Autumn Plains, Avalar

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Standing firm on a rooftop courtyard, slackened arms rising as growing wings swept air into lift past her shoulders, Elora looked up to the lavender beast rising into the air at will, hoisting her vertically from the cut and cobbled stone with a stretch of her toned auburn arms. Grinning from the departure of mass from her hooves, as the intended ballast of yet another hovering dead lift per Spyro's request, she peeked around her shoulders from their gain in altitude, seeing cloud-shrouded geography peeking above the blanket of vapor. Rising again to the reptilian silhouette, the innocent blues of the open sky around his muscular labors gave a poignant reminder of the home realm's latent altitude, already boosted by the breadth of the great castle perched high above the world it oversaw for millennia.

"L-Landing."

Exhaling from his breathy seep, sinking below the peaks and ridges of giant dark green roof tiles, her hooves then found the squared stones beneath, and her knees took her bodily weight in a settling of personal suspension. Awaiting his delayed landing, big clawed toes plopping onto the same cobbled plane in a meaty thump, Elora released his forward limbs, allowing what now constituted arms to sink down as well. Bringing her idled digits back in a retraction of interest and uncertainty, she stepped beside him, and then over his tail with a small prance, bumping down onto her upper knees around his rump and flattening his golden crest in a bodily sink.

"How are you feeling?"

"Feeling? Fine. Just need to breathe, hah."

Looking to the forward point of her finger toward the horizon as her arm extended into view, the reptile squinted amid oxygenation.

"You keep pulling me up, which is great to practice but... Can we try going forward again?"

"We can. I'm sure gliding is doable, ahm..."

Turning and meeting her patient and interested irides, Spyro sighed with uncertainty, only for her pointed arm to bend lower across his chest plating, tightening in embrace.

"...Only if you think you're ready, actually. You can tell me if you aren't, I promise I won't m-"

"I'm ready." I'm always ready! That's who I am.

Pushing up onto all fours, in a reprisal of his former stance of travel, Spyro's nostrils flared as Elora's shanks hesitantly bent around his gut, taking her full weight on his posture as she draped forward, sinking into a nearly prone position astride his hide.

"Elora."

"Yes?"

"I've meant to ask... Am I big enough for you to, uh, be up on me?"

"I think so. When you're like this, you're way longer. I just need to hold onto you somehow."

"Not my wings."

"Nuh uh."

Curling both of her forearms around his shoulders, and then pushing her lips into his neck, dragging her nose across his stiff ridge of golden hair, she puffed with preparative breath.

"Think you can make it to the field down there?"

"I'll have to turn in the air over the cliffs."

"Sounds like something you can handle, mister wings."

Smiling from the recurrent nickname, given by the only creature allowed to label him as such, Spyro tightened his stance upward, and Elora tingled with excitement from the bobbing of his four-legged movement, orienting them towards the nearby ledge of the rooftop.

"Alright. I'm going to run, uhm, hang on."

"Hanging on." You've got this, Spyro.

Surging forward in a heady gallop, with Elora's limbs tightly wound around his capable mass, hearts raced with labor and excitement alike as their heavy stride towards the ledge increased in speed. With a heave and bounce upward, punctuated by Spyro's grunting, his wings thrust outward in a taught spread, taking flight and turning to the right in a broad arc past the first of the castle's peaked turrets. Flapping several times, finding their clockwise glide continued in a sinking trend despite his effort, his toes curled after realization, looking on and orienting toward the wide pale walls further and lower. Beaming from their gentle turns through the open air, both of them adrift in the passing swirls that shot up from the smooth sides of the perimeter architecture, Elora's follicles tingled from the unpredictable buffets of cool air from her mate's sweeping turns beyond the safety of the walls. Nose pointing out into the passing wind, drawn towards the four enchanted trees beneath, a year-old visual returned to her mind of chasing Spyro through the long leaf-strewn grass, and a giggle left her lungs, garnering his ear in a turn.

"Probably landing soon!"

"Okay!"

Shifting from his tighter turn to the right, tilting her lower in a precarious slide of soft fur across flat scales, all four of her knees tightened as his legs spread outward in a preemptive widening. Seeing the meadow within the walls gaining in detail, with splotches of colors from flowers and weeds alike whizzing past, he turned towards a hillock's friendly rise, and his wings began tilting up in aerial braking, flapping to slow their momentum.

"Stopping!" I think!

Finding herself entirely captive to their return to the ground, unable to adjust her posture, Elora braced her limbs for a possible crash, bouncing her bones into him in a jarring jerk as his paws collided with the rising hillside in a bounce. Attempting to run, only to tear through stalks of grass and heavily slide across fallen leaves on his forward arms, their rumps remained higher in the air as they came to a halt with faces full of low foliage. Loosening her limbs, and then flopping aside off of him, the faun sprawled into the leaf-strewn green beside, shaking in a giggle. Garnering Spyro's attention from the sweet chime of laughter, his rump and tail both flattened onto the earth, and his dorsal features rose and sank with respiration between tired and flat wings.

"Spyro!"

"Yeah-hah?"

"We did it!"

"Kind of."

"We just flew around this place without portal magic!"

"More of a glide, um..."

Remaining in place as she twisted over in a spree of energy, glomping him in a return of her features soft and firm, Elora then pushed into his shoulder, heaving him into a roll onto his side. Inspecting the patterned glints of his scales in the late morning light, adorning the sculpted flesh beneath, she squeezed his nearest limb, vision feasting upon his increasing size and strength.

You, are, so hot. "Well, gliding or whatever, I loved it."

Forming into his features, tucking closer to the dragon's gentle resting, she fondly met his large-eyed gaze, reaching up and pulling herself closer with her arms leveraged behind his horns.

"I'm glad you did. Next time we'll fly longer."

Touching his snout with the tip of her own nasal bridge, and then her lips into his upper folds in a fleeting greeting, her smile materialized again against his lip.

"You fly however long you want to. Okay?"

"I know I can do better, with practice."

Fingertips drifting along the spiraling striations of his horns, her cheeks warmed from his insistence, and her own admiration.

"I know you want to do better... But you don't have to."

"I don't have to... But I always like to. I like proving to everyone that I'm always getting better."

Eying him with a quirk of her brow, Elora's chest thrummed with emotion.

"Proving to me?"

"You and everyone else."

"Don't worry about me then."

"Why?"

"'Cause, dork, ever since I met you... Things have gotten much better with you around."

Hiding herself in another giggle, Elora nuzzled his lower lip, feeling his outward draft issue and pull through her locks. Taking in the scent of her voluminous hair, Spyro patiently eyed the shuffle of her chestnut locks seated between her ears.

It amazes me how you never run out of nice things to say. But I don't need to ask if you're being honest... You always are. I love that. Tell the world like it is, you sweet treasure of mine. Tell me how things are. Tell me how you feel, every day and night. That way I don't have to guess, and... That way, I never stop hearing your voice.

Zephyr, Avalar

Basking in an afternoon glow, cast between the shadows of stuck-together amalgamations of timber and bark, towering on trunks and spindly cliffside footings, Elora remained in a rearward lean, parchment tucked beneath her arm, and a waft of manure wrinkling her nose in passing. Attention sinking from the simple-worded conversation between Sergeant Tub and both Gronk and Glug of neighboring Skelos Badlands, discussing the nuances of mechanical artillery versus Catbats, her vision alighted upon the glinting round pommel of her sheathed dagger on her hip.

Never have facilitated a sale of a cannon, but... The war here is over and done. Surplus is surplus.

Dragging the tip of her thumb across the shaped iron, meeting her index finger on the other side, she then looked up to the purple posture of Spyro, also leaning on the wall just beside.

To think you fought on both sides... And wiped out both of their invading forces. Do they know that?

Meeting his huge irides, furrowed by the lowering glare of the sun's rays, his upper limbs - arms - remained crossed.

Tub and Blub heartily welcomed you back... Maybe they don't know? Ignorance is bliss I guess.

Flitting beyond to the nearby grazing of cowlecks among bomb-cratered land, ear turning from the laughter of slugs and cavemen alike, Elora then realized both parties were peeking at her, with Glug waving his skull staff in a beckoning.

"Faun girl, come."

"We've done found ourselves a deal."

"Ooh! In that case..."

Bounding into a skip forward, bringing the annotated paper from her armpit, she then plucked the tubed phoenix quill from the depths of her backpack, and held both outward.

"Just need a sig... Scribble on here that you've agreed to your exchange, and..."

"Ooh. Right. Payment. One moment."

Turning to Sergeant Tub as he twisted with a grunt, a stubby gelatinous arm plucking the quill, he managed a respectable drag of legible runes, and Elora then offered the fire-born writing utensil to Glug, who handed his staff to his bone-headed cousin.

"Badlands will do well to be rid of seasonal Catbat scourge."

"Glug not a pet person."

"Catbat make terrible pet anyway."

Mildly amused by the cavemen's remarks, as an expected fist-drawn scribble began and ended, Elora rolled up the paper and quill, slipping both into her bag and then stepping back as Gronk began handing off several large gems to the smiling slug soldier.

"Private Blorp!"

"Sir!"

"Get that cart and cowlek team ready, we're making a delivery!"

Glancing aside from the source of the newly appearing voice, with several other gastropods following in a squishy hustle across the pasture, Elora smiled contently, from the transaction's completion, and from Spyro's lackadaisical footfall approaching behind. Resting her palm on the dagger's pommel, in a recently discovered idle perch for her arm, she hummed discreetly as Spyro reentered her peripheral vision, also watching the rounding up of local livestock.

If anything... Having this blade on my side, when Spyro isn't by my side... Is sort of reassuring at times. Not that I need it now, or have needed it at all lately. But even when I do...

Inspecting the dragon's upright posture once more, her eyes rose from his clawed toes to the outward points of his horns and well defined snout, her own cheekbones warming from a hint of a blush.

...You'll have my back. Sexy beast.

Sunny Beach, Avalar

Clutching her own hands with firmly intersected fingers, arms coiled around Spyro's neck, Elora's wide eyes squinted from the spray of ocean waves just beneath, and a breath of velocity forced into her lungs as the reptile she was astride turned almost straight upward, wings thrusting and plated chest heaving with determination.

"Whoo-hoooo!"

Producing an outburst of success as their flight above the coastline leveled again, the dragon's wings spread straight into a descending glide, banking their heading into a turn and paralleling the warm sand. Turning around several eroded falls of giant rocks, cleaved from the continental cliff that shrouded the turtle-populated Aquaria caves, the airborne couple managed to keep nearly level, zooming past the gated city and staying aloft above the gentle crests of the sea. Trying to ignore the creep of fatigue in his wingstems from flapping numerous times, attempting to rest them in a series of long glides, he tilted into another turn, feeling his girlfriend's heft shift across his back, legs tightening in a stiff squeeze.

Oof. I may be strong but your legs still are... Solid!

Leveling off, wiggling as the flightless female readjusted her position astride his dorsal ridge, Spyro squinted from the sharp bloom of ache behind his shoulders, causing him to turn again towards the sand.

"Might, probably, going to land!"

"We've been in the air for a while! Go ahead!"

Keeping low against his undulating flesh as his wings fluttered wearily, Elora braced herself for the incoming return to the surface as they sank lower to the bleached grit bordering the continent.

If there was a way... Or even, some kind of saddle thing... Need to have a way to hold onto you, without actually holding onto - "Eeep!"

Finding Spyro's slowing glide had actually fallen short, depositing both of them into the shallows of receding water, both creatures heavily flopped apart onto the wet sand, met thereafter by a strong wave that pushed both of their fumbling strides along into a stumble, soaking their limbs in passing.

"Sorry b-babe!"

"You're fine! I know you're trying."

"I'm... Yeah."

Splashing closer in the cool surf after his exhausted sigh, she ducked beneath his shoulder and rose firmly, taking on his weary weight with ample stamina and rapport.

"You're doing better and better, and I love you so much."

Eliciting a smile from his chops, moreso as she squished a kiss into his huge cheekbone, she nuzzled the side of his snout, pulling his arm over her shoulder.

We need a saddle, and I need to figure out how to convince you to wear one.

Breeze Harbor, Avalar

Navigating various wide ledges and cobblestone tunnels, winding around and beneath industrial structures and interconnected steam piping, Spyro glanced upward from the silhouette of a pelican soaring past, feathers outlined by the passing light of oil lanterns and boiler fires. Speaking little along their navigation, with rattling fittings and clanking machinery broadcast into the open air of the evening, both Elora and Spyro wordlessly gestured and helped the other climb through the busy shelves of avian-populated dwellings and industry, with nary a road or consistent travel path to speak of, aside from the haphazard travels of carts along a railway held up by spans of riveted girders.

Nope. Get your own gears. I like the roller-coaster in Dragon Shores, but riding around on this one is a great way to suffer.

Quirking toward Spyro's errant head shaking, disavowing something yet to be revealed, Elora peered further, seeing a row of doors to numerous dwellings along the curved flank of iron girders and heavy brick.

Let's see, looking for... "Talon's Tannery! Here!"

Turning their heading to the riveted timber entry, Elora halted in front of the wide door, and with a backpack's shuffle of rising and settling shoulders, her furry digits curled and rapped on the center plank. Flitting aside to the opening of a shutter, large owlish eyes appeared on a small silhouette, and the horizontally-hinged-hatch abruptly shut again.

"Huh."

Blinking as the larger door opened, the posture of a much larger and streamlined bird of prey appeared, finding two vastly differing land-dwellers inspecting his feathered features with curious eyes.

"Evening."

"Hi! Are you Talon?"

"Connor."

Blinking from the short correction, Elora then looked down to the falcon's feet as a much smaller owl appeared, head tilting completely sideways from the vaguely familiar presence of Spyro.

"This is Talon. My boss."

"Evening, miss faun. Spyro."

Cupping her hands from the smaller voice, Elora found herself delighted by the pint-sized bird that looked cute enough to pick up and cuddle.

"We were told to come here for leather work."

"Is that so?"

"It is. Are you able to do that at this hour?"

"We are, and we do. Come hither. Consultation comes first."

Looking on as Talon moved swiftly around an idly standing Spyro, taking a variety of measurements of the quadruped-stanced creature with remarkable flourish, Connor eyed a seated and patiently listening Elora just across.

"...After the war's end, there was little need for new armor, so we turned to the utilitarian population for business."

"I've seen the vests on the pelicans."

"Many of the harbor workers wear our craft. For as much as we are reliant on fire for steam, fireproofing our feathers is of concern too."

"I can imagine."

"I'm certain you can, being in league with a natural flame factory as this one is."

Grunting from the comment and Elora's unseen giggle, Spyro looked down to the large glassy eyes of Talon, who eyed him with another tilt of his head, before strutting out of sight beneath his rigid posture.

"Faun."

"Yes?"

"Describe the saddle, as you imagine it."

"Well, just a big cover over most of his back, shoulders to his butt, with loops on both sides for my hooves. Ooh, and one on the top middle, over his back, to hold onto."

"Stirrups..."

"Have you birds ever made a dragon saddle?"

"Not until this evening, it would seem."

Rising to her feet and digging into her backpack, Elora produced a pair of silver medallions, setting one beside the small owl scribbling measurements with a graphite stick, and then turning and offering the other to Connor with an open palm.

"Will these be enough?"

Realizing the inherent silence of both birds gazing at the glinting disks, reflecting the wiggles of their shop's candle light, she looked back and forth awaiting their response, and then watching as Connor delicately drug the large coin from her palm with his feather tips, visibly mesmerized by the shiny payment, before tucking it under his wing.

"Yes."

"Oh, good."

"Now that I have dimensions and you've been so prompt, we will begin work. Do be so kind and allow us time and space to labor."

"We can do that."

"We will need Spyro here back later on, for fitting."

Eyes meeting, Elora brimmed with excitement as she began toward the shop's clutter-shrouded entry, and Spyro ambled off the elevated measurement space, stretching back up into his upright posture with a groan.

"Whennn-guh, should we come back?"

"I'll find the two of you, worry not. This harbor isn't as big as it first seems."

Seated in a snuggle against rough-cut brick, with Spyro's scale-clad muscle shrouding her sides and her locks flattened by his chin seated on her head, her arms remained curled around his thighs, knees angled up on both sides. Gazing onward between his lower limbs and enveloped by his enduring warmth, the superstructure and wing surfaces of a large steam airship gained detail as it meandered toward the dock several stories below in a slowing pace, affixed propellers above and aft slowly spinning. With its metallic surfaces reflecting the blue and purple hues of the large ringed celestial body in view, much akin to the tint of Spyro's hide, the dragon then tilted aside, peeping toward the faun and her backpack safe within his grasp.

"A saddle."

"Mmhm. Might help us with our flying."

"Might?"

"Yup."

"You're not sure it will?"

"I'm not, but there's nothing wrong with trying something new."

"Yeah. True."

"When we have flown, every time you turn, I slide around a lot. I'm sure you've felt it."

"Every time."

"So... If we have a thing wrapped around you, that keeps me from sliding and gives me something to hold onto that isn't your body..."

"I getcha."

"Worth a shot, right?"

"Yes."

"So, once they're done making... Oh, hey there!"

Blinking from Elora's abrupt switch of speech and the brush of her ear from a turning head, Spyro then realized the presence of Talon, standing near with his beak pointed dutifully towards the stars.

"It is time. Please follow as you are able."

Scrambling upright one by one as the avian hopped near to the ledge in front of them, Elora swung her backpack onto her shoulders and hugged Spyro, arms tightening around his neck. Understanding her preparative intent, the lavender dragon sank onto all fours, allowing Elora a moment to pull herself forward. Certain she was ready after her fingers tapped on his collarbone, he tromped forth to the ledge with increasing speed, jumping free with a grunt and heave and turning in the air over plummeting cliffs with numerous flaps of his spread wings. Managing to correct her posture astride him, the couple was then witness to the speed and agility of the slender owl that passed them in a tighter turn.

"Look at him go!"

Imagining several raceways previously conquered and subsequent treasure gained, Spyro dove to gain speed, swooping up and flapping in a fervor to gain additional altitude, and then coasting in behind the easy turns of the avian. Soaring over angles and peaks of iron plate rooftops and between brick chimneys belching smoke, with orange magma-like pools of molten slag offering a cushion of rising heat, the couple then angled down in another steeper glide, only for Spyro to put on the brakes with rearward flaps of his wings, slowing their descent as the owl alighted onto the back porch of the shop with an concise cessation of his graceful flight. Managing to safely land on all fours, with Elora springing free from her boyfriend's lowering, she watched with mirth as Connor appeared with the leather fabrication draped across his wings.

"Here we are."

Pausing beside the mammalian customer, allowing her to look over the distinct tan fabric and its thick stitching, as well as the three requested loops placed atop and yet to be attached, her teal eyes pored over the flexible object.

"Given your mighty legs there, miss Faun, we thought it best to wait on attaching the stirrups until we get a proper look at how you two, ahem... Fit together."

Following Connor's clicking footfall toward Spyro, placing the saddle components onto a table that unfurled with a startling lever-activated clatter, Talon hopped onto the large hinged surface.

"Come, dragon."

Padding closer and bounding up onto the hefty hinged furniture, Spyro then eyed the small owl that gestured for his front left leg to rise. Feeling the layer of leather settling onto his dorsal ridge around his wings, draping around his sides, he lifted his paw, and one of two holes in the material slid past his claws and up along his arm, pulled tight against his shoulder muscle.

"Good. Now starboard metatarsus."

"What?"

"Right foot."

"Paw."

"One in the same."

Allowing the opposite hole of the odd-smelling fabric to swallow his right arm, Spyro stood firm as the leather was pulled tight in several places, and an iron buckle was clasped around his belly. Peeping toward a greatly interested Elora as she observed the ongoing fitting, he tried to hide his sigh of uncertainty.

"I imagine your hide is sturdy enough to repel needles, sir dragon, but please remain as still as you can regardless."

"'Kay."

Looking on as a small sail-masted schooner wandered past in the air, driven by whatever magic and wind it harnessed out of the still night air, Spyro let controlled breath seep out of his innards.

This is weird. But it might help.

Peeking back to Elora once again, finding her gingerly nearing, she leaned into his forward view with a coy smile decorating her comely expression.

"Hey handsome."

"Hey. What does it look like?"

"They're not done yet."

"But you can see it."

"Miss faun, please be so kind as to mount Spyro here."

Winking at her boyfriend from the smirk creeping onto his expression, Elora clambered up onto the table, carefully lifting her shank up and over his back, and settling her rump onto his dorsal ridge.

I'll be mounting you alright. Later on. "I like this middle handle."

"Position your hooves where they are comfortably retracted."

"Like this?"

Holding steady as the outline of her large single toes were marked onto the leather, she reached forward and brushed her fingers into his bristled crest in soothing pushes and drags. Paying little attention to the studious work around her toes, with small pushes and pulls indicative of ongoing sewing, she fondly eyed her patiently rigid partner, reaching up and touching the crystal pendant draped on her collar.

Just a little longer, my love.

"Stand please."

"Hm?"

"Upright. Load bearing."

"Oh."

Rising aloft, balancing in a wobbly stretch to full height, her vision shot down to the stirrup straps around her hooves, holding her personal weight in its entirety with the saddle pad stretched taught.

Oh, wow.

"Excellent."

"Is it good?"

"One more reinforcement..."

Lowering again from Connor's drawl, Elora daintily seated herself onto the fabric pad spread across Spyro's backside, inspecting the geography of his covered muscle with prods of fingertips. Feeling the saddle shift from a testing tug, the falcon then stepped back, crossing his wings, and Elora watched as the smaller owl flew up onto his employee's shoulder in an easy perch.

"Done. You can rest, Spyro."

"Ooooh, yay."

Deflating onto his rear, Elora awkwardly stepped out of the stirrups from the abrupt tilt back, and then inspected both sides of his newly completed addition with opposing leans.

"Well Spyro, it looks interesting, and we should try it out."

"Should we?"

"It is done, yeah?"

Met with both of the avian's nods of affirmation, she then clasped both hands around the wide central handle across his shoulder blades, only to lean forward and land her chin between his horns.

"...When you're rested, and ready."

Looking up in a gentle nudge, he gazed onward at the giant ringed moon in the dark sky with feigned contemplation.

"I'm ready."

"Oop! Guess soooo!"

Chirping as his rear legs pushed upright, tail eagerly rising up between her haunches, she shuffled forward, shoving her hooves into the stirrups and pushing them forward and out, pleased by the reassuring resistance countering her movements.

"Alright. I think I'm ready too."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure!"

Launching forward over the railing in a vocalized heave of effort, folding his limbs amid the subsequent dive of rapid acceleration, Spyro's orange and golden wings flexed outward, and with a twist of lift, they arced level and back upward, swooping past previously unseen spires of rock tangled with discarded building debris and rusting remains of shipwrecks mired in the unforgiving geography. Rocketing upward into the night sky, with the noted absence of desperately clinging arms sliding around his neck, Spyro angled over in a tight apex turn, leveling out in a helix glide, feeling only the distinct overall tightening of the fabric around his shoulders and back, and firm presses of her legs against his sides.

"You doing alright?!"

"That dive was pretty scary and awesome!"

"Is that a yes?!"

"I'm still with you, aren't I?!"

Smirking from her wind-swept holler near his ear, Spyro dove down again, twisting up into a broader banked turn in the opposite direction and rising into a passing fog bank, briefly obscuring the light and fire of the dwellings and industry.

"How is it for you?!"

"You're not sliding around and scaring me with each turn!"

"This handle is great! The feet things too!"

Turning tighter, peeking back and seeing her leg firmly planted in the stirrup against his side despite their tilt, Spyro's heart pounded with pleasant surprise from the distinctly easier maneuverability in all directions, filling every corner of his scaled being with excitement from the giggles and laughter and whoops of his mate, astride his back and much less likely to plummet to her doom.

"Oh my gosh Spyro, we should have looked into something like this ages ago!"

"Is it cool if I land?!"

"Uh huh!"

"I'm not tired yet but, just making sure we get back to that place!"

Angling downward, feeling Elora slump forward onto her bosom, Spyro arched back in a steady hovering decline, easily orbiting toward the work table, and both birds awaiting their return beside it. Lowering to a succinct plop of landing, with the hinges of the unfolded table squeaking from their arrival of combined weight, the couple exhaled, and Elora turned to both Connor and Talon with a grin of glee.

"This is amazing."

"Glad to hear. Thankfully our home is noisy enough at all hours, that your banter will hardly register."

"Oh, right, oops."

"No worries. Flight for the flight-less must be quite a thrill."

"It is! My gosh, are you sure that silver was enough for this? Its so stable and I don't feel like I'm going to fall off with every turn."

"The silver is more than enough. Gratuity, even."

"Well, then, thank you for making this. This saddle thing is going to do a lot for our traveling hopefully."

"That it shall. Thank you for finding your way to our shop, misses Elora, and mister Spyro."

"We'll be sure to come back to you two if it needs any repairs, right?"

"Right."

Patting her answering boyfriend's neck with her palm, Elora then gestured to the birds with a friendly wave.

"Thanks again!"

"Good flying, you two!"

Saluted militarily by Connor, and sent off with a distinct flit of his much smaller wing, Talon watched as the colorful and animated creature couple leapt aside in a final departure, fading toward the realm's portal glowing distantly on the opposite side of the harbor.

"Talon, sir."

"Mm."

"Have you ever seen a dragon, flown by another creature?"

"Not in any of my years."

"Thought not."

Turning the medallion in his foot's grasp, Talon then twisted his head fully upside down toward his much larger employee.

"A curious sight, but customers all the same."

"Yup. Now that they're out and away... Closing up shop."

"Roger."

Mystic Marsh, Avalar

Soaring around great trunks and trotting across the outer edges of circular platforms, completely avoiding rope-suspended bridges spanning large interconnected treehouses, Spyro maintained a steady racetrack pattern around the realm's inhabited dwellings, wings cutting through rampant humidity that only his speedy soars could relieve. Banking tightly around one treehouse's trunk, a cheeky chortle left his maw, and Elora peeped up between his horns, seeing him homing in on a grazing group of snail elephants. Clutching the thick leather band in her grasp, certain she didn't want to be flattened by the large animals in case of an unintended dismount, she remained low behind his horns as they zoomed past at eye level, humming with a tickle of mirth from his continuing laughter as the shelled grazers scattered in a noisy spree in several directions behind.

"Better not land near them any time soon!"

"They look tough, but a good flame blast knocks them on their asses!"

"Hope sooo!"

Leaning opposite of his tilted turns, still learning the finer nuances of counterbalancing, Elora took in a breath of the muggy marsh air, much like the Beast Maker's swamp a year prior, brushing her sweat-soaked brow into her forearm in a swipe.

To think we toured almost all of the dragon realms, without flying at all. Walking and climbing everywhere. All I've done in my life is walk, and run, and climb. Now Spyro is all strong and we're flying all over the place. This is a workout for both of us... Him keeping us in the air, and me staying up on his back. Eyes and ears. I can look behind when he can't, and he can actually fly longer now that I'm not trying to hold onto him for dear life.

Hunching down as they rocketed beneath the shade of a large leafy branch, greeted by the misty spray of the realm's large fountain, and then soaring across ponds and open expanses of shallow and foliage-strewn water, Elora glimpsed their watery reflection, teased by the mirrored sight of their aerial travel.

Come to think of it... We're starting to go pretty fast, now that we're staying in the sky more. If we come across any people that decided to start launching things at us... Spyro might be able to breath fire at them, but I can't exactly use my knife from long range.

Picturing her nomadic feline friend Hunter, with a bow and quiver on his back and his agility hardly slowed by such, Elora then slumped back, gazing up into the innocent fog-muted colors of the morning sky, witness to a sizable flock of birds hurrying onward to parts unknown.

I think I need something to hit things from range... Like his bow.

Peeking back to her stubby tail, buffeted by the airflow, with Spyro's longer balancing limb swaying further beyond, its gold-colored tip glinted in punctuation.

A bow, or something like it.