'It was a dark and stormy night' is light-years away from being able to describe how depressing Avalar was. Warfang was lost, Spyro was unconscious and the Valley was in a state of seemingly never ending darkness and downpour. Spyro was laying in the medical tent for the survivors. He could see his slumped dragoness lover on his bandaged body. With eyes barely cracked open, he muttered the first words Cynder had heard from him since he fell unconscious. "How long was I out?" Cynder was having trouble sleeping ever since the rain had begun pouring. "Three days." She stated over another clash of lightning.
"Has it been raining for long?" Spyro with now wide eyes looked over to the entrance to the tent he was residing in. "Three days." Cynder gave a sarcastic, yet also depressing tone to her object of comfort in the rain.
As the rain and thunder echoed throughout the Valley, Spyro and Cynder kept staring out at the tent entrance, not knowing if the rain will ever stop. "It seems the ancestors are punishing us." Spyro gave his theory on the situation.
Cynder gave Spyro a kiss and got up to get some water for him. As she was doing so, the bruised purple dragon attempted to get up in a vain attempt to see if he was able to walk, let alone move anything that wasn't his mouth or eyes. As Cynder was filling up a cup with water, she was shaken by a convenient lightning and thunder strike as Spyro let out a shriek of pain as he shifted his right leg, the one that just healed the week prior.
She rushed over to his side to lay him back in bed for his own safety. "Please don't pull this stunt again." Cynder said worrying her once unconscious purple cushion would hurt himself even more than he has. Putting him back in the bed, she looked at him with eyes that resembled the tent's exterior. With that, they once more fell back into slumber.