fear in Nadi's eyes deepened and he whirled away from her. He only took a step towards Roku before he froze. Saffron had never seen him look so stricken. The bushes rustled for a second time, and she spun around in alarm. A bizarre, alien creature stumbled into her path, and she might have screamed if she hadn't been so startled. A strangled noise that she hadn't meant to make escaped her throat.

"Sorry, sorry!" said the creature, backing up a step, a lantern swinging from his hand. Saffron breathed in through her teeth as she truly saw it for what it was. The deer-like legs, the hairless torso, the flat fine-featured face—it was a faun, just like the ones she had seen in the Chronicler's book. Judging from the shape of its body and the sound of its voice, it was male.

"Where's…" he started to say, but trailed off as he laid eyes on Roku.

Saffron didn't get a chance to speak before the faun was at Roku's side, laying his lantern down. It cast a warm yellow glow across Roku's listless body. She held her breath. Nadi hesitated, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to force the faun away from his injured friend. His legs shook and he backed away with obvious effort. Letting out a sigh, Saffron crept to his side. She wasn't sure if he wanted her there—if he'd have preferred she kept her distance—but those thoughts left her mind as soon as his wing wrapped around her shoulders.

He tugged her against his flank without a word, and without taking his eyes off Roku. Saffron could have melted with relief. She let her head rest against his neck, and let the warmth of his presence comfort her. Everything was okay. Everything, except…

"Will he be okay?" Nadi demanded.

The faun had his hairless hand pressed to Roku's neck, and he looked up sharply. "He's alive. Just barely. You said he was poisoned; did you see what did it?"

"It was…" Nadi trailed off, staring down the path that they had walked some time ago. The flower had long since vanished from view, and Saffron wasn't sure how long it would take to get back to it. Time wasn't something they had on their side.

"It was back that way," she said, pulling away from under Nadi's wing and pointing down the path. "I…I don't know how far."

Saffron looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. If only they'd stopped sooner; it would still be in sight. What if they needed the plant to help Roku?

"What did it look like?" the faun asked.

Saffron mouthed wordlessly, but Nadi didn't miss a beat. "A flower. Bright red, cone-shaped. It shot a yellow dart into his neck."

"Blood Trumpet," said the faun without pause. He clicked his tongue and looked down at Roku. "One of the more venomous plants in Enrin. We always carry the antidote, just in case."

As he talked, he fiddled with the belt around his waist, which looked to be made from woven vines. There were several pouches hanging from this belt, and from one he retrieved two apparently useless items—a thin pointed stick, and what looked to be a large oval seedpod. With a deft twist of his hands, he split the pod down the middle and placed the two halves on the ground. One of the halves was filled with a thin reddish paste.

"They're a volatile plant," he continued, picking up the thin stick and placing it point-first into the paste. "They'll attack anything that gets within range."

The faun bent double and fastened his lips around the other end of the stick, to Saffron's bewilderment. Nadi was silent beside her, and she dared to sidle just a little closer. As their wings brushed together, his twitched and suddenly she was being pulled back against his side. Relaxing, Saffron watched as the faun straightened up with the twig still between his lips. She frowned.

Then, to her horror and fascination, he placed the pointed end against the side of Roku's neck and pressed down. It sank into his scales with little resistance. Saffron flinched. The faun's eyes closed, his lips pursed, and Saffron got the impression that he was slowly puffing air into the twig. Nadi stiffened beside her, but he didn't even get a chance to voice any protests before the faun sat back and removed the twig from Roku's neck.

"That's why we carry the antidote," he said, putting the seed pod back together and slipping it back into the pouch as though he hadn't done anything unusual. He looked up and smiled. "Nasty thing, that plant. I'm Satin, by the way. Who's your friend, Nadi?"

Nadi seemed too stunned by what had happened—or perhaps by Satin's calm demeanour—so Saffron spoke for him. "I'm Saffron. What exactly did you do?"

"Gave him the antidote, of course." Satin stood up and brushed the leaf-litter from his furry knees. "It'll take a little while to take effect, but he'll be right in a day or so. For now, we should get you three to the Grotto. It's never good to be caught out in the Wilds after dark."

Saffron stared from him to Roku, shaken and confused. No change appeared to have come over him, despite what Satin had said. She couldn't even be sure that he was telling the truth. But the Chronicler had sent them to find the fauns, which surely meant they were friendly. What would Satin get out of lying to them?

"How do we know we can trust you?" Nadi said, as though he had read her thoughts. Saffron gave him a worried look.

"It's either me or the forest," said Satin brightly. "And I think you've already found it's not so hospitable."

Nadi scowled, and Saffron pressed her paw on top of his. He glanced sidelong at her, and she tried to smile. It felt strained on her face. "Let's just go with him. It can't be worse than staying out here. Roku would trust him."

He sighed and touched his muzzle to her cheek. A warm fuzziness spread through her body and she leant into him, relishing the touch. It ended too quickly.

"You're right," he said, so quietly that only she could have heard. Removing his paw from under hers, he stepped over to Roku. Saffron watched anxiously as he shoved his head under Roku's body and attempted to toss him onto his back. She hurried over to help, and soon Roku was draped lengthways between Nadi's wings. His breathing seemed to have steadied.

Satin bade them to follow, and Nadi started after him with slow steps at first. Saffron pressed against his side, offering her strength. On a whim, she curled her tail uncertainly around his. She was pleasantly surprised when he squeezed back.

---

Spyro hadn't been sure what to expect of the Grotto, but upon seeing it, he was almost glad he hadn't formed many expectations. After all, he was certain they would have been dashed. Elora pulled back a wall of vines, and held them aside for Spyro and Sparx to step through. As the vines fell back into place behind them, Spyro stopped and stared. It was like nothing he could have imagined.

At the very least, he had expected huts like in the cheetah village. Instead, all he saw were trees—huge trees, bigger than they had any right to be, with great big hollows like open mouths at the base of their trunks. Some of these hollows were partially obscured by curtains of vines or ivy. As Spyro stared, he realised they were doorways; each an entranceway to the heart of the tree.

The forest floor was layered with soft moss, and from many branches and boughs hung lanterns that all emitted the same yellow glow. It filled the entire Grotto with warm light, illuminating the narrow pathways between huge trees and curtains of vegetation. When Spyro finally realised Elora was walking away, he shook himself out of his awed stupor and hurried after her as fast as the heavy basket in his mouth would allow.

"Weird," Sparx said as they passed between the trees. He hovered a little higher, towards the glowing lanterns above their heads.

Only then did Spyro realise that they weren't lanterns at all. They were little swarms of glowing insects, each about as big as Sparx's head. In the middle of each swarm, hanging from a branch, was what appeared to be half a large fruit—the innards of which were bright white and looked sticky. The insects darted around the hanging fruit, dipping closer and shying away in an endless dance.

"That looks kinda…tasty…" A strange glaze came over his eyes, and Sparx reached out a hand towards the fruit. One of the tiny insects flitted away from him in a swift, jerky motion.

Spyro let the basket fall from his mouth. It hit the moss with a dull thud. "Sparx! Don't touch that!"

Sparx flinched and shrank away from the fruit, shaking his head furiously. His hands went to his hips, and he glared at the swarm of insects as though they had done him wrong. "I didn't want your stupid fruit anyway!"

Grumbling under his breath, Sparx hovered back down to Spyro's level and folded his arms. Spyro stared, cocking an eyebrow, and Sparx returned the look with a glare. "What?"

Spyro grinned. "Nothing. I didn't think you were that hungry."

"I'm not." Sparx scowled. "It just looked—I mean, it kind of… Ah, whatever. Stop looking at me like that."

Chuckling to himself, Spyro grabbed the basket handle between his teeth again and continued on his way. Elora was well ahead by now, and didn't seem to have noticed that her guests were lagging behind. With Sparx on his tail, Spyro picked up the pace, grimacing as the basket swung painfully from his muzzle. If he wasn't careful, it was going to dislocate his jaw. His throat was still raspy too; he'd have battled a grublin for a simple drink of water.

"Wait up, goat-girl!" Sparx called, waving a hand.

Spyro groaned around the basket handle and Elora shot a glare over her shoulder. When her eyes fell on Spyro, the glare disappeared and was replaced by a teasing smile. She beckoned with one hairless hand, stopping between two massive trees to wait for them. Spyro caught up within seconds, and gratefully let the basket fall from his mouth.

"Welcome to the Grotto," said Elora, and there was something smug about her smile as she stepped aside.

Spyro looked past her and sucked in a short gasp. If he hadn't already put the basket down, he fancied he would have dropped it. Sparx gave a low whistle.

What they'd just walked through had been the outskirts of the Grotto, Spyro was sure. This had to be its heart. The ground was entirely covered by moss, which looked almost luminescent green in the warm glow that came from the countless insect swarms around the trees. The trees themselves surrounded a huge flat clearing that was nigh on perfectly round.

In the very centre of the clearing, looking as though it had somehow grown out of the moss, was a small stone structure. It was about as tall as Elora, as wide as Spyro's wingspan, and formed of blocky, straight edges. There were numerous insects flitting around the structure, which was covered in thin tendrils of vegetation almost like spider webs. A small wooden carving—the shape of which Spyro couldn't make out at this distance—was perched on top.

"The Shrine of Gaea," said Elora, and Spyro jumped. He coughed sheepishly and tried not to look startled. But Elora wasn't looking at him. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the stone structure. "It was built by our ancestors long ago. I'll tell you about it later. We should go see my father."

Spyro was buzzing with questions about the shrine and the strange insects that seemed to be everywhere, but he swallowed them and turned to follow Elora along the edge of the clearing. She shot a look over her shoulder. "Don't forget the basket."

There was an amused twinkle in her eye. Spyro tried not to glare as he turned back and grabbed the infuriating basket. Somehow, it seemed even heavier than before.

"Heave-ho, Spyro!" Sparx exclaimed, flitting from one side of Spyro's head to the other. "Work those muscles! You've gotta lose that extra weight somehow."

Spyro tried valiantly to ignore him as he dragged his paws after Elora. The sooner they got where they were going, the sooner he could drop the damn basket. It was a few moments before Spyro realised that he was being watched. Turning his head slightly, he found that a number of fauns had poked their heads out of the tree hollows and were eying him curiously. Elora waved to them as she passed, and they responded with a strange hand motion—crossing their arms in front of their chests and bowing their heads slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sparx said, but Elora didn't respond.

Spyro was brave enough to raise a wing in greeting to some of the fauns, and they repeated the gesture they'd given Elora with only one arm. Feeling a little out of place, Spyro hurried on.

There was a huge tree at the edge of the clearing, bigger than any of the others, which quickly drew his eye. A curtain of ivy obscured the large hollow at the base of the tree, and the moss led right up to it. As they drew closer, Spyro could see a line of incomprehensible carvings that followed the arching line of the hollow. A small shelf of wood protruded from above the ivy curtain, and from it hung another fruit surrounded by a swarm of glowing insects.

Spyro knew immediately that this had to be the home of whoever was the leader or chief of the fauns. It was also apparent that Elora was leading them straight there. He tried not to feel too nervous, but his stomach did a strange flip-flop as they drew closer to the tree. Sparx had gone unusually quiet.

The moss was soft and pleasantly cool underpaw, almost like a natural carpet. Spyro wiggled his talons as they came to a stop outside the ivy curtain. It tickled between his toes and he fancied it wouldn't be hard to sleep on. Distracted, he almost didn't notice when Elora brushed aside the curtain. Just as she did, something occurred to Spyro. This was surely the home of the chief, but wasn't she taking them to see her father?

"Dad!" Elora called through the curtain, and her voice echoed around the hollow tree.

Spyro dropped the basket and craned his head around her, but he didn't get a chance to see much before she stepped into the tree and the curtain fell back behind her. Surprised, Spyro drew back and exchanged a glance with Sparx. The dragonfly shrugged his tiny shoulders and Spyro frowned. If he listened hard enough, he thought he could hear faint voices behind the vine curtain. He was just pondering whether or not to push it aside, and whether or not that would be considered rude, when it was suddenly swept open.

Standing in the tree's doorway was a faun quite unlike Elora at first glance. He was tall and broad-chested, with a large auburn beard that was plaited into two thick strands down to his collarbone. His long head-fur had received similar treatment, plaited and draped over his shoulders, and on the top of his head was a pair of short horns that split into two prongs each. From his chest down to the middle of his legs, he was clothed in a tunic that boasted the colours of the forest.

"So he is!" exclaimed the faun, in a booming voice that was as intimidating as it was jolly. Spyro gaped. The faun clapped his hands together loudly and started beckoning Spyro inside. "Come in, come in! It's been too long!"

Confused, Spyro looked once at Sparx, who was staring at the faun with his mouth open, and followed. The ivy brushed against his scales as he slipped through the curtain, and then it fell back into place behind him. The inside of the tree was illuminated by the same glowing insects that had been outside, only they were trapped inside lanterns that were placed or hung all around the walls. It was a single round room, but big enough to hold at least three full-grown dragons at once. There was a round carpet of moss in the middle of the floor, and two huge wooden chairs opposite the entrance. On either side of the room were beds of moss and leaves.

The walls themselves were cluttered with artefacts and creations the likes of which Spyro had never seen. He stared for several seconds at what appeared to be a colourful wooden mask, its mouth stretched into a disturbingly large grin.

"Nice digs," muttered Sparx beside Spyro's head.

The curtain swished again, and Spyro turned to see the broad-chested faun returning with the basket of fruits swinging from his hand. He carried it as though it was nothing, and deposited it easily on a small wooden table beside the entrance. Upon doing so, he turned around and smiled brightly at Spyro.

"Welcome, dragon! Spyro, was it? My little Elora told me," he added upon Spyro's confused look. The faun walked past and Spyro turned to keep him in sight, feeling a little on edge. Elora was standing beside the chairs, her arms crossed. Spyro blinked. Little Elora?

"Chief Korrin," said the male faun suddenly, stopping at Elora's side and drawing her into a one-armed hug. "That's the name. But feel free to call me what you will. Old Ginger and Great Twin-Beard have been a favourite these last few years."

"Maybe if you got rid of the beard…" Elora muttered, prying herself out of the one-sided hug.

Spyro stared. Seeing them side by side made it startlingly apparent—their eyes were the same, and the shape of their noses, as well as the auburn shade of their fur. There was no way they weren't related.

Sparx seemed to have shared his thoughts, and was just a little quicker on the uptake. "Your dad's the chief?"

Chief Korrin beamed and his eyes widened. "Is that a dragonfly I see? Haven't seen one in years! 'Course, there hasn't been a dragon in Enrin since ancient times. What's a couple of rare beasties like you doing this far west?"

"Dad, don't call them beasties." Elora rolled her eyes and gave Spyro an almost apologetic look. "Yes, this is my father. There's no need to be nervous, though. He's more jokester than chief, really. The beard's kind of scary, though."

"I'd say 'dashing'," said Korrin, stroking his twin-plaited beard with one hand.

Spyro couldn't suppress a grin. Huge and imposing as the faun chief was, something about the curve of his lips and the twinkle of his eyes was endearing and put him at ease. "Actually, my friends and I are here looking for your tribe."

Korrin's eyebrows shot up towards his hair and he stopped stroking his beard. "Truly? Well there's a tale to tell! Whatever for?"

"Wait," said Elora, holding out a hand to stop her exuberant father. "What friends? I thought it was just you and the fly."

A twinge of guilt stabbed through Spyro and he winced. He'd totally forgotten, preoccupied as he had been by Elora's offer to take him to the Grotto, to tell her about his friends. There was no way any of them could have found their way here before him. Was there? Spyro bit his lip. "I came here with a group of other dragons, but we were separated in the forest. If they're still lost out there…"

He looked from Elora to Korrin, but both fauns shook their heads. There was a worried look in Korrin's eyes that Spyro didn't like one bit.

"I'd have been informed if any other dragons found their way to the Grotto," said the chief. "How many of you are there?"

Spyro did a quick count in his head. "Eight… Nine. Not including me or Sparx. Can you help us find them?"

Korrin's hand went back to his beard, his eyes thoughtful, and Spyro held his breath. It had been almost dark when he had entered the Grotto, and he was sure the last of the sun's light would disappear in minutes if it hadn't already. His friends were out there, lost and possibly separated, and who knew what dangers lurked in the forest? Elora had said it wasn't safe at night, and they'd already found it wasn't safe during the day either.

If the fauns couldn't help, Spyro didn't know what he'd do.

"Send out a tracking team," Elora suggested, looking at her father. "They'll find them in an hour or less. It's already sundown. We can't wait much longer."

"I was going to say that myself," said Korrin, looking a little crestfallen. "You're too quick off the mark, Elora. Alright, Spyro, don't look so worried. We'll find your friends in no time. All dragons, you said?"

Spyro nodded numbly, hardly believing his luck. Were the fauns really such skilled trackers that they could find his friends in less than an hour? It didn't seem possible in a forest of such size, but he was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. There wasn't anything he could to do help his friends now, after all.

"Good, good," Korrin clapped his hands together again. "I'll find Satin, organize a team, and we'll have your friends here before dinner!"

"Satin went out to pick duskfruits the same time I did," Elora muttered. "Knowing him, he's probably not back yet."

"Fiddlesticks. I'll do it myself, then." So saying, the chief smiled brightly at Spyro and Sparx and made for the door. He looked over his shoulder just as he brushed aside the curtain. "Make our guests feel at home, won't you, Elora? It's been far too long since the Grotto has played host to a dragon."

Then the ivy curtain swung closed, and Korrin was gone. Spyro stared after him, bewildered at his sudden exit. Sparx hovered a little closer to his head, and Spyro glanced at him.

"Isn't he, like, the chief?" Sparx said. "Shouldn't he get someone else to do this stuff?"

"Dad's a very hands-on chief," said Elora. A smile tweaked her mouth. "I guess I should show you around. And don't worry so much. Your friends will be fine. Our fauns are the finest trackers around."

Spyro tried to smile. Apparently his fears were written all over his face, and there was no hiding it from Elora. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the thought that something awful had happened to his friends—or could be happening to them at this very moment. And he was stuck here, useless to them.

"Eh, I'm not worried," said Sparx. "Cynder can take care of herself."

---

They were lost. Utterly, hopelessly lost. Cynder stood upon the rotting trunk of a tree that had fallen some time ago, scanning the forest in every direction. There was nothing to be seen—nothing but trees, rocks, and more trees. It was so dark now that she couldn't see more than a few paces in front of her, regardless. Ember was sitting with her back to the fallen tree. Her panting sounded magnified in the silence. On a vain hope, Cynder called for Spyro once more. She received no answer, and the forest seemed to swallow up her cry.

Expelling a sigh, Cynder leapt down from the tree trunk and sat at Ember's side. The forest hadn't gotten any cooler in the wake of approaching night, and she felt stiflingly warm after exploring for so long. She was exhausted, and it wasn't hard to tell Ember was too. Defeated, Cynder let herself slump to the ground and her head fell on Ember's shoulder.

A shiver trembled Ember's body and, despite the unbearable heat of the forest, she shifted closer to Cynder. "Do you think they're okay?"

Her voice was quiet and meek, and laced with tiredness. Cynder sighed against her shoulder, glad for her company. "I don't know. I don't even know where we are."

Ember trembled again and her paw groped for Cynder's. She gave a soft, breathy whimper and laid her head on the ground. After a moment, Cynder lifted her head away from Ember's shoulder and looked up. The canopy above them was so dark that she could have been staring up into a black void. No stars; no moon; nothing. Somewhere far away, some sort of night bird trilled a haunting, hollow song.

Cynder wished it was Spyro curled up at her side. But, more than that, she wished everyone was there—that they weren't separated and alone. Comforting though Ember's presence was, Cynder couldn't help but feel that she was the pillar from which Ember drew comfort. And the feeling wasn't entirely mutual. She felt unbalanced; someone was depending on her, but she had no one to depend on. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Ember was her friend. They were equals.

If only her subconscious would believe it. Brushing aside those thoughts, Cynder stood up abruptly. Ember flinched away from her, and Cynder didn't have to look to know that she was staring. "What is it?"

Cynder didn't respond. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and thrust her head to the sky. Red energy exploded from her jaws, leaping in soundwaves straight up towards the canopy. Cynder hardly heard the high-pitched wail that emerged from her throat, but she knew it was piercing, painful, and would carry for miles. The forest around them was tinged red for a few seconds, but as her siren scream died away it fell back into shadow.

Ember was shaking on the ground, staring at her with wide fearful eyes. Sighing, Cynder turned and sat down opposite her. She raised a paw and placed it on Ember's suddenly cold cheek, and drew closer until their foreheads were touching. She closed her eyes. Ember's erratic breathing slowly returned to normal, and the trembles that wracked her body subsided. At length, Cynder retracted her paw and drew back.

Ember was still staring at her, but this time with curiosity and a hint of worry. "Why did you do that?"

"Maybe someone will have seen it," Cynder replied, trying to convey her apologies through a small smile. "Or heard it. Are you alright? I should have warned you."

"I'm okay…" Ember gave a small shake of her head and smiled weakly. It dropped from her face as quickly as it had come. "But what if something else hears it? Something…bad."

Cynder scowled and stood up. "Then we'll show it we're not to be messed with."

Ember swallowed visibly and nodded. In the silence that followed, Cynder paced beside the fallen tree and shot glances into the darkness. A warm gust of wind caused the canopy to sway, but no response to her siren scream made itself known. Eventually, her spirits falling, Cynder turned back to Ember, thinking it was best they continued on. Just as she did, something caught her eye. She froze.

Looming from the shadows behind Ember was a pair of bulging orange eyes. They were set in a flat leafy face that looked vaguely reptilian. Cynder gaped, and it stared right back. A beat of silence passed, and it was as though all time had suddenly halted around her. She saw Ember, oblivious and gazing dolefully in the wrong direction, and she saw the beast in the shadows coiling itself to pounce.

Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, and time resumed with a jolt. Cynder charged forward with a yell that startled both Ember and the creature. The thing opened its jaws, revealing two rows of serrated teeth, and gave an otherworldly hiss. Ember spun around and screamed at almost the exact same moment. She scrambled backwards as Cynder darted past her, collecting acid deep in her throat. The creature charged at the same time.

Her first bolt of acid missed entirely, splattering on the leaf-litter with an ugly hissing sound as the lizard lurched to the side. Cynder skidded to a halt as it turned its attention fully on her, a pitch-black tongue flicking from its wide mouth. Now that it was out of the shadows, she could see it more clearly. It was vaguely lizard-shaped, with a huge low-slung body mounted on four thick legs, and a flat triangular head. Armour that looked like leaves covered the entirety of its head and body, and each leg ended in a set of four wickedly curved yellow claws. It was about the length of a full-grown dragon, but only as tall as her.

With another hiss, the leaf-lizard scuttled towards her, faster than its girth should have allowed. Alarmed, Cynder leapt to the side and its huge head followed her. She flicked her wing up just in time to avoid its snapping jaws. Ember was yelling something, but she couldn't make out what. There was a sudden explosion of orange light and the lizard reeled away, hissing. The scent of smoke reached Cynder just as she noticed the embers blazing on the lizard's flank.

Taking the opportunity, Cynder opened her mouth and screamed. The lizard was engulfed head-first by crimson soundwaves, and it froze to the spot with a single hiss. When Cynder cut off her siren scream, the creature was standing stock-still, its orange eyes bugging more than usual. Snarling, she advanced upon it.

Without warning, the lizard lurched forward and Cynder barely reeled backwards in time. Serrated jaws snapped shut a bare half-inch from her chest, and a heavy paw caught her a blow to the shoulder that slammed her into the ground. Leaf-litter flew up around her, obscuring her vision for a heart-stopping moment. Seized by the claws of panic, Cynder thrashed her tail and scrambled back to her feet. Her blade struck something with a thud that sent a tremor up her tail.

Something hissed close to her head. With a yell, Cynder spun around and blindly spat poison towards it. The leaf-lizard reeled backwards, and there was a frantic scuffle before another explosion of fire forced Cynder to shield her eyes. She felt the heat on her wing, and the scent of smoke grew stronger. There was a scuffle of leaf-litter, and then silence.

Her heart hammering, Cynder slowly uncovered her face. The lizard was sprawled on the ground, one of its legs charred black and held at an unusual angle. It was staring at her with wild eyes as its tongue flicked in and out between its fangs. A closer look revealed a horrible burn wound on the side of its neck that had clearly been caused by her acid shot, and another on its flank that had been caused by fire. It hissed, and Cynder took a step back.

"Wh…what is that?" Ember stammered, stepping to her side. She was panting again and smelled of smoke. Cynder shot her a glance. She looked both terrified and horror-struck.

"I don't know," she admitted, looking back at the lizard. "But I think it thought we were dinner."

The lizard hissed again and its tail jerked wildly. Ember scrambled backwards with a sharp intake of breath, but the lizard had already fallen still again. She stepped a little closer. "What do we do with it now?"

Cynder scowled and looked the lizard over. Its injuries, particularly the one on its neck, looked bad enough that it might never recover. But she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to kill a helpless creature that could no longer fight back. She looked away from its bright, animalistic eyes. "Kill it or leave it. What do you think?"

Ember looked aghast, just as she'd expected. "We can't kill it! It was just doing what predators do!"

"Then we leave it here to suffer and die on its own," Cynder muttered, and winced at how bitter her voice sounded. She hadn't meant to say that so harshly; Ember looked stricken. Cynder sighed. "There's nothing else we can do, Ember. I don't want to kill it either. Let's just…move on."

She half turned away, watching Ember and the lizard out of the corner of her eye. The pink dragoness was staring at the wounded creature with something similar to pity in her eyes. "But…"

Ember sighed and looked away, her paw moving to her necklace again. The lizard hissed and fell silent, and Cynder began to walk away. She heard Ember following, and the lizard hissed and spat behind them. Her jaw set, Cynder slipped through the trees and tried to ignore its pitiful sounds. It was a predator that had chosen the wrong prey; this was its punishment. She shouldn't have to pity it.

Soon enough, the noises of the lizard faded into the distance and silence returned. Ember trailed glumly at Cynder's tail, and neither spoke for several minutes. At length, Cynder tried to break the silence. "Thanks for helping back there, by the way. A lot of dragons would have just frozen up, but you didn't."

Ember made a quiet noise that was nothing more than acknowledgement. Cynder sighed and turned around, stopping her in her tracks. She stared hard into Ember's startled eyes. "Stop feeling guilty. If we hadn't fought back, it would have killed and eaten us both without a second thought. It's a wild animal; that's what they do."

"I know," said Ember, looking away. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she just shook her head.

Cynder turned away. "Let's keep going. And keep an eye out. There might be more hostile creatures out now that it's dark."

Ember didn't respond, but Cynder assumed she had heard. In silence, they continued through the forest as the darkness grew steadily deeper around them. Soon it was hard to see much at all, and worry began to gnaw deeper at her stomach. Not long afterwards, she called a halt and tried once more to gain someone's attention. Her siren scream echoed through the forest and faded back into eerie silence. Cynder sat down with a bump, rubbing her eyes.

"We can't keep going," she mumbled. "We're getting tired and we can hardly see where we're going. We need to find shelter."

"Where?" said Ember, sounding as exhausted as Cynder felt. "There's only trees. In every direction. Have you ever slept in a tree before?"

"There's a first for everything," Cynder muttered. She rubbed her tired eyes again and was about to suggest they at least try looking for shelter, but a distant noise distracted her. She whipped her head towards it. "Did you hear that?"

Ember looked suddenly frightened. "What?"

"It sounded like…" Cynder frowned and listened hard. In the distance, she heard it again—an explosion, this time accompanied by the sound of yelling voices. She was sure of it. Gritting her teeth, Cynder leapt back to her feet. "Come on!"

She took off running without giving Ember a chance to respond, and Ember's startled exclamation followed her through the trees. Confident that she would follow, Cynder focused on the path ahead and listened hard for the noises that would lead her there. They were getting louder and more frequent by the second, and she pushed her legs faster despite the ache of exhaustion setting in. Over roots and rocks she leapt, skidding on leaf-litter and just barely avoiding trees that loomed out of the darkness ahead. The sound of her paws drumming the ground filled her head, but beyond that she could hear the sounds of battle growing ever louder.

With a great leap, Cynder exploded through the underbrush and slammed straight into something hard and sturdy. It reeled sideways under the force of the collision, and she hit the ground beside it. Something was snarling in her ears, and her limbs were tangled with that of whoever or whatever it was she had collided with. They tumbled through the leaf-litter in a blur of dark green and brown, until something caught her a blow to the underbelly and threw her off.

Cynder hit the ground hard and lay gasping for air, utterly winded and aching all over. Something scuffled beside her head, and the yelling was closer than ever before. Her head reeling, Cynder tried to pick herself up. The world spun before her eyes.

"Cynder?"

That voice. As her vision finally settled, Cynder saw a red dragon standing beside her, looking as stunned as she felt. Flame. Relief swept through her and she struggled to her feet. "Thank ancestors we found you!"

"Where—?" Flame was cut off abruptly as Ember burst through the bushes with a high-pitched squeal and threw her forelegs around his shoulders. He fell back on his haunches and Cynder stared as Ember buried her face in the side of his neck. Apparently startled, Flame slowly circled his paws around her. His eyes found Cynder's again and he frowned. "Where have you guys been?! We've been looking for ages! Where's Spyro?"

Cynder heart dropped into her stomach. She frantically scanned the surroundings and was momentarily distracted by the sight of Zannak standing victorious on top of a smoking leaf-lizard. Kazan stood to the side, panting. Nearby, Lumis was standing beside another lizard, the Poison Claws stained with a dark substance that had to be blood. The yelling had stopped. There was no sign of Spyro.

"He's…not with you," Cynder breathed. She sat down heavily. "I…I don't know where he is. We were separated back when the vines attacked."

Flame scowled, "Figures. What about—"

"My sister!" Zannak exclaimed, suddenly skidding to a halt beside them. His bright eyes were fixed imploringly on Cynder. "Have you seen her?"

Cynder could only shake her head, and his face fell. Kazan and Lumis approached slowly, and she saw that Kazan's scales were emitting thin plumes of smoke all the way down to his tail. He looked bitterly annoyed and exhausted. Lumis just looked tired.

"At least you're all okay," said Cynder, turning back to Flame just as he pried Ember away from himself. "But you haven't seen the others?"

"Not a sign of anyone until you appeared just now," Flame said, scowling. There was a cut below his eye that was steadily seeping blood. He swiped it with a paw and glared at the two lizards. "Those damn things attacked us out of nowhere."

"We had to fight one too," said Ember, her voice shaking. She shuddered and leaned into Flame again.

"I guess it's safe to assume the others ran into trouble as well," Lumis cut in grimly. "We should find them as soon as possible."

"If it was that easy, we'd have found them already," Flame snapped. He stood up, curling a wing around Ember and holding her close to his side. His eyes fixed on Cynder. "What do you think? It might be best if we find shelter for the night and look for them in the morning."

Reluctant though she was to leave Spyro alone in the forest, Cynder had to admit that Flame was right. It was too dangerous—the lizards had proven that already. But finding shelter was going to prove difficult in itself. She considered Ember's idea of sleeping in trees, and wondered if it was feasible after all. She didn't get a chance to suggest it.

A low whistle reverberated through the forest, piercing through the silence like a knife. Cynder flinched and spun around, but couldn't pinpoint the source. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and spun towards it, prepared to fight. One of the lizards—the one Lumis had been standing over earlier—was scrambling back to its feet. Judging from the way it was dragging one of his hind legs and tail, it had been paralysed by the Claws and had yet to fully recover. But its focus was not on the dragons. It was staring into the darkness of the forest, utterly silent, and Cynder had the odd sense that it was afraid.

Then, with a tiny hiss, it lurched around and clumsily dragged itself back into the trees. It was gone in moments. The whistle sounded again, this time louder and closer than before. Cynder braced herself, her scales prickling with unease. Whatever it was that was making that noise, it was something that the leaf-lizards feared. She didn't think she wanted to find out.

"Let's get out of here," Kazan hissed, as though he had read her mind.

Cynder nodded quickly and turned to usher them away, but they'd hardly taken a few steps before the whistle sounded again. It was so loud and piercing that Cynder winced and held a paw to her head, freezing in place.

"The heck?" Flame snarled.

Ember was trembling, and so were the bushes all around them. Cynder could hear them shaking under the onslaught of numerous creatures closing in on them. It was too late to run. She gritted her teeth and lowered into a battle stance, prepared to fight. Whatever it was, it was soon to find that she and her friends weren't going down easily.

A yellow glow pierced through the darkness, and Cynder shielded her eyes. Ember yelped beside her, and someone scrambled backwards. She heard heavy steps approach and uncovered her eyes, ignoring the bright lights and filling her jaws with poison. A growl rose in her throat.

"Found 'em!" said a voice.

Dumbfounded, Cynder blinked and let the poison drop from her mouth. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, she realised it came from numerous lanterns held by a group of bipedal creatures emerging from the trees. Creatures with cloven hooves and hairless torsos, and relieved, welcoming smiles on their strangely flat faces. Cynder sat down heavily yet again and wondered how many surprises she could take in a single afternoon.

"Wha—?" Ember sat down beside her, and one of the creatures stepped forward. He was huge and muscular, with a broad chest and an auburn beard arranged in two thick plaits. There was a jolly smile on his face.

"You had us worried for a little while, dragons, but all is well!" he said, to Cynder's great confusion. "My name is Korrin, chief of the fauns, and I'm of the impression you were looking for us?"

Cynder could only gape. He did look just like the picture that the Chronicler had showed them, if a bit bigger and broader than she had expected. But how did he know that they were looking for them?

"Who told you?" Flame demanded, getting into a defensive stance at Ember's side. His eyes flickered to and fro, taking in the group of at least ten fauns with increasing unease. The others were silently stunned.

"A purple friend of yours, of course." The faun chief winked.

Cynder could have hugged him. Her worries drained away like water in a river, and she got to her feet. "Spyro is with you?!"

"He is, he is. And let me tell you, he's a little worried about you all. So, if you will, what say we head on back to the Grotto and rendezvous with him?" Chief Korrin gestured with his huge hands, and Cynder didn't hesitate to follow.

She glanced over to shoulder to find Lumis and Ember were following just as eagerly, and Flame did too after a moment's hesitation. Kazan looked suspicious until Zannak buffeted him across the back of the head with a wing, and the two of them hurried to catch up. Surrounded on all sides by the fauns with their glowing yellow lanterns, Cynder let the chief lead them onwards through the forest.

She had to admit that travelling by lantern light was far preferable to stumbling in the dark. And the promise of seeing Spyro at the end was more than enough to chase the exhaustion from her limbs.

---

"That way leads to the falls." Elora pointed down a moss-lined path between the trees, which quickly turned out of sight. "I'll take you there later, before dinner. You could use a bath."

Spyro nodded absentmindedly, and only then realised that she was looking him over with a judging eye. The heat rushed to his face and he turned away, suddenly self-conscious of the layer of mud and decaying leaves that covered his scales. Elora giggled, and a weak smile tweaked his mouth. She had been showing him and Sparx around the grotto for the better part of an hour, and the whole time Spyro hadn't been able to get his mind off his friends.

What if they were hurt? Or even worse? What if the fauns couldn't find them? What if, what if… Those same questions cycled in his head without end, and Spyro simply couldn't concentrate on everything Elora told him. At the very least, he knew that the Grotto was surprisingly big, and that it was situated in the heart of the forest.

Elora had told him that there were thousands of fauns living there, and even more outside of the Grotto. The forest was so big that they rarely came into contact with these smaller tribes, and they mostly kept to themselves. Among the fauns of the Grotto, they were known as Wild Walkers—named for the 'Wilds', as the forest outside of the Grotto was called.

"Wait, where's Sparx?" Spyro asked, suddenly noticing the absence of his brother. He looked around wildly until he spotted him. His grin returned. Sparx was hovering in front of one of the hanging fruits above their heads, and the little glowing insects were giving him a wide berth. "Sparx!"

Sparx flinched and darted away from the fruit, twisting his antenna in one hand. Spyro grinned as the dragonfly looked down at him, and Sparx scowled. "Don't look at me like that! That thing isn't natural! It's got some sort of creepy witchcraft that's confusing me! Argh!"

He pulled on his antennae with both hands and flitted back to Spyro. Elora was laughing softly, and Sparx turned an accusing glare on her. "What are you laughing about?"

"Who knew dragonflies were addicted to duskfruits too?" She smirked and clasped her hands behind her back.

Spyro raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Duskfruits? You mentioned them before."

"More like evilfruits," Sparx muttered.

"They're called duskfruits because they only grow at dusk and wither by the time the moons have fully risen. We pick them to attract the lightning bugs. They can't resist them." Elora smiled and looked up. Spyro followed her gaze towards the swarms of yellow insects flitting through the branches around the fruits.

"But why do you want to attract them?" he asked.

"For light and heat," said Elora, looking back to him. "You're a dragon, so you're used to the idea of fire, but fire is against ours laws. Fire is the enemy of the forest, so we don't use it. Instead, we use the lightning bugs. The duskfruits attract them at night, they give us light, and then the fruits wither and they leave. It's a natural cycle."

Spyro stared up at the lightning bugs again. He would never have considered such a thing. Fire was such a huge part of dragon life that it seemed startlingly unusual to never use it. "That's…inventive."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it." Sparx crossed his arms and pouted, turning his face away from the hanging duskfruits.

Spyro couldn't help grinning. "Only because you can't keep away from them."

"How would you like it? At least I didn't get smacked in the face with one."

"That only happened because you were being offensive!"

"Details, details."

Spyro rolled his eyes and turned back to Elora, who had been watching the exchange with a large grin on her face. She looked about to say something when a voice called out to them.

"Elora, Elora! You're never going to believe what happened—!" A male faun was rushing towards them, one hand held up in greeting. He had dark brown, bushy head-fur and a bare chest, and on the top of his head were two stubby horns. As he approached, a look of excitement on his face, his eyes fell on Spyro and he slowed to a standstill. An odd look replaced the excitement, and then he folded his arms and pursed his lips—not unlike a pouting hatchling. His voice turned haughty. "Well. Apparently you are."

Spyro stared. Elora stepped past him, and there was something similar to amused exasperation in her voice. "Yes, it's a dragon, Satin. Don't look at him like that. So, what happened?"

The male faun—Satin—turned his head slightly without taking his eyes off them. "I don't know if I want to tell you now."

"Don't be a prude, Satin. You're acting like a kid."

Spyro looked from Satin to Elora and back again, wondering if he'd missed something. They seemed to know each other—at least to the point of being more than mere acquaintances. He wondered if he should introduce himself, but the timing didn't seem quite right.

Satin pulled a childish face. "Well, I wanted you to be excited, but it looks like I'm too late. But, since you asked… I came across a few dragons in the forest and brought them back here. They're in your tree right now, but Korrin isn't there so I came looking for you."

Spyro hardly heard the end of his words; his mind latched onto one thing and one thing only—other dragons. And they were in the Grotto. Fear and excitement shuddered through him and, before he could even think, he was demanding, "Where are they? Take me to them!"

Satin looked briefly taken aback before he straightened up and beckoned with a hand. "Follow me! You too, Elora!"

Spyro didn't wait to see if Elora was following, and he hardly noticed Sparx flying beside his head as he hurried after Satin. The faun seemed to catch onto his urgency, because he quickly broke into a run and Spyro cantered alongside him. They reached Chief Korrin's tree within minutes, and Spyro wasted no time in bursting through the curtains. What he saw when his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light both relieved and disappointed him.

Nadi and Saffron were standing over Roku, who was sprawled across one of the moss beds against the wall. They were both staring at Spyro in surprise, but Roku's eyes were closed and he looked unconscious. There was no sign of Cynder, but Spyro quickly squashed his disappointment. It wasn't fair to them.

"Thank the ancestors you're here," Spyro said, sitting down to catch his breath after his short sprint. The ivy curtain swished, and Satin and Elora stepped in beside him. "Are you alright?"

"We're okay," said Saffron, stepping forward. She pulled Spyro into a swift hug, to his surprise, but quickly let go. The smile on her face was strained. "I'm glad you're okay, too. When did you get here? Are the others with you?"

Spyro bit his lip and looked away, suddenly ashamed. "…They're not. I've been here for about an hour. The fauns are out looking for the others right now."

Saffron's wings drooped. "Oh."

She turned her gaze back to Nadi and Roku, and Spyro did too. The wind dragon was staring at him with an unreadable expression, but there was something daring about the look in his eyes. Nonplussed, Spyro turned his eyes on Roku. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, at least from this distance, other than the fact that he wasn't conscious.

Spyro frowned. "What happened to him?"

A visible shudder passed over Saffron's scales and she looked back at him. "Roku was poisoned. Satin says he'll be alright now, though, since he gave him the antidote."

"Oh. That's…that's good." Spyro swallowed and shuffled his paws nervously, his mind quickly returning to Cynder. What if something like that had happened to her? What if she was lying helpless and poisoned on the forest floor, alone and… No. She was immune to poison. Spyro shook his head, wondering how he'd let his thoughts get so out of paw. Cynder would be fine, and so would the others.

"Don't worry," said Saffron suddenly, as though she had read his mind. Her voice shook slightly. "I'm sure everyone will be here soon. You said the fauns are looking for them?"

Spyro nodded. Elora cleared her throat softly, and he jumped. "Ah, this is Elora. She brought us here. Elora, this is Saffron, Nadi and Roku. They're friends of mine."

"Who would have thought that, after hundreds of years of nothing, a whole bunch of dragons wind up in Enrin on the same night," Elora said with a small, lop-sided smile. "It's a bit crazy."

"Believe me, goat-girl," said Sparx, leaning an elbow on her shoulder, "crazy doesn't even begin to describe us."

"Mmhm. You know, I believe you." She pinched one of Sparx's antennas between her fingers and plucked him away from her shoulder.

"Oi! Hands off!" Spyro struggled until she let him go, and fluttered away looking affronted. Grumbling, he settled down on Spyro's head and pouted.

"So, who wants to tell us what you're all doing here, eh?" Satin clapped his hands and looked from one dragon to the other, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

Spyro smiled weakly. "I would, but I'd rather wait until everyone is here and we can talk to your chief."

Satin looked crestfallen, but Elora shooed him into a small chair beside the door and turned to Spyro. "Let's go wait for Dad. He should be back soon. Coming?"

Spyro hesitated and glanced at Sparx and Saffron. "Uh… Y-yeah, I guess. Sparx?"

"Right beside you, broseph."

"I think we'll stay," said Saffron, smiling apologetically. She shot a look towards Nadi, and there was something about her expression that piqued Spyro's interest. He considered her for a moment, wondering if he was imagining things, but decided not to question it.

"We'll be back soon," he said instead. "With the others, hopefully."

Nodding at Satin, Spyro passed through the ivy curtain after Elora with Sparx hovering at his side. Night had well and truly fallen outside, but the Grotto was still illuminated by the glow of countless lightning bugs. Sparx seemed to be making a point of looking at the ground now, as though he was afraid to see another duskfruit and be drawn in by its apparently irresistible pull.

Neither he nor Elora spoke as they made their way through the Grotto to the wall of vines that separated it from the Wilds. Elora had said that, as long as the fauns continued to pay their respects to Gaea, the goddess of nature in their culture, the forest would continue to protect them. Spyro wasn't sure he believed it, but he didn't think it right to question the beliefs of an entire culture. He had never heard of other deities besides the elusive dragon 'Ancestors.'

Soon enough, he found himself at the foot of the vine wall once again. Elora seated herself on a large root, and Spyro sat down in the moss beside her. He fidgeted impatiently as Sparx flitted to and fro above his head, gazing always at the vines and hoping that Cynder would soon appear through it. Time passed as though in slow motion, and soon Spyro found his eyelids drooping. With his belly against the soft moss, he stared at the vines and waited. Tired as his body was, he was simply too worried to sleep. And until Cynder was beside him once more, that wouldn't change.

He didn't notice when Elora started singing again, but eventually he realised that the silence was no longer unbroken and her voice was drifting softly about his head. The words were in no language he understood or had heard before, but he listened all the same. Sparx was now resting in the sharp angles of one of his horns, and quiet snoring told Spyro he was asleep.

Now all he needed was Cynder to be there.

Spyro must have drifted into a doze, because he returned to reality with a start when the sound of footsteps approached the other side of the vine wall. He dared to hope that Cynder was there at last, and it seemed to take far too long for the vine wall to be pushed aside. But suddenly Chief Korrin was there, beaming through his auburn beard as he held the vines out of the way and let his entourage stream through. Elora had stopped singing.

Spyro scrambled to his feet, and as the group poured into the Grotto, he fixated on a single dragoness. Cynder, covered in mud and looking exhausted, but whole and unharmed. Her eyes fell upon him, a smile broke across her face, and suddenly she had never looked so beautiful.

She ran to him without a word, and Spyro didn't care to speak as he drew her into his forelegs and hugged her to his chest. Her paws circled around his shoulders and she nuzzled the soft scales at the base of his jaw as he encompassed her with his wings.

He inhaled her scent—a sweet, cinnamon tang—and resolved never to let her go. Not again; he wouldn't allow himself to be separated from her. Her breath tickled the side of his neck as she sighed and raised her head.

Their muzzles met in a slow dance, and she drew her tongue along the line of his jaw. Spyro pulled her close, and met her eyes across the bridge of their snouts. Cynder's eyes seemed to smile back at him, despite the exhaustion in their depths. He wanted to tell her so many things; how he was glad she was alright, how he had been terrified to be separated from her, how he was so relieved to have her back in his wings. But the words all stuck in his throat.

"I love you," she said.

A smile tweaked the corner of his mouth. It didn't matter that the others were staring. Not really. "I love you too."

"Oh jeez," muttered Sparx. "Get a nest."

---

A/N: Am I being too fluffy? Sparx thinks so. xD I think I'm turning into a hopeless romantic, because next chapter's even worse. Speaking of next chapter, as with the last two times, it's already written. And same as the last two chapters, it could probably use a fair chunk of rewriting. Expect it in another two weeks or so.

I'm sure you all saw Elora coming. I mean, fauns. Come on. Next chapter's a bit filler-y, but full of silly fun times and a bit of important stuff besides (aka Magic Crafter stuff). And after that... Back to Warfang we go! See you all in 2014, and have a great New Year's Eve/Day. Don't go too crazy. :P

And of course, thank you more than I can possible say for all of the wonderful reviews. We just passed 800 and I can't even. I'm so glad you all like reading this crazy convoluted messy plot-explosion of a story. You people are the best. See you in the new year!

Much love. :3