Spyro's estimate of if he broke his leg was off. It was just a mere fracture. It took not more than a few days of rest. "There's no avoiding this. People want to see us." Spyro gave his thoughts on the start of a life without privacy together with his mate, Cynder.
"Can you fly yet? That'll determine how much we can speed this up." Cynder remarked with sadness knowing they're celebrities.
The irony of this situation was that the opposite emotion, joy, was conveyed with the first flight of Spyro since his battle with Malefor.
"I guess my wings say yes." Spyro said with a smirk.
"Hunter said he'd meet us in Warfang. Said something about a party." Cynder tried to cheer up her companion.
"Well, if were gonna show our faces, might as well go big or go home. But, in this case, I'd rather go home." Spyro frowned at the prospect of getting harassed with the word "Saviour" over and over again.
"Maybe this'll get you motivated." Cynder planted a kiss on Spyro's cheek.
"Thanks. When we get there, I want US to show US. Nothing fake." Spyro gave a plan for how they would handle the crowds.
"Of course." Cynder responded. And with that, the two were away. As the wind wisped past them, Spyro couldn't help but think about that dream he had a few days prior. "Is he really alive?" Spyro thought to himself. Deep in his thoughts, Spyro couldn't hear Cynder call out to him.
"Spyro!" Cynder yelled, snapping him out of his trance.
"There already?" Spyro saw the great dragon city, Warfang lying below, awaiting their purple saviour…