As Spyro laid in the cave, Cynder was out gathering food and firewood. It had not started raining yet, but it was approaching. With a quick shot of shadow breath, Cynder was invisible to a deer in her vicinity. After a fatal blow, the deer was no more, but rather a mere meal in her and Spyro's near future. "Thank you for the food." Cynder recognized the ancestors presence in giving her strength to hunt the deer.
"That about does it, food and firewood. Wait. Can spyro breathe fire? If at all, it should be a spark to ignite a fire. Ignite." Cynder recalled the events leading up to Maleafor's defeat. Specifically, that of Ignitus getting them through the ring of fire by sacrificing his life. Cynder trotted off in the direction of the cave as raindrops began descending from the sky. After a brisk flight in the rain shower, Cynder made it back to the cave where her new lover dwelled.
"How are you holding up?" Cynder asked Spyro. Still sore, he rose to sit with his paws in front of him, legs behind. "Famished." Spyro sarcastically stated, knowing full well Cynder had a deer with her. "Can you breathe fire?" Cynder questioned her slumped purple cushion. With what little energy Spyro had inside of him, a spark flew onto the firewood Cynder had recently gathered. "With the state your body's in, it's probably best for you to have something cooked rather than raw." Cynder gave a look of worry to her companion. "Sure." Spyro acknowledged her request. "I saw a bucket over there, maybe you can fill it up with some rain water. "I love you, Spyro. It gives me a sense of purpose that's not for bad intentions." "I love you to, Cynder" Spyro responded weakly.