The original Spyro the Dragon series, Spyro, Elora, Sparx, Zoe, Hunter, Bianca, Bartholomew, Sheila the Kangaroo, Sgt. James Byrd, Bentley the Yeti, Agent 9, Lila the Faun, Spinner the Faun, Krista the Faun, Sheila the Faun, Gildas, Bob, Dragon Realms, Avalar, Forgotten Worlds, Dragon Shores, Fracture Hills, other characters, realms, worlds and areas are properties of Insomniac Games, Universal Interactive Studios or Activision. Macy is Topaz16's original character and she belongs to her. Smokey the Dragon, Daniel the Dragon and Stanley the Dragon are my original characters and they belong to me. Plus, they are created exclusively for this fanfiction.

Hello again! I apologise for the extremely long hiatus but there are a lot of reasons why such as preparing for university interviews, high education courses and universities, working on my new story known as "Facebook Frenzy: Cartoon Crossovers Edition", writing up my Mario song fanfiction, "All Fired Up(named after one of the songs from The Saturdays' current album, On Your Radar and the battle mini-game from Mario Party 3), writing up game reviews, submitting artwork, fanart and written work to deviantART, I'm still very sick 'cause of my medical condition and the list goes on. Since this year's Olympics are coming up in the future, there's no doubt the hiatus will be extended for this story and the other fanfictions.

Sorry if Spyro is a little bit out of character but this chapter is showing two sides of him; he's kind, cocky, arrogant and eager to help others in need and the next minute he's stubborn and being authoritive, yet strict at the same time, due to his occupation and the fact he's trying to keep the news relating to his part-time lifeguard job and his mild illness a secret from the public. It isn't easy for him when it comes to being in the limelight.

If you must know, Macy made a reference to the song, "Puff the Magic Dragon", when she is infuriated with Spyro's stubborn pride and the fact he wouldn't toss that aside which results in her calling him, "Huff the Magic Dragon", to take the mickey of him.

After watching all of the episodes of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, I feel that there is a moral message hidden within this story that would be: Even if you're sick, don't be afraid to accept help from a friend who is willing to nurse you back to health. It doesn't matter if you're not adjusted to people fretting over you or being concerned for you. Receiving help from your buddy won't hurt you and it's unwise to let your stubbornness get the best of you.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news but unfortunately, Topaz16 will no longer be able to work on the collaboration with me because of her hectic schedule and she completely lost her touch on writing fanfiction, just like my previous friends. Luckily, I found a new partner who goes by the name of SoraLover1994 and fortunately, she has a lot in common with me.

You'll be glad to know that the characters from Spyro the Dragon, Spyro 2: Gateway To Glimmer (or Spyro 2: Ripto's Rage! for those of you from America) and Spyro 3: Year of the Dragon will reappear in this chapter, along with Sparx and Zoe that appeared in the previous chapters.

Anyway, here's the long-awaited sixth chapter!


Chapter 6: Friday Fiesta

Just like any other sun-drenched day, it is indeed brisk and it is also the ideal day to continue with the picnic. As the seconds, minutes and hours elapsed, Spyro and his colossal circle of chums are halfway through it. The sun is shining, the seagulls are going about their daily business and the smell of picnic food and scrumptious hotdogs filled the humid, summery air. This is the perfect day for the tourists and the local population to put their feet up, kick back, relax and let their troubles wash away with the tide. No wonder the dragons tend to come here for a vacation, Dragon Shores is hot all year round and it is without a doubt a sunlit paradise.

The beach is almost peaceful and in solitude except for the occasional coughs, fiery sneezes, sniffling, wheezing and hacking sounds from a cold-stricken Spyro, much to Macy's annoyance. Out of all of his companions, he is the only one who is currently suffering from the symptoms of his illness. His coughs vary, depending on how hard he coughed or how worse they become as the minutes and hours whiz by. They can range from a dry cough to a hacking cough or a "barking" cough but usually whenever he coughs, they're bound to be painful-sounding, hacking coughs or horrid, "barking" coughs that were horrifically unbearable for words.

Elora blew on the chicken-flavoured liquid that filled the silver spoon to cool down the temperature of it so it would be editable. "Here comes the choo-choo train. Choo-choo! Whoo-whoo!" She uttered the words of how trains make, in order to imitate train noises as she gradually pushed the spoonful of chicken soup towards the little, purple dragon's opened mouth as if she's feeding to a baby or a child.

As the silvery spoon entered his miniature maw, Spyro's reptilian lips and red tongue touched the liquid substance before chewing it and gulping it down, the soup disappeared down his gullet. He smacked his lips with his tongue, relishing the healthy and nutritional goodness of the chicken soup.

Spyro coughed roughly a little bit, pressing a paper handkerchief to his petite maw. "Elora, I'm too old for that." He muttered in an annoyed tone, clearly not amused with the way the faun has been treating him. He sniffled pathetically in the tissue while he rocked backward as he draws in a ragged breath and lurched forward before releasing a fiery sneeze, due to the sudden force from the expulsion. "Hachoo!" Sheets of red, yellow and orange colours of fire, snot and air were expelled through his lungs, reptilian lips and snout, reducing his tissue to a mould of smouldering ash in the process.

"Bless you." Elora quickly rummage through the picnic basket for a pile of napkins she stuffed into it, in case the teenage dragon's coughs and sneezes worsens. The minute her hand felt the flimsy material stroking against the palm of her hand, she carefully dragged the folded napkin out handed the pubertal, winged reptile a clean, white napkin to him who feebly smiled and received it in his front, right claw in a friendly way whilst mouthing the words, "thank you", to the auburn-haired, green-clothed faun. The lifeguard teen unfolded the napkin until it's straight and there are no creases visible on it and blew his nose to remove the gooey, gross congestion that's clogging up his nostrils. "But sometimes you don't act like your age, Spyro."

"I do act like my age."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do." Spyro ended the quarrel swiftly in a bad-tempered tone of voice, apparently not in the right mood to carry on with the squabble, even if the brunette-haired, female faun is messing around with him. Sure, he normally has a sense of humour but not when he feels like half-dead or completely out of it. "Elora, I'm not in the mood to carry on arguing with you."

A light-hearted giggle escaped from Elora's feminine lips as an amused smile is visible on her face. She crossed her arms; not expecting to see the day the teenage, dragon hero is surrendering for once. "Seems like the little dragon is admitting defeat. And here I thought that dragons are ferocious, fire-breathing creatures that own the skies when flying or they never give up, regardless of how gruelling or difficult the challenge, task or mission may be."

Spyro shook his head before enlightening Elora with his reason he had the desire to suddenly bring the quarrelling to an end. He knew that the more he spoke, the most likely he'll start coughing yet again. "It's not that. I don't want to start coughing again and besides, I can't breathe fire anyway 'cause I'm sick."

"Very well, I understand you do not want to continue having discussions anymore, considering you are poorly and all."

"Name o Succumbing to his sickness, Spyro turned his head away from his friends, not wanting to infect them and expelled a series of productive coughs from his blazing lungs and out his mouth, coughing into his both of his front claws. They were described as coughs with expectoration of material from the bronchi as they sounded hoarse and wet, as if they were mixed with mucus or sputum. As his watery coughs linger on, they become noisier as the volume increases bit-by-bit and sounded wetter as the sputum builds up in his throat. When his sickening coughs eventually dwindled until they entirely died down, he moved his claws away from his reptilian lips even as he composed himself and faced the Avalarian faun, starting his sentence from the beginning. "Name one reason I don't act like my age."

"You allowed me to feed you chicken soup and take care of you like a dragon hatchling." Elora stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice as she crossed her arms, enlightening the fourteen-year-old, dragon teen with her reason why she thinks he's acting immature.

"And your point?"

"You do the silliest and irresponsible things at times, even when you're still a boy."

"Whatever." Spyro mumbled, disregarding the Avalarian faun's statement and not caring one bit. His voice instantly changed to an authoritarian tone despite his shallow, hoarse voice, referring to his part-time occupation as a beach lifeguard. "But I still act sensible and authoritive when I need to."

"I know you do when it comes to lifeguard duties. Now, open your mouth."

Elora fed another helping of chicken soup into the courageous, headstrong dragon's pint-sized jaws with the spoon as he chewed up the watery, chicken-flavoured liquid with his razor-sharp, draconic teeth into countless, tiny fragments until he is ready to gulp it down. It slowly made its way down his throat as it eases away his symptoms temporarily.

If the Avalarian, female faun wanted to spend some time with him, then now is her chance to rekindle their relationship. Either be improving their friendship bond or a relationship that's more than that. However, nursing him back to health is like tending to a patient's needs.

"Do you feel much better?" She caringly queried, in a soothing, almost seductive tone of voice in an attempt to make the adolescent hero feel at ease and free from suffering from his mild illness.

"A little better." An appreciative smile appeared visibly across Spyro's purple, reptilian lips, thankful and relieved that he doesn't need to endure any bouts of off-putting coughs for a while. "At least, I'm not coughing anymore."

"Good. 'Cause I don't wanna hear any." Macy crossed her arms in a contented way, glad that her sick friend isn't coughing for the time being. In her opinion, she thinks that Spyro's coughing sounds unpleasantly painful, but repugnant, at the same time than his sneezing most of the time.

Spyro simply glowered at her without saying a word, but he refrained himself from quarrelling with her, in case it will result in him coughing again. He frowned, feeling a tickling sensation itching his nostrils that soon developed into a fiery sneeze or perhaps more than he expected. Having no time to fumble for a handkerchief, he shifted his head away from his chums with no intention of infecting them and lifted a claw to his reddish nose. He took a ragged breath as he leaned his head backwards, preparing to sneeze.

"Atishoo! Atchoo! Hachoo! Achoo!" With each scorching sneeze, powerful torrents of red-hot, searing fire and a great deal of revolting snot were expelled unexpectedly from his nose. Despite his inability of breathing fire due to his sickness and his sore throat, smoke is billowing out from them, hinting where the flames came from. Seeing as he is a dragon, it obviously makes sense why he involuntarily sneezes out fire.

"Gesundheit!" Hunter and Bartholomew yelled in unity, hollering out the typical words after every time their friend released fiery sneezes involuntarily and abruptly, normally deafeningly from his throat, reptilian lips and ruddy snout.

"Bless you!" Elora, Bianca and Macy bellowed in unison, shouting out the usual words whenever their ill, fire-breathing friend sneezed.

"Four times!" Hunter added in a cheerful tone of voice, using the opportunity to brighten up the mood and taking the liberty of counting how many times the ailing, purple protector sneezed.

"Four… times…?" Bianca raised her right eyebrow quizzically at her boyfriend, not understanding what he is talking about.

"Spyro is sneezing four times so that's why I said that."

"Thanks guys." Spyro smiled in a weakly manner towards his concerned comrades and in a soft, nearly quiet voice whilst he snuffled thickly and frailly, slowly regaining his composure from the fiery expulsions. "Sorry if I'm making you guys worry your butts off about me." He apologetically frowned, feeling regretful that he made his allies fretting about him.

Out of the group of five, Bianca is the first member of the crew to speak up, in order to make her saddened, sick friend feel better and perk up his spirits. "Spyro, you don't have to apologise. It's not your fault that you've gotten sick."

"Yeah, everyone falls ill sometimes." Bartholomew added, sharing his agreement with his concerned chums and stating the obvious that is in fact true to anyone. Coincidentally, Spyro happened to mention something like this yesterday that is relevant to what the young yeti is talking about.

Although Macy is normally the reigning queen of negativity, she tried to ensure that her ailing friend isn't feeling remorseful for making his companions worrying themselves to death. "Besides, you can't beat yourself up just 'cause you're not well." Unlike her buddies, she placed her white, furry paws on her hips and sternly shot a fierce look at him as if she's scolding at him. "So, stop acting like a dragon hatchling and deal with it."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I came down with this nasty cold on purpose." Spyro snorted out a combination of grey and black smoke in irritation, crossing his arms or rather his legs, considering he didn't have any. "I'm sick and tired of being sick." He complained in a hot-headed, grouchy mood, frustrated being afflicted with the coryza, the medical name for the common cold.

Elora settled down the balmy bowl of chicken soup and positioned her hands on the purple dragon's achy haunches as she stared into his ill, but innocent, eyes, speaking in a meaningful, wise tone of voice as her way of attempting to calm him down and cheer him up. "It may be a burden to you which is something that's currently weighing on your wings but you have to bear with it, I'm afraid. It's part of life."

The conversation between Elora, Hunter, Bianca, Bartholomew and Macy is abruptly interrupted by a combination of horrid, hacking coughs and bothersome, but shallow, "barking" coughs, which were coming from a cold-stricken Spyro. They were described as dry, painful coughs with harsh, unpleasant sounds and resembled the call of a seal or sea lion. His friends swivelled their heads round to the sounds of him coughing roughly and harshly into a handkerchief he pulled from a packet of tissues in his purple bag. A few of his buddies cringed or grimaced whilst gritting their teeth whenever he coughed, due to how painful and disturbing they sounded. His coughs continued to linger on like a never-ending, repeated cycle or as if he's suffering from another hacking coughing fit and they worsened with each passing second. Not to mention, it's like his coughs never ends with any sign of stopping.

As soon as the purple dragon's horrifically, painful-sounding coughs eventually dwindled to a minimum; they left his circle of companions shaken with uneasiness. They exchanged a compassionate look with each other before building up the courage to converse with him.

After that disconcerting moment, Hunter is the first one out of the group to ask if his poorly pal is all right before shuddering uncomfortably, due to the purple protagonist's hacking coughs blaring dissonantly and stridently through the cheetah's ears. "You okay, buddy? You've been coughing like that since the early hours of this afternoon."

Towards the end of his long bout of terrible, chronic coughs, Spyro coughed up gooey, sticky sputum from his lungs and spat it into his hankie before crumpling it and dumping into his bag until he finds the time to recycle it. "I'll be fine. I've just got a very, very bad cough, that's all." He replied in a tone as if he didn't care about his terrible cold whilst he laid a claw on his chest, grimacing in intensive pain and a weak, dismal frown appeared across his scaly lips. "It's really annoying whenever I cough like this.

"Geez! Will you knock it off with your coughing and sneezing?" For the second time, Macy couldn't take it any more. The more the purple-coloured, teenage lifeguard's coughs have gone from bad to worse, the more the cat wizard is irritated. Clearly, she couldn't stand being in the same place as the poorly protagonist, just to hear him coughing and sneezing for numerous minutes without end. Sure, she's worried about him at first but as the minutes and seconds went by, she becomes infuriated with him. "It's annoying me to the brink of insanity!" An outburst from her would surely wind up into another quarrel.

"Achoo!" Spyro's strident, fiery sneeze is followed by a huge bout of deep "barking" coughs that are similar to hacking coughs that were released from his reptilian lips and his burning lungs as he closed his eyes tightly and coughed roughly and harshly into his purple-scaled, right claw. His barky coughs are often described as resembling the call of a seal, sea lion or a walrus. The reason he shut his eyes is to keep back the agonising pain that harmed his throat and chest to a large extent. As soon as his "barking" coughs subsided, he immediately opened his eyes before clearing his throat. "I can't help it Macy. I thought you've got— Achew! …gotten over not being able to put up with my coughing and sneezing."

Eww, gross! Again with the coughs! They sound revolting! Macy thought to herself, cringing at the same time as Spyro kept coughing painfully. "I'm trying but your coughs are too disturbing for words. Besides, they are getting really annoying if you don't stop coughing." She replied angrily, through gritted teeth even as she balled her paws into clenched fists.

"I know just the thing to make you better, Spyro. Here, this will make you feel better and relieve you from your coughs and symptoms." Elora handed a flask to Spyro which is in a shade of green which resembles a forest and inside, it contained a homemade, piping hot tea blended with honey and lemon, in order to relieve him of his painful-sounding coughs.

The sick saviour graciously received the flask in his purple-scaled claws even as a weak, barely visible smile broadened across his reptilian lips on his pallid purple face. "Thanks, Elora." Without any hesitation, he opened the top of the thermos and tipped it so it lay close to his maw and drank the homemade tea that's full of flavour, vitamins and goodness. "Mmm! This tastes wonderful! Did you make this?" He turned his attention to the auburn-haired faun, flashing a draconic, toothy smile in her direction, hinting that he relished the honey, sugary sweet flavour of the tea. He licked each corner of his lips after taking a couple of swigs from the liquid that eased him from his repetitive, but horrific, coughs.

"It's my pleasure. I'm glad you like it; a couple of sugar, honey and lemon made this tea taste just right, even for someone who's feeling under the weather at the moment." Elora simply smiled; glad to see Spyro feeling relieved and a bit better from his unbearable coughing. She felt it is her duty to repay the cold-stricken, dragon hero and lifeguard for the time he and Sparx saved Avalar from Ripto's ruthless wrath a small number of years ago. "Do you feel any better?"

"A little bit better."

"I'm pleased that you're relieved from your coughing."

After a small number of sips, Spyro returned the flask back to Elora, who received it with an affectionate smile and placed it with care on the picnic blanket, in case the lifeguard teen wants it to ease his raw throat, calm his harsh coughing and relieve him of his symptoms.

"Anyway, I gotta get back to work." Spyro sickly frowned in Elora's direction, disappointed that he couldn't stay with his friends and allies even longer. He proceeded to let out a few, dry hacking coughs from his mouth as he coughed painfully into his left, red-brown wing; due to the fact his feet were touching the sandy surface of the scorching sand. His hacking coughs are described as small and frequent coughs, usually short and dry; broken coughs with rough and loud sounds. After his nasty, hacking cough attack ended, he slowly regained his composure and continued from where he left off. "I don't want my employer and my coach find out that I'm socializing with you guys."

"On second thought, you should take this with you in case your lungs act up and your coughs worsens." Elora sympathetically pushed the thermos back to Spyro, in case his shallow, rough coughing occurs for the umpteenth time or the symptoms of his severe cold took their toll on him. "It is supposed to be for myself but I believe that you'll need it more than I do." She smiled compassionately in the young hero's direction, understanding that he'll probably suffer a lot more without drinking any hot fluids and putting her needs in front of his.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." A weak smile is instantly visible across Spyro's lips, expressing his gratitude to the Avalarian faun. "But yo His words were then interrupted by a combination of persistent, but unbearably stomach-churning, hacking coughs and "barking" coughs whilst he constantly coughed into one of his teeny wings. Unfortunately for him, they were getting louder and worse by the second. He coughed so roughly and harshly to the point it is like he's coughing up a lung and his coughs left a disgusting taste in his mouth and on his dark red tongue that caused him to gag or retch. Before his cough attack could carry on, he quickly cleared his throat and composed himself. "But you really don't need to give it to me."

"I insist! You deserve to have it but if you want a refill, just let me know.

"Thanks, Elora. It's so generous of you." The poorly, purple protector kind-heartedly grinned, expressing his thanks to the green-clad, unofficial leader of the Avalari and thankful for her being there in his time of need ever since she first arrived at Dragon Shores. In case he needs to quench his thirst or calm his continual coughing, he deposited the flask in his bag. "If you guys need me, I'll be at my lifeguard chair."

And with that, he tiredly made his way back to the lifeguard chair to continue with his duties. Once he reached the bottom of the chair, he clutched the ladder with his minuscule, white talons and ascended it until he gets to the top. He made himself comfortable and swung his bag over the right side of his chair.

He bent over and moved one of his claws into his bag, searching for his binoculars. By the time he found it, he dragged it out and hung it over his neck that lay resting on his chest. Before he had a chance to look through it, a hacking cough attack ensued as he coughed roughly and harshly in short and repeated spasms, into one of his claws. Unfortunately, his coughing refused to go away whilst he squeezed his eyes shut firmly, holding back the piercing pain as each painful-sounding cough shook him violently and wracked his small, but short, frame. The more he coughed harder, the more his throat and fire-breathing glands hurt to an enormous extent.

Meanwhile, his cluster of companions looked up at him with concern and sympathy that were clear in their eyes and expressions, feeling sorry for him having to put up with a minor sickness such as the common cold. Even though a cold is a mild illness, they couldn't bear to watch their friend, saviour and lifeguard suffer.


As the day begins to draw to a close and so did Spyro's coughing but for now. It is only a matter of time until the karaoke and beach party is about to commence. The sky is painted in a mixture of bright, hot colours such as an assortment of reds, oranges, yellows etc. Most noticeable is the reasonable large, reddish-orange ball of illuminating light the inhabitants call the sun, hovering in the horizon. The waves are giving off radiation from the sun's unforgiving, scorching rays and the salty water is glistening in the sunlight. Since the waves were unusually serene, they were barely undulating in rhythm with the sheer force of the seawater.

If only he could allow his troubles and stresses to wash away with the tide but what with all the things he has to handle which includes enduring the suffering of his cold, it won't be easy for him.

"Ugh… I thought I could never stop coughing." He groaned to himself, his voice is already slurred which is a sign of his horrible, hacking coughs and his sickness affecting it. He exhaustedly leaned back on his chair as he gently placed a claw on his chest, delicately soothing and caressing it as if he's trying to relieve himself of the pain. "My throat is killing me."

"You okay, mister?" A random young, bright green dragon asked worriedly, standing before the sickly, purple dragon with a colourful beach ball in his claws. In fact, the green-coloured child is remained still below the white, towering chair but he's barely the same size as the little, purple-scaled lifeguard, most likely had the similar stature to the dragon hatchlings.

"I'll be all right, I just got an annoying tickle in my lungs that refuses to leave."

"He'll be fine, sweetie. Lifeguards are usually strong when it comes to dealing with tough situations." An emerald-scaled, adult dragoness tenderly placed a grownup-sized claw on one of the little boy's haunches, causing him to gaze up to his mum with innocent, child-like eyes. "I am terribly sorry about that, sir. My son's usually distracted whenever he notices that something is wrong." She gave the ailing, 14-year-old teenager an apologetic look, feeling guilty that she might have sidetracked him from his lifeguard duties.

Still feeling weak as if he didn't feel like doing anything on this particular day, Spyro snivelled feebly, sniffing in the runny, glutinous mucus that dribbled down his nose and made a snorting sound in the process as he did so. His sickness may be getting him down but he's determined to keep his cool. "No worries. Nothing is wrong with me at the moment so I'm okay."

"Are you sure about that, sir?

"Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Spyro assured the vacationing dragons with his usual cocky, arrogant attitude, attempting to keep the pain from his illness under wraps. He coughed faintly into one of his small, purple claws before letting the dragoness know about the beautiful sunset and the approaching nightfall. "But you should get going 'cause the sun's about to set, unless you're planning on sticking around for the beach party tonight.

Wondering how the poorly, heroic lifeguard and protector had knowledge relating to tonight's beach party, a curious question struck the emerald-tinted, adult dragoness, seeing as no one has notified her about it. "I've never been told about this, where did you hear it?"

"My colleague informed me of what's going on tonight."

"I'll be looking forward to it.

"Just make sure you and your family stay out of trouble."

"I will, sir. Farewell and take care of yourself!"

"See ya.

Regardless of how rotten he's feeling at the moment, Spyro still had some strength within him to wave bid the dragon family farewell with a poorly, feeble smile spread across his scaly lips and resume to his lifeguard responsibilities and tasks. He brought the binoculars to his drowsy, sagging eyes and looked through them to keep an eye on the activity that's occurring on the sea and the seaside. He shifted his directions left and right constantly and slowly simultaneously. So far, there's not a single trouble or dire danger in sight. In the midst of observing the beach from the comfort of his chair, he would stop watching over the seashore to cough into his claw, sniffle nasally, letting out fiery sneezes from his reddened nose and wheeze every now and then.

Even though he is stubborn most of the time, he bent his neck and head down, in order to root through his bag for the flask his brunette-haired faun lends to him. After a small amount of moments search, he dragged out the container from within his bag and held the curved handle, in his mouth.

He decided to make his way to his friends to check up on what they are up to, in order to see if they got themselves into a dilemma and to get a refill for the flask Elora handed to him as an act of kind-heartedness and sympathy. He grabbed his bag and swung it over his haunches, head and small body before clutching the ladder of the chair and climbed down the steps that lead to the bottom. His feet touched the roughness of the scorching sand and walked along the surface in an en route to where his friends are mingling about.

His companions perked up the moment they caught a glimpse of him approaching them and when they listened to the sound of little footsteps. If they didn't hear his footsteps just now, his snivelling, coughing, sneezing, hacking or wheezing sounds would have caught their attention easily instead and be aware of his presence.

Out of the group of five, Hunter is the first one to ask his best friend if there's something wrong with him, other than his mild sickness. "What's the matter, Spyro?

"I just came here to replenish the flask Elora gave to me, it's nearly all gone." Spyro filled his chums in on why he returned to them as he leaned down his head and undersized neck to released his grip on the handle of the flask, which allowed it to settle down on the ground. "Also, I came by to check on you guys to make sure nothing terrible happened." He added, knowing that he's responsible for overseeing the safety of the users of the watery depths of the sea and the tropical beach. "So, did anything happen?

"Not that we know of." Bianca plainly stated, before gazing out to the cool, but calm, sea, observing the residents minding their own business and being caught up in their activities such as surfing, playing with a frisbee or a beach ball, being occupied in a game of volleyball, having a picnic, sunbathing, lying peacefully in the sun working on their tan and so forth.

"Unless either of us drowned in your absence." Macy muttered inaudibly, saying the opposite and attempting to put a damper on the purple-scaled, yellow-underbellied dragon's day as well as discouraging him.

"That's really uncalled for. Very funny, Macy." The golden horned, reddish-brown winged reptile had on an expression that says, "Whatever", on his reptilian face as if he dismissed her unhelpful statement. Practically, his half-closed eyes showed the similar emotion. He then shook his head, disagreeing with her uncooperative words. "You shouldn't be saying the worst or it will happen.

"I meant exactly what I said.

"Macy, you're the reigning queen of negativity." Spyro rolled his bloodshot, watery and puffy eyes sarcastically, clearly unimpressed with the cat wizard's unsupportive comments and countering with a witty remark of his own.

"I suppose I'll take it as a compliment." Macy replied in a sort of tone that sounded like as if she didn't mind being insulted, shrugging off the remark.

"We're more concerned about you than our safety." Elora said in a soothing, but sympathetic, tone of voice, as she promptly settled her feminine, human-like hands on the purple protector's haunches as her way of showing her concern and feeling pitiful for him.

She momentarily removed her feminine hands from Spyro's haunches and rummaged through the picnic basket for another flask that contained another helping of the tea that is mixed with honey and lemon, combining into a healthy, nutritional liquid until she came across it in her search without making a complete mess inside her basket. Unlike the thermos she offered to the courageous, arrogant hero, the container is in different tone of green that is more like in a lighter shade. Without a moment to spare, she dragged it out of the basket before opening the white-coloured, circular lid in a clockwise motion and tipped the flask in a slanting position so the contents poured into the other thermos the purple, reptilian redeemer is fumbling in his claws, due to having no opposable thumbs. He managed to clutch it safely before it slipped from his tiny, white-tinted talons.

"Look, I appreciate all of you are worrying your heads off about me, but I'm seriously fine. And there's no way I'm letting a cold get me down." Spyro simply scowled in his allies' direction, repressing his infuriation within him and suppressing the persistent tickles in his fiery, but uncomfortably sore, lungs, on the verge of coughing. "I've endured dreadful things throughout my whole life since my childhood, vanquished villains, embarking on epic adventures and you don't see me fretting about an itty bitty illness like that." He ranted in an aggravated manner as if his illness isn't a big deal and disregarding it, seething through his teeny nostrils.

"Spyro, the reason we're worried is because we're looking out for you. That's what friends are for. You know that, don't you?" Bianca's cerulean eyes met her friend's angry, but poorly, eyes whilst allowing her words to slow down and trying to reason with him in a soft, sweet and slightly stern tone of voice as if she is attempting to lulling him.

Spyro, on the other hand, basically just didn't respond to the bunny as if he is left speechless and continued to glower heatedly in his comrades' direction. Unfortunately for the rabbit girl, her reasoning didn't get through to him. Although, he tends to deny that he is wrong. His expression went from an infuriated glare to a saddened frown, his face began to soften even as he gazed downward and avoiding eye contact. Deep down, he still refused to reveal his answer and engaged in a conflict with himself, choosing whether to reply or not.

Supervising the beach or hanging about with his faithful buddies will have to wait when he noticed a dragonesque silhouette approaching him. To get a closer look, he hoisted the binoculars to his purple eyes and gazed through them. It turns out that his colleague is moving towards him from the watchtower with a chipper mood; compared to his sad, sickly one. The grey-scaled, male dragon's left little footprints behind him that were printed in the sandy surface of the sand with each step he makes as he draws near to his destination.

"Hey, Spyro! We should get going, we have to meet up with Daniel on stage to practice for our presentation." Smokey enthusiastically scurried to where his cold-stricken partner is, clearly overexcited about the approaching shindig that's looming near. He couldn't contain himself but his excited expression immediately turned to one of worry as soon as he noticed Spyro's bloodshot, ill eyes, reddened snout and pallid purple face as if the purple colour actually drained from it. To top it all off, darkened bags accompanied his fatigued eyes and his face is flushed with redness visible within his complexion. "Are you sure you'll be okay for our speech? You've been coughing like this since this afternoon." A concerned, but empathetic, frown is upon the 13-year-old, winged reptile's face, becoming aware of his colleague's coughs is already going from bad to worse by the second.

"I'm fi A dry, hacking cough abruptly expelled from the poorly, purple protagonist's throat before he could finish his sentence. However, it's much noisier and terribly painful-sounding than the last time he coughed harder. Sick and tired of being asked the same question over and over again, he heaved a sigh that resulted in him wheezing a tad bit from having difficulty of breathing through his red, snot-filled nose. "I'm fine and what makes you say that?

As much as it hurts for him to say it, Smokey couldn't help but cringe and gritting his razor-sharp, draconic teeth, remembering those horribly awful, hacking coughs and "barking" coughs blaring through his hidden ears from outdoors. Those insufferable noises reverberated off the towering cliff, bounced off the icy cold, undulating waves of the sea and echoed across both sides of the beach. They were so discordant; he is able to listen to the unpleasant sounds from outside while he is working incredibly hard with his paperwork inside the building. Obviously, those nauseating noises were coming from his coughing colleague. "I can hear you continuously coughing from outside the watchtower."

"My coughs couldn't be that bad, could they?" Spyro grimaced, he realised how off-putting and horrible his coughs have become as the minutes, seconds and hours whizzed by as well as how horrendous they sounded which can throw anyone off balance.

"Well… I've never heard anyone coughing this disturbingly 'til I met you. But let's not go off the subject, have you got your belongings ready?"

"You be— Atishoo!" Just before he had a chance to answer his colleague's question, the fourteen-year-old, purple dragon quickly pulled out a blank, white handkerchief from his packet of tissues and covered his red-coloured (due to his severe cold) nose. He leaned back his head whilst he suddenly intakes air and immediately threw forward his head, forcing a powerful torrent of flaming fire, a great deal of perfectly revolting snot and air from his nose and nostrils, thus reducing his hanky to a mound of black ashes. "You bet I have." He feebly muttered, snivelling after he collected himself from the sudden, strident expulsion.

"Gesundheit." Smokey cringed, responding after his co-worker let out an ear-piercing, blaring sneeze. Spyro's scorching sneeze nearly threw off the grey-tinted, 13-year-old dragon; not expecting the sudden expulsion since the plucky, purple protagonist hasn't sneezed in more than a while.

"Now that I think about it… if a party is going on tonight, what if people decided to swim in the ocean during the night and you guys weren't there to provide supervision?" Elora mulled over to herself, as a question strikes her as if she grasped the realisation from nowhere and trying to change the subject, moving the conversation on to a pressing matter.

"You guys sh— AH-CHOO!" Spyro promptly sneezed once more into his handkerchief, which reduced to smouldering ash in the process before he snivelled nasally. "…Shouldn't worry, the beach will be closed to stop anyone fr Unfortunately for him, a round of productive coughs prevented him from speaking even further as he continued to cough into his hygienic, white tissue he yanked out from a pocket-sized packet of tissues from his purple-hued bag. They are coughs with expectoration of material from the bronchi and they are wet and hoarse with a hint of gooey, but glutinous, mucus. Moments later, he composed himself after recovering from his extensive bout of watery, but highly repulsive, coughs that sounded displeasing to an exceedingly extent. "…from swimming in the ocean or playing here. Right, Smokey?"

"Absolutely." The thirteen-year-old, grey-scaled youth nodded with a contented smirk, indicating agreement with his poorly, fellow worker and idol.

"Excuse me? Do any of you guys know where the lifeguards are?" An unknown, male voice enquired in a polite manner, attempting to get the adolescent lifeguards' attention by increasing the volume of his voice above the commotion coming from the valiant, but ill, reddish-brown winged redeemer and his chatty circle of chums.

Spyro and his team of allies turned to the source of the voice, which belonged to an interviewer who goes by the name of Bob, the director and the media. They were so occupied in their chitchat; they hardly noticed the press standing patiently beside them, the lifeguard chair and the recycling bin. Out of the crew, the young, purple dragon made himself known and raised his low, husky voice without trying to damage it.

"We're right here, we're just off duty at the moment." Spyro replied in a feeble, hoarse voice, answering the interviewer's question and pointing a single white talon at himself and his colleague, gesturing to who the lifeguards are. "Can I He let out a deep, rough cough as it wracked his yellow-tinted chest and he coughed into his right, purple claw to prevent any gruesome germs from spreading. He immediately collected himself after he coughed. "Can I help you?" Unfortunately, numerous strange tickles were irritating his throat that soon developed into a bout of dry, hacking coughs and bad, "barking" coughs as he continued to cough in short, dry and spasmodic bursts, into his right, purple claw.

Since the 14-year-old, young lifeguard's constant, but annoyingly disturbing, hacking coughs and "barking" coughs were unbearably painful to hear, Bob cringed with every hacking cough and "barking" cough which were released from Spyro's reptilian lips and felt ill at ease near him. Since the coughs were unbearably sickening, the horrendous sounds chilled their spines to the bone. After that disconcerting moment since Bob isn't expecting one of the lifeguards to cough painfully, he managed to spoke up. "Yes, in fact. Have you seen Spyro, sir?

As soon as the interviewer mentioned his name, an uninviting chill ran down the poorly, purple protagonist's spine and chilled him to the bone. Before he could answer, several "barking" coughs were forced out of his fiery lungs. "Not re Another dry cough suddenly escaped from his reptilian lips before he had a chance to finish his sentence. After he coughed, he slowly collected himself. "Not really. Try looking fo— Atishoo!" He suddenly sneezed for the umpteenth time; luckily he covered his mouth and snout with a tissue he took out from a packet of hankies from his purple-coloured bag to prevent himself from infecting the director and interviewer. "…for him in the amusement park, maybe those Gnorcs could help you." He lied, trying to cover up his whereabouts and his identity from the press.

"Bless you. Thanks for your help, sir."

"No pro Quite a few dry, hacking coughs wracked Spyro's body and chest while he moved a clenched claw to his mouth and coughed roughly and harshly into it. His hacking coughs are described as repeated painful coughs with unpleasant sounds. Before he had the urge to cough again which appears to be the umpteenth time, he instantly cleared his throat and regained his composure. "No problem, I'm glad to help."

Coming to the conclusion that one of the local lifeguards might be poorly due to hearing him coughing more than he sneezed; Bob cocked an eyebrow, not expecting the ailing lifeguard and hero to cough, let alone sneeze and suspecting that he got infected with an illness. Telling by his tone of voice, he's worrying out of his wits, regardless of the fact he doesn't recognise the ailing lifeguard and unable to distinguish him from his latest get-up. "You're coughing a lot! Are you catching a cold or the flu, mister?

"N-no! I-I'm fine." Spyro began to stutter and falter in his words when he realised the media were getting suspicious of him not feeling well. Trying to keep his cool, he relaxed himself and smiled, attempting to conceal his pain from his mild illness. If the press finds out that he couldn't handle being unwell with a cold, this kind of news will smear his reputation. "I've just got some strange tickles in my throat.

"If you say so." Bob nodded half-heartedly, unconvinced that the cold-stricken lifeguard and liberator is feeling all right, for now. However, deep down in himself he is still suspicious that one of the local lifeguards has fallen ill. "We'll see you soon!" These were his last words for the day before he and the other reporters departed from the seaside.

"If you wa Yet another series of unbearably, unpleasant hacking coughs and barky coughs wracked the young, purple-scaled lifeguard's yellow chest and body to an exceedingly large extent as he coughed disturbingly and loudly into one of his claws. They are described as small and frequent coughs, usually short and dry; broken coughs with rough and loud sounds. When his hacking cough attack and "barking" cough attack subsided, he heaved a sigh and immediately composed himself, in order to relieve himself from his bout of terrible coughs. "If you want any help, just let me know." As he said this, he gave out a small, but faint, cough.

"Of course, sir."

And with that, the interviewer and the press turned to the right and made their way out, departing from the beach and making an en route to the amusement park. As soon as they were utterly out of sight, the young hero wiped his forehead with one of his purple, petite claws with relief, realising that the close is clear.

That lifeguard's been acting strange, it's like as if he's trying to hide something from us. First, Spyro's gone missing and now, that lifeguard's constantly coughing and sneezing as if he came down with a sickness and says that he's okay. Something's amiss here, I know that he's sick and we're going to get some answers from him at some point in the future. Bob thought to himself as he rubbed his chin with a humongous claw as he walked with every step he made, suspecting the youthful lifeguard as Spyro and assuming he might be hiding secrets from him and the interviewers as well as wondering why he's trying to be discreet about his severe cold, his whereabouts and his part-time occupation as a beach lifeguard.

Hunter couldn't help himself but be curious about what's going on between his best friend and the reporters. "Yo, Spyro! What was that all about?"

"I can't risk the press knowing my identity and my location, let alone my sickness. I almost succeeded in concealing my secrets, if it weren't for the tickles in my throat that caused me to cough every five seconds." Spyro sickly frowned; referring to the fact he nearly failed in keeping his illness, his whereabouts and his identity a secret from the media and the interviewers due to his painful-sounding coughs and fiery sneezes. "I still have a reputation to uphold, remember?

"Just forget about your rep for one day, tonight's party will make everything all right." Smokey said in a witty tone of voice, trying to cheer his celebrity co-worker up, in order to make him stop thinking about the media and his reputation.

Spyro immediately shot an icy, hostile glare at his optimistic workmate, his words making the dilemma sound so simple to overcome. "Easy for you to say, you don't have a swarm of reporters and the paparazzi stalking you." Telling by the purple dragon's tone of voice, he's already stressed out about his predicament. Not only does he have to suffer from his very bad cold, he also has to keep a low profile since his reputation is on the line.

"Well, that's one of the downsides of the limelight for you."

"Smokey's right, just turn that frown upside down. Besides if you continue to dwell on your situation, it will make your cold even worse than it already has." Elora nodded, indicating agreement with the grey-scaled, 13-year-old lifeguard and providing her sick, dragon friend with moral advice as if she's actually the voice of reason.

"Yeah, we don't want a worrywart on duty." Smokey nodded, indicating agreement to the Avalarian faun's wisdom. When he mentions the word, "worrywart", he refers this to the teenage, heroic dragon.

"Very funny, Smokey." Spyro muttered, his face wore a blank expression while his bloodshot, watery and puffy eyes were half closed, looking in Smokey's direction in an expressionless manner. Obviously, he isn't impressed with the seemingly funny remark his workmate made. He then proceeded to cough painfully into a white, fragile handkerchief, pressing it to his mouth. His coughs are described as dry, painful coughs with harsh, unpleasant sounds, however they were louder, rougher and harsher than before due to the fact he hasn't coughed in a while. "Ugh… my coughs are wracking my body.

"Drink some water or fluids, it will make ya feel better."

To stop his horrible coughing, the poorly, purple protagonist turned the lid of the flask in a clockwise motion before taking a sip from it and as he felt the fairly, piping hot liquid slowly slipping down his lungs until it sinks to the bottom. His red tongue smacked his lips, savouring the taste of the homemade tea that is blended with lemon and honey from a flask that Elora lends to him out of her kindness and sympathy. Not only did the warm liquid get rid of his nasty, continuous coughs, it also soothed his throat, eased him from his symptoms and remove the nauseating tastes his horrendous coughs left on his tongue that made him sick to his stomach.

"Feel any better?" Smokey enquired in a sympathetic manner, craning his neck to meet the purple protagonist's sickly, tired gaze. He felt as if his strength is sapped from him and he isn't in the right mood to do anything, whether it's active or not.

"Yeah… at least, my coughing quietened down for a while." Spyro smiled in a feeble manner, heaving a sigh of relief. For a second there, he thought he could never stop coughing. It's bad enough the air composition at the beach is worsening his coughs. "You gu An ear-piercing, strident hacking cough expelled from his blazing, but terribly sore, lungs and miniature maw without warning. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to react that he didn't manage to cover his mouth. "You guys comin' with me to the party?

At hearing this question, Smokey, Elora, Hunter, Bianca, Bartholomew and Macy exchanged an uncertain, but sympathetic, look with one another before shifting their eye contact to their poorly, purple-coloured pal.

"Are you sure? What if the symptoms of your awful cold takes their toll on you?" Bartholomew questioned worriedly, dreading that the purple protagonist's illness may take a turn for the worse with each passing minute and hour. Concern is evident in his voice and within his miniature, green eyes.

"Guys! I'll be fine! Can we not dwell on that?" Spyro instantly shot a cold, angry stare at each of his fretful friends, fed up with their sympathy for him while he attempted to yell at them without straining his voice. It didn't take long for his purplish, scaly face to soften, relaxing his haunches whilst his temper toned down to the lowest level. He's not used to his mates being empathetic for him but he knew it's unwise to stay mad at them for a long, extensive period of time. "You don't need to worry. C'mon, let's go."

Before they depart for the party, Elora made a gesture with her feminine hand by moving it back and forth, gently motioning her friends to get off the sizeable, flimsy blanket they were occupying. As careful as she is, she folded the blanket repeatedly, with the purpose of decreasing the size of it before depositing it, the utensils, silverware, bowls, transparent glasses, forks, knifes, colourful cups, a box of matches she made use of not too long ago, flasks which were full of fluids and other objects and food she brought with her into her basket. To ensure she packed away everything, she counted, checked and listed the items she remembered she carried in her head as her sapphire eyes dart in every direction. Satisfied with her good organization, she simply nodded her head with a smile curled across her luxurious, lovely lips; confirming she is ready to set off for the beach jamboree with her companions.

Spyro led the way with Smokey and each of his friends following him in an en route to where the shindig will take place. The only thing that's on their mind is what the party will bring. Sure, he's eagerly looking forward to the fiesta as much as they are but with the worries and the stresses that are burdening him, not to mention suffering from his severe cold every so often, he couldn't enjoy the party even if he wanted to. However, that doesn't mean he can't try to make the most of it and maintain his self-control.


Night time soon fell and it wouldn't long until the beach party and the karaoke stage is all set. The sky is painted with various hues of dark blues and dark colours and multitudes of twinkling stars glittered all over it.

Across the beach, innumerable towering, black poles are dotted all over the almost darkened area with brightly, multicoloured lights shimmering in the darkness of the night. There were so many, it's difficult to calculate the total of lights. Speaking of the colours, they ranged from the lightest hues to the darkest tones of the rainbow. They were suspended from the black wires that were attached to the poles and these decorative lights were there to breathe life and liven up the atmosphere of the party.

A couple of feet away from the stage is a buffet table, which is located on the left side of the endless array of tables concealed in white, flimsy fabric or material that were made from the finest silk in all of the Dragon Realms and wooden chairs. The buffet table is filled to the brim with plates of succulent food from party or fast food (such as crisps, chips with an assortment of bowls filled to the top with different kinds of sauces to dip into, cake, fruit-flavoured jelly, pepperoni pizza or any other pizza topped with varied toppings and flavours etc) to cuisine, a see-through fruit punch bowl with a silver spoon capable of dipping it, in order to get a spoon full and pouring the fruity liquid into different containers and a selection of drinks which were laid out neatly in rows for the visitors, partiers and residents to stuff their face with and guzzle down, silverware and utensils were neatly positioned close to the dishes and translucent glasses. Basically, it's a smorgasbord of food as far as the eye can see.

The stage is an incredible sight to behold and is recognised as one of the indescribable tourist attractions of the seaside, which the dragons are tremendously proud of. It is in a shape of a dragon that symbolise the main natives of the Dragon Realms that spanned across the top segment of the beach and take up most of the space. The wingspan of the wings is the size of a football pitch and it provides enough room for the fire-shaped LCD screens to fill up. The large sections of the stage can move including the circular central portion of curved LED screens (that is located at the centre of the stage), which can be moved to effect and allow each song to have a different feel. Not to mention, the colours and the screen visuals alter on the LCD screens, depending what song is being played. The extremely long, tail part of the stage is the extensive section where the singers can walk along and interact with the audience. At each corner of the horns, talons, wings and the face, this is where the pyrotechnic mechanisms and special effect smoke, fog and haze machines are situated. As for the stairs, each one can be seen at every end of the legs and arms. Speaking of the flight of steps, they are short in height and are painted in warm colours that represent fire. Even though the stage is in a silhouette of a dragon, there are no detailed features on the face such as eyebrows, pupils in eyes, nostrils, snout etc. An array of stage lighting contraptions which were attached on a batten are suspended above the stage ranging from ellipsoidal reflector spotlights, fresnel lanterns, stage lights, parabolic aluminised reflector lights, strip lights, ellipsoidal reflector floodlights, moving lights, LED stage lights, house lights and work lights and so forth. To put it simply, a rig of 2,300 light instruments of each type is operated during the performances. To bring the performances to life, a myriad of pyrotechnic devices and special effect smoke, fog and haze machines are positioned at each corner of the stage in order to enhance the shows dramatically, create special effects, make lighting and lighting effects visible and lastly, create a specific sense of mood or atmosphere to suit a particular song. Finally, the outline of the dragon-shaped stage and the entire surface are coated in a combination of assorted hues of red from the lightest shade to the darkest. Upon looking at the stage, overall it is up to modern standards. Some might say the stage in Dragon Shores rivals the one from Idol Springs from the Summer Forest homeworld in Avalar and truly puts it to shame.

To accompany the thrilling atmosphere of the shindig, the sounds of blissful screaming, enthusiastic chatting from dragons and magical creatures, young and old alike, filled the air including the occasional, abysmal coughs, fiery sneezes, sniffling, wheezing and hacking sounds from a certain cold-stricken dragon hero. Since the party hasn't officially started, no dance music or floorfiller songs are blaring out of the large, black speakers that were positioned near the stage.

"Awesome! Whoever set up this shindig must have gone all-out here, what do ya think Spyro?" Smokey's eyes light up with excitement, letting them slowly wander whilst taking in the lively scenery around him. He turned to his workmate for his approval and opinion. His excitement immediately changed to an emotion of alarm and became panic-stricken the instant he seen the poorly protector suffering from yet another cough attack. Yet this one is much dreadful than the previous one. "Spyro! Are you all right?"

Spyro gradually moved his head and neck upwards from his crouched position after doubling over from his continuing coughs. "Yeah, I'm okay." He managed to let his words flow out of his reptilian lips, after a round of shallow, wracking coughs violently shook his body and gazing in Smokey's direction with drooping, sickly eyes. "It must be the dry night air that's making my coughs worse.

"You're not suffering from another coughing fit, are you?"

"Heck no. I've already gotten over that."

"No offense, but you look half-dead."

"Oh sure, you have to bring that up, why don't you?"

"How about we change the subject? What do you think of the layout of the party?

Unfortunately, Smokey's question didn't reach the purple dragon's invisible ears when the stage caught his attention as if the question became a blur to him. There's just something about it that tickles his fancy, his adorable, purple eyes glistened with excitement. Besides the luau and the rest of the celebration, this is where all the magic happens. And by the word, "magic", as in belting out songs and performing in front of the enthusiastic audience.

It wouldn't hurt to show everyone what I'm capable of, besides skateboarding, snowboarding, lifeguard duties and saving the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds on a daily basis. Spyro thought to himself, his purple, fatigued eyes were gawking at the stage that is standing before him. Oh, how he longed for the stage if only he isn't feeling under the weather and the fact his denial of his love for singing is preventing him from ascending the stage to reveal his secret talent to his companions, allies and inhabitants.

"Spyro, snap out of it!" Smokey's adolescent, deafening voice snapped the purple-scaled, mythical creature out of his daydream-like trance.

"Huh?" Spyro shook his head, in order to return to reality from losing himself in deep thought and met his colleague's gaze with sagging, poorly eyes as if he didn't have enough sleep for countless months. He wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyway even if he wanted to because of his painful coughs, scorching sneezes, sniffling, hacking and wheezing.

Noticing that his fellow worker is getting sidetracked, Smokey arched an eyebrow at him, not grasping the idea of why he's taking an interest in the stage all of a sudden. "I don't know what's on your mind right now but what's so interesting about the stage?"

"N-Nothing! I-I'm not g-gonna sing, if th-that's what you're implying." Spyro stammered, faltering in his words whilst failing to keep his secret relating to his hidden talent under wraps. If his fellow worker discovers his secret, he'll never hear the end of it… or so he thought.

"Whatever, sometimes you can be so weird. Let's find our friends. I'm sure they're waiting patiently for us."

And with that, the two male lifeguards made their way to their colossal circle of chums that were awaiting their arrival, depending on how many of them are attending the party. Due to the throbbing sensations in Spyro's haunches, shoulders and legs that proved to be a problem and a burden for him, he and Smokey had no choice but to take their time.

By the time they arrived at their destination, yet another cough attack ensued as Spyro elapsed into a chain of continuous, hacking coughs wracked his short, but small, body whilst they shook it with each cough. They were described as dry, painful coughs with harsh, unpleasant sounds. The more he coughed, the more harsher, rougher and painful they sounded as the seconds elapsed. As his hacking coughs progressed, he covered his reptilian lips with one of his claws while squeezing his eyes closed, in order to hold back the pain. Once his bout of hacking coughs diminished until they are absolutely gone, he opened his bleary, sleepy eyes before forcing a feeble, groggy smile in his comrades' direction to make it look like he is all right and to hide the pain he experienced.

Sitting (or floating in Sparx and Zoe's case) around a white-blanketed table which is located somewhere in the back row in a clockwise order were: Sparx, Zoe, Elora, Hunter, Bianca, Macy, Bartholomew, Sgt. James Byrd, Isabelle the Fairy and The Professor. Sheila, Bentley and Agent 9 were noticeably absent from the table, due to being at distant spots around the vast, gargantuan venue of the party.

"Spyro! Smokey! Glad you guys could make it!" Hunter exclaimed, walking over to his best friend before kneeling down on one knee and pulled him into an embrace, which symbolises their undying friendship. Returning the cuddle, he wrapped his teensy wings around him before they released their grip on each other.

"Not a minute too soon, guys!" Bartholomew jumped up and down, clearly overexcited and relieved that the teenage lifeguards manage to show up in one piece. For a second there, he thought they could never make it unless something important has come up but despite his initial assumptions, they thankfully arrived.

"Salutations, Spyro! It has certainly been a while, hasn't it?" The Professor greeted with a heart-warming, friendly beam spread across his lips, looking up from his clipboard. It's been a small number of years since they previously seen each other so his facial expression gives the impression that he's glad to see the purple-scaled, reptilian redeemer again.

"It sure has, Professor. How are things?" Spyro smiled back, but in a faint, weak manner. Sure, he's delighted to see the Professor again but due to the uncomfortable pressure on his sinuses and his lungs, he's like as if he is in a constant battle not to cough or sneeze in his lab coat-wearing, intelligent friend's presence.

"My experiments, calculations, inventions and equations have been going swimmingly and according to plan. But nevertheless, I have found time to spend some quality time with my companions. My favourite pupil, Agent 9, kindly lends me a helping paw to assist me with my experiments and inventions. Now back to the topic at hand, what brings you here?" The Professor rambled, going on about his scientific findings and the wonders of the scientific field as he tapped his trusty pencil on a piece of paper that is stuck on his clipboard he usually made use of.

"It's a bit of a long story but I'm just doing my part-time job here as a lifeguard.

The mole inventor nearly dropped his clipboard and pencil in sheer shock, in reaction to the news the little liberator has provided him. "Egad! You're not protecting the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds anymore, my boy?"

"I'm st Spyro averted his eyes from the Professor as he turned his head away whilst his words were interrupted when an unrelenting sequence of dry, hacking coughs wracked his frame. He coughed painfully, in short and repeated spasms into his claw and his body vibrated with each of them that expelled from his lungs and miniature mouth. When his sickening coughs eventually subsided, he cleared his throat to make his voice sound normal and loosening the mucus that's been blocking up his reptilian gullet as well as removing his claw from his lips and facing the mole scientist. "I'm still defending these worlds on a daily basis, I'm just trying to hide from the media and the paparazzi for a while so I wanted to know what it's like to be a regular guy for once."

"Aren't you a teeny bit worried? It won't be an easy task, attempting to juggle between two responsibilities what with your duty as a hero and your occupation as a beach lifeguard." The Professor enquired, raising one of his white, elderly eyebrows at the teenaged, purple dragon with a tinge of worry evident in his voice. The question is daunting on him for a while so he had the desire to get it off his chest. Now noticing how painfully Spyro has been coughing, the scientific mole shook his brown clipboard, still feeling traumatized and unsettled. Never in all his years he has seen the dragon hero suffering from an affliction, rendering him defenceless and powerless. "Are you quite all right, Spyro? You seem to be coughing an awful lot today. I must say, you've definitely chosen the wrong night to succumb to an illness."

As usual, Spyro still stubbornly refuses to believe that he isn't feeling like himself, something that's currently weighing down on his wings. "I'm not sick. Why are people keep on saying that?" He scowled in the Professor's direction, through clenched, sharp and pointy teeth. Obviously, he is fed up with the sympathetic comments he is bombarded with from not only him but also his friends and any resident he comes into contact with. The last thing he needed is the majority of the population suspecting that he's unwell.

"I believe taking a trip to the doctor and prescribing you with medication is in order. Hmm… if only I have a thermometer with me, I could determine whether you are suffering from a fever or not." The Professor carried on rambling while not keeping his eyes off his clipboard distractedly, dismissing the contradiction from the dragon juvenile, who is still in denial of his current condition.

"I told you I'm not—"

Just before Spyro could continue denying about his mild ailment, he is cut off when out of the blue; he heard a distinct buzzing voice coming from a recognisable, golden dragonfly. He knew it all too well but also, it's a voice he didn't want to hear because he hates the idea of his best friend making a fuss over leaving the house in his ill, debilitated state and his horrific cold.

"Spyro!" A familiar voice buzzed, yelling out the purple protagonist's name. Sometimes, it's hard to tell whether the buzzing is in English or not.

In spite of lacking the ability of seeing his surroundings in the almost pitch blackness of the night, Sparx flew to his best friend's side after spotting him, clearly concerned for his well being and safety. Not only that, but the dragonfly is also aggravated with the poorly, purple protagonist at the same time for departing the house in his incapacitated, ill state. "Spyro! I told you to stay put at home, you belong in bed! I don't want you to get any sicker!

Spyro shifted his sunglasses upwards until they rest on his forehead so he can see his dragonfly partner better and apologise in the best way he could to his dragonfly sidekick. He hates to admit that he is wrong but in times like this, he expresses his regret. Not only did he leave the house without telling his best buddy, but he also puts himself in danger if his past enemies discovered that he's sick with a severe cold. "Sparx, I'm sorry for leaving the house and not listening to your advice. But I've made up my mind and that's that.

"Your health's going to be at risk! And besides, what if our enemies seek revenge on us if they somehow survived from the last time we fought against them? They'll surely take advantage of your sickness and launch an attack on our lands when we least expect it!"

"You're worrying way too much over no Before he had an opportunity to finish his sentence, Spyro coughed harshly into one of his purple front claws, in short and repeated spasms, succumbing to his sickness. After he recovered from his bout of horrible hacking coughs, he composed himself and resumed his argument with his best friend. "…nothing. Just give it a rest, all right?

It didn't take long for Sparx to simmer down from yelling at his best buddy, he knew it is ill-advised to remain being cross with him. "I'm saying this for your own good and most importantly, I want you to get well. You're my best friend and I don't want anything terrible happen to you." He soothingly said, as if he is staying true to his words and attempting to console his close companion, with the purpose of relieving him from his affliction.

"I'll be okay, stop staring at me like that." Spyro shot an icy, peevish glare at his constant companion, fed up with his empathetic gaze. He raised an eyebrow in a questioning way as his temper toned down. "You don't trust me that I'm not capable of taking care of myself?" Due to the tickles irritating his throat which soon resulted into yet another bout of horrendous, hacking coughs, he proceed to cough into his small, purple-tinted claw, in short, dry and spasmodic bursts.

Sparx cringed every time the purple, heroic teen coughed so acutely and painfully which is enough to bring uninviting chills to his teensy body and spine. In comparison to how horribly his cold-stricken, courageous companion coughed right now, the gold dragonfly realised the coughs obviously sounded sicklier than a few days ago as if the coughs came from a stranger since they were unfamiliar to him. Still feeling a bit shaken from hearing Spyro coughing, Sparx built up the nerve to pick up where he left off. "I-It's… j-just… I've never heard you cough this dreadfully. What you need is some medicine STAT! …as soon as you visit a doctor, that is.

"I don't need it and another thing, it's not with us at the moment."

"Spyro, you'll never get better if you don't cooperate."

Even though he is weak in the knees and there is discomfort in every bone in his miniature body, the young, purple dragon had a bit of energy within him to object. "The answer is still no." He uttered this slowly in a stubborn manner; giving emphasis to how exhausted he is and the fact the symptoms took their toll on him.

"Spyro, why are you squabbling with a dragonfly?" Smokey queried, baffled with his well-known idol's undying bond with his dragonfly sidekick and unaware that they're the best of friends since the beginning of their lives, not to mention effectively disrupting the argument.

Spyro motioned his head to Sparx, indicating to whom he is talking to. "He's not just a dragonfly, he's my best buddy and my health indicator. This is Sparx, the one I've been telling you ab The purple dragon's words were cut off when he felt a tickling sensation itching his snout. He moved a claw to it as he intakes air and leaned back, on the verge of let out a sizzling sneeze. "Atishoo!" He lurched forward, ejecting a violent flow of blistering blaze from his diminutive nostrils and nose. "…about during our indu His sentence is cut short yet again, about to let out another sweltering sneeze. Groping for his packet of handkerchiefs in his bag, he lightly yanked out a pocket-sized packet of handkerchiefs before pulling a random tissue from it. He raised a claw to his nose, on the brink of sneezing. "Ah… Ah… Ahhh… AH-CHOOOOOOOO!" He rocked forward, forcing air, a blast of intensive, blazing inferno and snot out of his snout and ruddy nose unexpectedly, involuntarily, and piercingly. "…induction." He concluded his sentence, sniffling nasally for what appears to be the umpteenth time.

"Bless you!" Elora, Hunter, Bianca, Macy, Bartholomew, Sgt. James Byrd and Isabelle shouted in unison, knowing it's appropriate to answer after their buddy or anyone sneezed. Their voices all combined to become one voluble voice.

"Gesundheit!" Sparx, Smokey and The Professor exclaimed all at once, replying after their cold-stricken chum expelled a fiery, but strident, sneeze that grated excruciatingly against their ears. Out of the trio, the golden dragonfly couldn't communicate in English, due to the fact he is only fluent in his own language that consists of an assortment of buzzing.

"Thanks guys." Spyro smiled gratefully towards his fretful friends in a frail, unwell manner, sniffling weakly and nasally simultaneously.

Regardless of the colossal amount of sympathy the renowned, almighty Dragon Realms' protector is receiving, Macy took the opportunity to offer him an unsupportive comment just like she tends to do. In fact, her remark is referring to if he unintentionally sneezed in one of his buddies' direction; he could have reduced either of them to a mound of smouldering ashes, thus eliminating them. "You know you're probably the only guy at the moment who can kill anyone accidentally by sneezing.

"I covered my nose, didn't I? At least, I didn't sneeze at anyone, whether intentionally or not. So, I don't see your point."

Disregarding the insignificant argument between Spyro and Macy, Smokey addressed his open-minded greeting to the golden dragonfly, flashing him a welcoming wide smile. "It's great to finally meet you."

Sparx whispered indistinctly into Spyro's hidden ears even as the golden dragonfly is uttering in buzzing sounds, which is his way of communicating. To make sure he heard the words carefully and clearly, Spyro leaned over to his sidekick and nodded, understanding what he informed him about.

Unfortunately, the purple protagonist proceeded to cough continuously into his front, right claw, succumbing to his mild ailment as each unpleasant, hacking cough wracked his miniature body and chest. The more he coughed, the more loudly, sickeningly and unbearably his coughs get. As soon as his painful coughing subsided, he removed his claw from his reptilian lips and went back to listening to his partner.

Seeing as he has a long distance relationship with his dragonfly due to his part-time occupation, Smokey is apparently rusty in comprehending what the gold dragonfly has to say. Therefore, he has a tough time trying to make out the words from the buzzing sounds. "What did he say?"

"He says it's a pleasure to meet you." Spyro managed to rasp out whilst a faint smile is stretched across his lips; his croaky, cracking voice interfered with his speaking which hints at him starting to lose his voice with every word he spoke. He moved his head in his grey-skinned colleague's direction, showing his dragonfly who he is. "This is Smokey, he's my colleague and new chum. Our friendship bond has been growing stronger, the more we hang out with each other. We have to anyway or we'll never get far in this job." After he is done with explaining who Smokey is, he discharged a few dry coughs from his mouth, covering it with one of his purple, pint-sized claws as he coughed before concluding with a question, relating to his co-worker's dragonfly guardian. "So where's your dragonfly?"

"My dragonfly's at home and he's looking after the house while I'm at work."

Attempting to join in the conversation and now aware of his poorly pal being afflicted with a terrible cold from hearing him continuously coughing and sneezing, Sgt. Byrd saluted him in a respectful manner whilst encouraging him to recuperate. He imagined enduring an illness is kind of being involved in a military war but without the bombs, missiles, guns etc he most likely will expect from warfare and conflicts. "I am unsure if I have heard this correctly but is it true that you are in poor health? If my assumptions are correct, keep fighting the good fight, Spyro. In time, you will soon prevail in this war.

Failing to understand what the flying penguin is going on about, Spyro raised his right, scaly eyebrow with a frown plastered on his purple-coloured face before replying with a statement of his own, mistakenly interpreting the meaning behind the sergeant's military words. "But I'm not confronting anyone or any villain, for that matter.

With a single nod, The Professor agreed with Sgt. James Byrd, giving an explanation of withstanding an illness is kind of similar to being involved in a war. "Sgt. Byrd is quite correct. It is almost like a war except that you are fighting against an illness. To simplify, your immune system is defending against your sickness. If your will is reasonably potent, you will be on the road to recovery.

"I still don't see how this is related to my cold."

The Professor, however, ignored the purple hero; he clutched his trusty pencil and busily writing down important notes on the blank, white paper that is stuck securely on his clipboard. Obviously, he is absorbed into jotting down on it, in case he absent-mindedly forgot to get down to business of researching for a cure suitable for the poorly, purple protagonist without making eye contact with him. He is still scribbling away, not allowing the pencil to move off the breakable, flimsy paper. "I will consult to the alchemist from Fracture Hills, perhaps we will devise a method or some kind of substance in a form of a healing potion, in order to cure you. If it turns out to be successful, it will be a groundbreaking achievement! It will revolutionise the scientific community!

"Professor, don't ge Spyro stopped in full flow of his sentence when an irritating sensation were tickling annoyingly in his throat which resulted in a consecutive chain of dry, hacking coughs wracked his chest, underbelly and body to an dreadfully large extent, coughing painfully into his right, scaly claw. As he coughed, he squeezed his eyes closed to keep back the excruciating pain that is almost like innumerable amount of needles were piercing through his upper body. His disturbingly, harsh coughing came to a halt after what seemed like several seconds has elapsed whilst he opened his drooping, non-drowsy eyes and moved his claw away from his reptilian lips as he regained his composure. "Don't get too carried away just yet, trying to cure me might not be easier than you think.

Regardless of the purple protagonist's contradiction, Macy looked on the bright side of things, directing her optimistic comment to him, in an attempt to convince him that the idea is satisfactory. "But just think of it. Not only healing you will do you good, it will most likely be the biggest achievement and discovery the Professor has ever made. It will get him famous and be recognised among the scientific community. He'll be known as the brainiac who cured a sickly hero."

"I appreciate the optimism… erm… may I have your name please, young lady?" The Professor paused to avert his eyes away from his clipboard before meeting the cat wizard's emerald-tinted eyes, grateful for the uplifting encouragement before pausing within his sentence; realising Macy hasn't provided him with her name. As a result, he addressed his question to the female cat wizard.

"Macy." The cat wizard offered her name to the scientific inventor without hesitation, always welcome to befriend new people than the ones she already encountered.

"Much obliged, Macy. Your name is sounds pleasurable to the ears. Discovering the proper cure is a problematical road ahead of me but researching for the correct cure for the common cold requires intensive study. According to my analysis, there is absolutely no known remedy for the coryza." The Professor couldn't help himself but ramble on, relating to coming across a cure, with the intention of healing the ailing, purple dragon.

"So much for curing Spyro and gaining recognition."

In an attempt to perk up the female, cat wizard's spirits, Spyro forced a cheerless, frail smile that curved across his rough, scaly lips, emphasising that he is having a hard time of trying to express his happiness. Not only is he not at his best, his sickness is causing him to drown in sorrow. "Don't worry 'bout it, Macy. I'll be well again before you know it and I'll recover from it the old-fashioned way." Even his words tried to convince himself that he is the opposite of being poorly.

"By…?" Macy is egging her cold-stricken friend on, staring directly into his ill, sagging eyes and urging him to reply to her short question.

Spyro opened his mouth and would have described how he is going to pull through his illness, however he refrained himself from speaking when Elora has beaten him to listing the things that will ensure his recovery. "Plenty of bed rest, consuming Vitamin C, taking your medicine and drinking large quantity of hot fluids." As she mentioned the last small number of words, she turned her attention to him, implying she directed those words to him.

"I'm about to say that." Spyro countered with a reply that he muttered inaudibly under his breath, slightly displeased that the Avalarian faun caused him to desist from answering the cat wizard's question.

Regardless of how quiet the purple boy of a dragon uttered his response, the brunette-haired, female faun replied in a playful sort of manner, having a little bit of fun with him which is her way of trying to get him into the partying mood. "Of course you were, Spyro."

Getting caught up with his conversation with some of his companions and allies, the purple protector barely noticed the absence of his comrades from the Forgotten Worlds. Darting his eyes from left to right, he noticed some of his comrades were missing from their table. "Hey, where are Sheila, Bentley and Agent 9?

"Sheila's having a bit of trouble with Moneybags who just so happened to turn up at Dragon Shores." Zoe responded with a dismal expression, piping up for the first time in numerous hours. Since her friends have been hogging the attention, she never had the opportunity to converse with the ailing, purple protector. Her face told him the kangaroo got herself into a mess, preventing her from meeting up with her past chums.

"As for the others, some of them are at the buffet table while a few are mingling with the other partiers." Sparx added, buzzing as his way of communicating with his best friend. Out of everyone, the littlest, purple reptile is the only one who can comprehend what his dragonfly sidekick informed him.

With a determined expression on his pallid, purple face while trying to conceal his pain from his sickness, Spyro already made up his mind, without hesitant and willing to get Sheila the Kangaroo out of her dilemma. "Don't worry, I'm on it.

Before the heroic celeb sped off to take care of business somewhere else on the beach, Smokey placed a grey-coloured paw on one of his colleague's aching haunches, causing him to turn around to face directly at him and thus, stopping him from heading off to give the greedy bear a good talking to.

"Hold up, Spyro. Are you sure you can handle dispensing disciplinary action by yourself?" He questioned, worry remained clear in his voice and obviously possessing no knowledge of who Moneybags is, considering he hasn't met him yet. Due to that reason, he is uncertain whether his colleague should punish the avaricious bear on his own.

"Hey, I've faced horrible things before. How hard is dealing with Moneybags can be?" Spyro scoffed in an arrogant manner, referring to the time he chased Moneybags around Midnight Mountain a small number of years ago, torching his butt and charging into him, reclaiming his money back in the process due to the fact, he threatened to sell a dragon egg for a fortune at Avalar.

"How about we do this together?"

"I don't need YOU or anybody's help, I can do this by myself." With a huff, Spyro marched up to Smokey, despite of the painfulness and ache in his stubby legs due to the symptoms of his severe cold and scowled straight into his eyes, fire burning within the purple dragon's eyes. "Either I'm going or neither of us are tackling this problem.

After concluding his sentence, the purple pubescent stormed off in a short-tempered mood, stomping the ground with every step he makes. The moment the he is out of sight, Smokey's expression changed to a frown, aggravated with his workmate's attitude and behaviour towards him. Sure, Spyro is his idol and who he looks up to but he has the right to be frustrated with his role model, friend and co-worker.

Throwing his front paws in the air in exasperation, Smokey is fed up with Spyro's stubborn pride and the fact he wouldn't put it aside. "Sometimes, I don't know how you guys can put up with him. He's as stubborn as a mule… maybe a lot more stubborn." He repeated the word "stubborn" to emphasise his point since he already lost his patience with the 14-year-old, courageous protector.

Understanding the other young lifeguard's displeasure, Elora attempted to calm him down in the sweetest, soothing voice she can do. "He may be difficult at times but you'll get used to him soon." Seeing as she has known the purple guy since his arrival in Glimmer, she has adapted to his personality and what makes him as the renowned, dragon hero the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds have ever lived and heard.

The minute the words flowed into Smokey's invisible, scaly ears, his expression softened and his anger toned down to a minimum. "And whatever makes you say that?" He asked, not entirely convinced with the Avalari faun's words of wisdom. Knowing Spyro, he'll carry on to be the way he is. It's his nature and how things go with him.

"He's been like that since I first met him.

"Sheesh, what's his problem? Talk about being huffy, that's so not like him to be like that." Macy promptly placed her white, furry paws on her hip, annoyed of the little, purple lifeguard's attitude. "Huff the Magic Dragon." She cracks up snickering at her humorous remark as she mumbled in an almost muffled tone, referring to her hotheaded, but mulish, dragon friend.

However, Smokey is quick to hearing the cat wizard's heartless nickname, regardless of her muttering. "Good one, Macy!" Smokey laughed heartily, finding the harsh nickname hilarious. In a few seconds, he ceased his sniggering and frowned, realising that it will most likely offend Spyro if he discovers the female cat wizard took the mickey out of his stubbornness and irresponsible behaviour. "Although, it isn't nice to call my colleague like that.

"I know but I weren't evil in the past for nothing." The cat wizard removed her white, furred paws from her hip before crossing her arms and smirked in a self-confident manner, proud of her old personality and recalling the old days of where she used to treat anyone, including her fellow cat wizards like dirt in Charmed Ridge.

"Should we go after him?" Hunter is the first one to ask, undoubtedly worried about his best friend's safety as he fidgeted with his fingers, feeling uneasy and fearing for the consequences the 14-year-old, ailing dragon might face if he let his guard down.

Still fed up with his co-worker's obstinate attitude, Smokey crossed his legs (since he lacked arms, seeing as he is depicted as a quadruped, young dragon) and grunted peevishly. "You heard him! He doesn't need our help or mine, most specifically speaking." To prove his point, he gnashes his draconic, pointed teeth in sheer frustration.

"He's so dedicated to his lifeguard duties rather than recovering from whatever illness ailed him. It's like as if he'll continue to be like that or defend our worlds and realms, even if it kills him." Bartholomew pointed out, feeling sympathetic for his pig-headed, purple-scaled pal. Even though the small saviour is sick, he still insists on being there for anyone in dire danger but isn't used to people nursing him back to health or worrying over him.

Being the voice of reason once again, Elora piped up with a moral message of her own but alas, it is too late to tell Spyro about that. "Offering help to others is just as all right as receiving help.

Upon hearing the faun's moral message, Smokey looked directly into her sapphire eyes as his temper is reduced to a moderate level at a slow pace. "Then why didn't you tell him?"

Elora shook her head, knowing that trying to enlighten the daring, determined dragon with her moral message isn't going to make him change his mind, which means it is futile. "He won't listen. You know how he gets when he's determined to set his mind to whatever he's doing.

"Exactly. Even if we ask him the same question, he won't take 'yes' for an answer."

"So, what are gonna do?" Hunter addressed his question to Smokey. Within seconds, he and the others aimed their eyes at him, awaiting an answer from him.

"We'll just have to wait here 'til Spyro comes back. If he doesn't, then we'll have to search for him to see if he's okay and out of harms way." Smokey answered, directing his reply to the cheetah and his new buddies. Leadership may not be his top priority, however he has gained that kind of skill during his part-time occupation as a beach lifeguard if he must enforce the rules.


Meanwhile, Moneybags is up to his usual swindling tricks again but this time, he has his keen eyes on Sheila the Kangaroo's gems. In fact, he and the kangaroo can be seen standing close to the karaoke stage. He puts his plan into action, intending on charging the denizens for ascending the stage to perform for the raving audience. Ensuring that his scheme will come to fruition, he purposely blocked the stairway with his broad, plump body that prevented the residents to gain access to the stage.

"In order to impress the masses with your melodious singing, you're required to pay a reasonable sum of money." He enlightened the kangaroo; making use of a fake rule he created out of nowhere in order to fool the unsuspecting victims of his money-swindling schemes. In reality, it isn't part of the regulations within the rulebooks the young lifeguards have in their possession.

From what she recalled, karaoke is free of charge and doesn't really require a fee to perform on the stage. Believing the shenanigans to be unnecessary, Sheila the Kangaroo placed her light brown, furry paws on her hips while craning her undersized neck, with the purpose of meeting the bear's eyes. "That ain't right, mate. I don't remember about a rule of paying any fees to sing. I'm reportin' to one of the lifeguards 'bout this."

"I am terribly sorry but money surely makes the world go round. As for the outstanding fee, I require 1,000 gems from you.

"I ain't paying up even if you try to bribe me. I don't think none of the lifeguards said anything about this."

The Australian kangaroo grumbled, loathing the idea of shelled out her cash to the gem-grabbing, selfish bear. "You're so persistent, aren't ya? Fine, here are 1,000 gems." She reluctantly surrendered before she somehow withdrew a white sack of money from out of nowhere since she lacked any pockets and pouches and handed them to him.

With the gems in his possession, Moneybags laughed hungrily to himself as if he won the lottery. When he opened the sack, his circle-shaped, green eyes were glazed as the gems sparkled and glistened brilliantly right in front of him, white, illuminating light is reflecting from them. Even his reflection is showing within the blinding transparency. "Oooooh, yes! Precious, precious gems! Very well then, you are allowed to ascend the stage."

His gleefully laughing carried on until the point it is immediately cut short when he heard a voice that seemed to be all too recognisable to him. As if things couldn't get any worse for him, Spyro or any of the newly recruited lifeguards were the people he didn't want to see; due to the fact he dreads either of them were aware of his dastardly deeds.

"What the heck is going on here?" A familiar, male voice bellowed in an authoritive tone, which came from a certain, recognisable lifeguard teen. Strangely, his voice is booming louder than normal as if he used some kind of device to enhance or increase the volume of his voice.

Upon hearing Spyro's commanding tone with a hint of hoarseness in his voice, Sheila's lips curved into a heart-warming smile as she caught sight of a short, dragonesque silhouette approaching them. She felt relieved that one of the lifeguards came to her rescue just in time. She had a feeling that he'll be on her side, handing out disciplinary action to the tight-fisted, money-loving bear.

"G'day, mate." Sheila graciously greeted the purple, pubertal lifeguard in her typical Australian accent, which reflects her personality and characteristics. "This gem-pinching bear is tryin' to fleece me off my money." Still holding a grudge against the stout, stingy bear, she eyed him with a burning passion that suggests how enraged she is, indicating who ripped her off.

"Is this true?" Spyro addressing his question to Moneybags, in a breathy, cracking voice, lowering down his megaphone from his purple-tinted, reptilian lips. The current sound of his voice gave emphasis to his illness causing the sudden change in his voice and the fact it's been infected.

Still not recognising the pubescent, purple dragon from his new get-up, Moneybags tried to reason with him in his typical high-class accent, not to mention lying to him with the intention of getting himself out of his current situation. Although, he knew the lifeguard is a male, which is the reason why he refers to him as "sir". "You are very well mistaken, sir. I have no intention to do no such thing. I believe it is your duty to discipline this naughty young lady.

"Yeah, right! I recognise your voice from anywhere. You're the one I should punish.

"Heavens! What has gotten into you? I presumed lifeguards usually discipline any inhabitant that violates the rules." Moneybags almost jumped on the spot in sheer shock in reaction to the pubertal, purplish reptile, not expecting him to cast doubt on him.

"You ha Just when Spyro thought he could finish his sentence, he elapsed into an uncontrollable, hacking coughing fit as he immediately went down into a crouching position and coughed severely, persistently and violently into both of his claws for seconds and minutes without end and at an alarmingly rapid rate before he could retort angrily at his enemies. His hacking coughs were becoming deeper, harsher and rougher than the last time he coughed disturbingly; depending on how harder he coughed. They were released from his painfully, sore lungs, one after another and can range from the quietest to the extreme loudest. They are dry, painful coughs with harsh, unpleasant sounds that are excessively unbearable for words or to describe. They are so discordant, they rendered the kangaroo's words indistinct and to no avail, as if she is talking in an almost silent voice.

"Blimey! You okay mate? What's the matter?" Sheila shouted in sheer alarm, fearing for what is happening to the teenage lifeguard. Her green eyes grew to an enormous extent at the sight of the poorly, purple protector suffering from a coughing fit. She quickly came to his aid as she held him firmly with her furred paws to make sure he doesn't fall down from coughing non-stop.

To stop his hacking coughing fit, Spyro slowly rose up from his kneeling position before reaching into his purple bag to take out a bottle of crystal-clear, cool water with one of his claws as he continued to cough painfully, roughly and harshly without covering his reptilian lips for innumerable seconds and minutes on end, one after the other. He unscrewed the lid in a clockwise direction and took a couple of sips from the bottle. The watery liquid slid down his mouth and his excessively, sore lungs until the substance eventually reached the bottom of his stomach. He then placed the lid back on and twisted it in a counter clockwise motion before slipping the bottle into his bag and sighing deeply with relief, slowly collecting himself from his horrible, hacking coughing fit and regaining his breath.

"Are you all right now? Crikey! You're not coughing to death, are you?" Sheila addressed her empathetic questions to the cold-stricken, purple protagonist as she helped him up to his feet using her furry paws. Since she has never witnessed anyone, especially someone of heroic status, suffering from a ghastly coughing fit before, it makes sense why she is feeling sorry for him. With her help, he used his teeny, white talons and clasped on to her furry, brown body as support before he brought himself up and stood on all fours.

"Heck, no. I just got a ton of tickles prickling my throat. That's the last of my worries." Spyro shook his head to the marsupial's question as his reply; he hoped his lie would cover up his coughing fit that occurred so abruptly. After collecting himself, he averted his eyes from Sheila and confronted Moneybags with an unforgiving, but stern, glare as his voice returned to an authoritive tone; he'll see to it that the greedy bear will be disciplined in a strict manner. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes. You have no right to be here!"

Getting scolded by the young lifeguard is one thing but witnessing him suffering from a hacking coughing fit is another. Moneybags would have took advantage of Spyro's sickness, however he knew better than to oppose him in an argument which would most surely be a one-way ticket out of Dragon Shores if punishment followed. "Please, sir! You must let me finish!"

"Now, return the gems back to her or I'll see to it that your punishment will be far more severe."

"Now, hold on! Swindling gems from this young woman is not my top priority." Moneybags held up his paws in defence, trying to lie out of his predicament but to no avail, considering the fact Spyro is advancing on him with fire burning radiantly in his eyes, representing his anger. Adding to the suffering he experienced because of his dreadful cold, he obviously isn't in the best of moods.

"If I had a gem every time I heard that one." Spyro rolled his eyes, disbelieving the greedy bear. After all the times he is forced to cough up a certain amount of gems in his previous adventures, he has certainly learnt from his past not to be gullible. He continued scolding the bear in his authoritive, but stern, tone of voice. "If I see you here again, you're sooooo askin' for it but I'm watching you."

Reluctantly, Moneybags placed down his sack of stolen gems on the ground for Sheila to repossess them. She hopped over to the bag and happily reclaimed them, much to the bear's dissatisfaction.

"What are you waiting for? Get lost!" Spyro craned his neck and head up, in order to glower heatedly and indifferently at the penny-pinching bear in a strict, but authoritative, manner. Whoa… I think Stanley or Daniel's strictness is rubbing off on me. He thought in astonishment, grasping the realisation that the way he treated Moneybags and ordering him around is much brutal than how he normally acted towards him. All that listening to his coach and employer must have paid off.

"If you weren't here in time, I would have gotten away with ripping off money from this kangaroo and I would have successfully rake in all that cash." The dapper, ungenerous bear murmured indistinctly to himself, complaining that his money-making plan has foiled. He deliberately decreased the volume of his voice with the intention of not letting the adolescent dragon being well-informed of what he is plotting.

"What is that?" The pubescent, purple dragon leaned his head and neck forward, with the intention listening carefully and cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, assuming the bear muttered something inaudibly under his breath.

"N-Nothing, sir." Moneybags stuttered and faltered in his words, cowering before the lifeguard. It isn't normal for him to be frightened but when it comes to being face to face with any beach lifeguards, he is shivering in fright but tried to look composed in front of the teenaged lifeguard.

When it comes to his part-time lifeguard job, Spyro's presence has indeed brought some kind of commanding aura surrounding him. However, when he's mingling with his trustworthy companions, his attitude and personality changes to his usual persona.

"Good 'cause I don't wanna hear another word out of you. You are dismissed." As he concluded his scolding, he made a moving gesture with his claws, as if he is telling the avaricious, money-hungry bear to leave the tropical beach.

After he waddled off into the night without a moment to spare, Moneybags seethed and rambled on in his mind about the fact his moneymaking plan failed miserably, due to a certain courageous lifeguard who is practically in his way. His brave endeavours and deeds sort of reminded him of a particular purple dragon except for having authority and enforcing the rules on the seashore. Hmph! That kangaroo is fortunate to have a lifeguard protecting her in the nick of time. Who does he think he is? Ordering me around and scolding at me as if he has authority over me! Mark my words, I will return to reclaim the gems I rightfully deserve!

"Much obliged, mate. But aren't you too strict on him?" Sheila thanked, expressing her thanks and touched by the lifeguard's act of kindness, despite of his strictness towards Moneybags.

"No problem!" Spyro grinned, with an optimistic, but pleasant-sounding, giggle that came from his throat. Telling by his light-hearted attitude, he is glad to help out Sheila the Kangaroo who is in need of some help. "Puh-lease. He had it coming!" He said in a resentful, but arrogant, tone as if he didn't care about hurting Moneybags' feelings and casually flicked his front, right paw downwards in a cocky manner. "Besides, I can't tolerate his behaviour and actions right now."

"I'm not one to worry but what if he comes back, even if you scolded him?

Spyro's friendly smile immediately changed to a frown, feeling an annoying tickle irritating his agonising sore, but scorching, lungs which soon about to develop into a bothersome cough which is getting on his nerves. "Don't worry, I'll Unfortunately, he couldn't suppress the tickling sensation as he placed a claw over his reptilian lips and succumb. A spasmodic sequence of nagging, hacking coughs then proceeded to wrack his small, short body while he coughed harshly into one of his purple-skinned claws. His coughs are described as repeated painful coughs with unpleasant sounds.

Instantly being aware that there's something wrong with the lifeguard teen, Sheila cautiously tilted her head to look directly at his flushed, pallid face with a worried emotion evidentially in her emerald-coloured eyes whilst he kept coughing stridently and disturbingly into his miniature, purple-tinted claw. "You okay, mate?

"I've never felt better." It is all Spyro could let out from his reptilian lips after suffering from a bout of dreadful hacking coughs that lingered on and shook his body powerfully, not to mention harmed his terribly sore lungs. He forced a smile to make himself look like he's all right. He knew his really nasty, hacking coughs left a disgusting taste in his mouth and on his dark red tongue that caused him to gag or retch.

"You don't sound fine to me. I reckon you should take some medicine or see a doctor, mate. For now, I'd better head back to me mates before they wonder where I am."

"I'll be okay, I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle." Spyro reassured the fretful kangaroo in a confident tone of voice, in order to conceal the insufferable pain he's enduring and assuring her that he is okay. "If you're in trouble, just give me a shout and I'll be there. I'll see you later."

Sheila watched the lifeguard teen wearily walking off into the distance, most likely heading back to his allies and comrades whilst his body slowly shrinks with every step he makes. That lifeguard's nice and all, but why he isn't admitting that he's sick? I reckon there's something wrong with him. She mused to herself, suspecting that he has already fallen victim to the common cold or some sort of viral disease or infection.

And with that, she hopped back to where her friends are awaiting her return. Not only are her colossal circle of companions are there but the truth behind the mysterious, young lifeguard's true identity is waiting patiently for her as well.


By the looks of it, her friends are in the same spots where she left them. Most perceptibly, a few of her Forgotten Worlds comrades still haven't come back from mingling with the other civilians. She happily hops over to the table, joining with her companions. Upon hearing the sounds of hopping, they swivelled around and immediately perked up as soon as she crossed their field of vision. As soon as she finally got to her destination, she brought her journey to a halt and took the liberty of take up a random spot in the reasonably gargantuan group.

"Sorry for keepin' you mates waiting, I had to deal with a jer Sheila stopped in mid sentence when her green eyes fell on the familiar, ill lifeguard she recalled from earlier. He just so happened to be sitting or standing with his circle of companions he befriended during his epic adventures before he got the job to hide from the publicity and to take a break from his struggle against the antagonists. Her eyes grew gigantic and wide, astonished that the ailing lifeguard somehow knew about their chums. "Hey! I recognise you! You're the guy who helped me get out of the mess with that stingy bear but why are you with me mates… unless… nah, you can't be who I think you are, are you?"

The kangaroo's assumption is correct as Spyro slowly took off his sunglasses that concealed his purple, watery and sickly eyes, revealing himself as one of the new young lifeguards of this tropical beach. He greeted the marsupial in a low, cracking voice, due to his terrible cold and with a draconic grin that is spread across his scaly lips whilst he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Hey, Sheila. Sorry I had to hide my identity but I had to keep a low profile." After he gave her an apologetic, but ashamed, look, he released a short, shallow cough from his mouth as he covered it with a front, left claw. However, his cough is barely audible as if he muffled it and it is hardly horrible, in comparison to how he typically coughs.

"Blimey! This means that kind lifeguard is you this entire time? Why didn't you tell me?

Spyro bent his purple-tinted head down in shame, feeling guilty due to the fact he hid his secret relating to his part-time lifeguard occupation and his awful cold from his trustworthy friends. Raising his head upwards and moving a claw to the back of his head, he scratched it in a sheepish manner. It is like as if he lied to them, not notifying them where he is. "Yes, that's true. I wanted to tell you guys but I've gotta wait 'til all of you are ready to hear the truth. I didn't mean to deceive you all."

"It would certainly mean a lot to us if you enlighten us with the truth, if you will." Bentley replied in his usual British accent, eagerly, but politely, awaiting the truth from his cocky, but cold-stricken, companion. The way he uttered those words sounds as if they came from a high-class, posh society.

"Yeah! Out with it, Spyro!" Agent 9 exclaimed, egging Spyro on even as the hyperactive monkey increased the volume of his voice. Clearly, he's eager and excited to hear the truth from the famous, celebrity hero and he can hardly wait any longer.

"Don't keep us in suspense." Isabelle the Fairy added, she couldn't agree with the male protagonists anymore whilst her teensy wings constantly fluttered with anticipation.

"I don't have a choice now, do I?" Spyro asked his faithful friends, attempting to get out of this tight spot. Unluckily, all he received as a reply is his allies shaking their heads left and right repeatedly. He sadly heaved a sigh and cleared his throat, beginning his account of how he managed to get the part-time job and how he became ill with a horrendous cold. "It all started when I was tasked with babysitting three dragon hatchlings but unfortunately for me, they're unwell. We had a lot of fun until Gildas showed up and suggested that I should get a job as a part-time lifeguard at Dragon Shores. Before he departed, he handed a leaflet to me that advertise the occupation. As soon as I reached my home at night, I somehow came down with a very bad cold. The next day, I went to Dragon Shores by myself to get enrolled on to the job. Once there, I met my employer, colleague and my coach but ever since I had this job, the symptoms of my awful cold took their toll on me."

"Crikey! It all makes sense now. That explains why you're acting all weird before." Sheila pondered to herself, putting two and two together, eventually coming to the conclusion why her friend is acting strange or out of character.

"Well, I didn't want anyone to discover about my sickness, let alone my job."

"I wouldn't be surprised if your enemies find out the truth." Macy muttered, crossing her arms and using the right moment to lower the young dragon's self-esteem.

In spite of his hidden ears being blocked because of the symptoms, Spyro promptly narrowed his eyes and glared furiously in the cat wizard's direction as he increased the volume of his voice without straining it. "Not helping here, Macy!"

With an optimistic smile, Bianca tried to move the conversation on to brighter things, trying to cheer her friend up and make him take his mind off of being poorly. "Ignore her. Just try to think positively and stay strong, Spyro."

"C'mon, let's take a se A series of heavy, mucus coughs wracked Spyro's stunted, but petite, body before he could conclude his sentence as he coughed into one of his purple, puny claws. As his coughs extended for a slightly long period of time, he shut his eyes firmly to suppress the intensive pain whilst they sounded gross and wet at the same time. When his wet, damp coughs dwindled until they entirely subsided, he collected himself whilst he removed his claw from his reptilian lips and beckoned his companions with a gesture to follow him using one of his purplish, petite claws. "Let's take a seat, I have a feeling the party's about to start.

One by one, his allies followed him and Smokey to where the innumerable rows of chairs were planted and arranged neatly on the ground in front of the elaborate and highly decorative stage.


Each inhabitant all scrambled in random, unknown directions to secure the seats, it is like first come, first serve. The last remaining people will have to settle for the back rows of chairs or standing still. In fact, it is like a hectic war zone, claiming the seats for themselves to park their bottoms on.

Although Sparx is Spyro's dragonfly, he told him to follow his group of faithful allies until he is needed.

The first row is reserved for the lifeguard team, sitting in the seats from left to right; Stanley, Daniel, Spyro and Smokey.

The second row is fully booked with Spyro's friends from left to right; Sparx, Zoe, Hunter, Bianca, Elora, The Professor, Macy, Bartholomew, Sheila the Kangaroo, Sgt. James Byrd, Isabelle the Fairy, Bentley and Agent 9.

The various magical creatures and talking animals hailed from each homeworld of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds filled the last couple of rows.

Each race from every part and realm of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds were chatting enthusiastically amongst themselves, clearly looking forward to partying hard until the break of dawn or when they feel like calling it a day. Obviously, the karaoke and the luau parties were the best highlights.

As soon as Gildas ascended the stairs that leads to the top of the stage, his presence silenced the entire audience when he clutched the microphone in one of his hefty, blue-scaled claws.

"Welcome to our karaoke and beach party! I'm Gildas and I'm your host for tonight! For those of you who live outside the Dragon Realms, we'll always give you a warm welcome and make all of you feel right at home. Before the karaoke officially commences, I will fill you in on what Dragon Shores has to offer." His vociferous voice boomed all across the beach for all to hear clearly and carefully as well as out of the tall, but colossal, black speakers.

As Gildas began to ramble and explain about the late-night schedule of this Friday night, a conversation occurred between the young lifeguards causing the blue dragon's explanations to become indistinct and unclear. They lowered down their voices until it's barely a whisper, enabling the other members of the audience to listen carefully and taking in the adult dragon's words into their minds.

Normally, Smokey would expect coughing, sneezing, hacking, wheezing or rasping sounds from his cold-stricken colleague every so often but instead a few, horrendous coughs grates insufferably against his unseen ears. Mistakenly assuming the unpleasant sounds were coming directly from the purple dragon; he looks towards him, who is minding his own business kicking his legs back and forth repetitively as if Gildas has seemingly bored him to death with his bland, mind-numbing speeches.

In case his words failed to reach the fourteen-year-old, adolescent dragon (unless his ears were infected too), Smokey tilted his head to his side and promptly whispered his question in one of his cleverly hidden ears in the quietest voice possible. "Spyro, is that you doing that?

Upon hearing this question, Spyro slowed his casual kicking to a complete halt before he faced his fellow worker, cocking his left eyebrow at him. Judging by his bewildered expression and the kind of look he gave him, he has no idea of what or whom he is going on about. "What are you talking about?"

"Is that you coughing dreadfully just now?"

"Nope." Spyro shook his head as his answer to his colleague's question. "My coughs don't sound like that, mine sound even worse most of the time." He said in a matter of fact kind of tone, he knew his coughs sound differently and far more excruciating.

Once again, a couple more repulsive coughs ringing out against Smokey's ears that were secreted somewhere on his complexion and skin textures. As if his cold-stricken colleague's coughs aren't unbearable enough, he has to put up with somebody else's coughing.

"There it goes again!" He placed his pocket-sized, grey-tinted claws over his unseen ears, in an attempt to deaden the dissonant, sickening sounds as he cringed.

"Smokey, you might wanna look behind you to search for the cougher or coughers." The valiant, but ill, defender suggested, recommending his proposition to his workmate with the purpose of uncovering the identities of the folks that were sending out repugnant coughs from their gullets and mouths.

Smokey swivelled his head around to witness three dragon hatchlings being cradled in Nestor's adult-sized, green claws. Apparently, they each had baby-sized, white-coloured facemasks covering their snouts and miniature maws, in order to avoid infecting other citizens. This indicates that they've already taken a trip to the doctor but judging by their innocence and immaturity, they inadvertently infected Spyro with their dreadful cold. Seeing as the majority of the beach is packed and the population has taken up all the chairs that are covered in a black plastic surface, Nestor had no choice but to remain standing at the left side of the back row.

Realisation struck the small, grey-scaled teenager as if an unbreakable, sturdy brick collided with his head, now understanding where the purple protector could have probably caught his cold. "That means, you're not the only one who's sick?" He queried, in an almost astonished sort of way as if he never expected four young dragons to fall ill with the common cold all in one day… or so he presumed.

Spyro started to fumble about for a small packet of tissues in his purple bag, dragging a white, blank tissue from the packet after pulling it out of his bag and pushing it to his purple, scaly lips, feeling a tickly sensation prickling his reptilian gullet as if a feather is moving up and down against his throat. "Well… I'm not the one who's cou Before he could finish off his sentence, a bout of deep, rough coughs interfered with his talking while he doubled up. They were wracking his body as he continuously coughed into his tissue until he eventually coughed up thick, gooey sputum and spat it into his handkerchief. He is coughing so badly as if he is suffering from another coughing fit. "…coughing right now." He managed to rasp out, bringing his sentence to an end in a weak, croaky voice. "Aww, crud. All of that talking is making me cough." The more he carried on speaking, the more he coughed violently.

Smokey took the opportunity to rub his cold-stricken colleague's purple, scaly back up and down to soothe and console him as he lowered his voice until it is hardly a whisper. "Calm down, Spyro."

"I can't stop coughing." Spyro faintly frowned, spoken in a breathy, cracking voice; which is all he managed to let out of his miniature mouth after coughing very intensely.

"Just drink the tea Elora made, then your coughing will be gone before you know it."

Agreeing to Smokey's compassionate advice, Spyro carefully opened the lid of the thermos in a clockwise motion with one of his miniature claws and took a taste from his thermos after removing the cup from the top, allowing the warm tea mixed with tea slowly descend down his throat until it reached his stomach and light yellow underbelly, relieving him from his coughs. His red-coloured tongue smacked his lips, savouring the delicious and sweet taste. He gulped down a few times, intending to get rid of the irritating tickles in his lungs and soothing them. Once he's done, he placed the cup over the top of the thermos and turned it in a counter clockwise motion to close the container securely. Just when he thought he had a moment of peace to himself, he is met with a pair of angry, hazel-coloured eyes from his employer, staring at him.

"If you would kindly please cease the unpleasant sound effects, young man. It would not do any good to us and the citizens here." Stanley scowled in the purple, dragon teen's direction, clearly aggravated by his employee's continuous coughing which broken his concentration of listening to Gildas on the stage.

Feeling obligated to stick up for the ailing, 14-year-old teenage dragon; Daniel glowered heatedly at his strict, unkind employer, outraged with the way his boss is treating his trainee. "Stanley, don't be so harsh on him. Spyro's sick, that's why he's coughing." He persisted in meeting his employer's glare as if they were engaged in a heated staring contest. "Don't give me that look, I'm just looking out for the well-being of my student. You should be too, after all he's one of your employees."

"Yeah, just chillax. How'd you like it if Spyro is annoyed at you if you were suffering the same way as he did?" Smokey agreed, joining in with his coach and sticking up for his sick friend and fellow worker. Even though it's risky for him to squabble with his boss, he knew it isn't right for his chum to be treated unfairly. Recalling their previous conversation, he addressed his question to his ill co-worker; resuming their discussion to a certain part before his colleague unfortunately succumbed to a bout of bothersome coughing earlier. "So, who's coughing if it's not you?

"Only a few dragon hatchlings got sick. I'm not sure if they're the same ones I caught this nasty cold from. Hopefully, it won't become an epidemic." Spyro nodded his head to Nestor, Roxy, Brian and Hank that were positioned at the very back row, indicating whom he is referring to.

It didn't take long to let the words register in Smokey's mind. His sky blue-coloured eyes instantaneously grew gargantuan to the similar size of dinner plates as his colleague's assumption hit him as if he realised something just now. Of course, the words didn't physically and literally strike him. "No way! That's how you've fallen ill in the first place?"

"Yeah. If I weren't stuck with babysitting, I wouldn't be feeling rundown like this and coughing this awfully."

Having a thirst for a glass of water, not to mention taking a breather as well as lubricate and soothing irritated tissues of his throat, Spyro got up to his feet and started heading in the direction of the buffet table. It isn't until Smokey's teen voice intervenes with his journey to it, causing him to stop dead in his tracks.

"Where are you going? Our speech doesn't start 'til later!" He cried out, becoming curious and wondering why his co-worker is departing from his designated spot all of a sudden. Sure, he is fond of his colleague's company but he didn't like the idea of him missing out on their public statement if it eventually comes to their turn to mount up to the stage.

"I'm getting a glass of water. I'll be back soon." Spyro turned his attention to his worried workmate with a sickly frown arched across his lips in an upside down position, his voice is replaced by one of croakiness due to not intaking water for more than a while, thus causing it to sound throatily.


Due to the sharp, throbbing pains piercing his legs, limbs and every muscle in his body which impeded his progress a tad bit, Spyro had no choice but walk to the refreshments table at his own pace. It's like as if his body parts didn't want to cooperate with him. No matter how many times he tried to ignore the unbearable pains, they seem to keep returning and impede his progress. Seeing as his vision is as clear as day due to the fact dragons have the capability of seeing in the dark, he is able to take in his surroundings without any trouble at all.

Since the table is just across the beach, it isn't that hard to miss seeing as the white colour stands out from all the pitch-black darkness of the night. He would have sprinted to the table but unfortunately; he couldn't even if he wanted to. The sooner he retrieves a glass of water, the less he needs to worry about his symptoms ruining the rest of the night. All he has to do is try to take it easy and walk to his destination step-by-step without any worries daunting on him. Thankfully, he eventually arrived at the table with minutes to spare.

Since he is short, he is unable to obtain a transparent glass, let alone anything he can get his claws on. He tried as he might to stand up in an upright position on his two legs, causing him to tower over the buffet table. Careful as he is, he leaned over and gripped the empty glass in his mouth that he caught a glimpse of from the far back of the table. Once that is done, he gently settled his glass down in front of him before letting it go and proceed to shifting himself over to where the transparent blue bottle of water is located. Making use of his miniature maw, he grabbed the top half of the bottle before making his way back to his unfilled glass. As soon as he returns to his previous spot, he slowly tips it over, allowing the cool, thirst-quenching water to cascade into his glass until it fills to the top before situating the bottle on the table next to his glass. He decided to leave the bottle beside him, in case he desires a refill.

He tilted the glass to his pint-sized jaws whilst gripping it in one of his claws, letting the top of the glass touch his purple, reptilian lips whilst the water falls into his mouth like a never-ending waterfall descending to the bottom of a enormously, vast body of pristine water from above. He took several sips, in case his gross, painful-sounding coughs ensue which seemed like the umpteenth time. Each time he swallows the water, it gradually decreases. There's nothing like a glass of icy, refreshing water to calm his nerves and his coughing, not to mention soothing his raw, uncomfortably sore throat.

Just when he thought he had a moment of peace to himself, he turned to the sound of approaching hoovesteps that sounded like, "clop, clop, clop", and a silhouette drawing near him. The more the silhouette comes within reach of him with every step, the more it becomes larger. He had no trouble of distinguishing who the person is, however he initially assumed to be Elora. In reality, the figure turns out to be none other than Sheila the Faun, the former talisman holder from Fracture Hills.

"Hey, Mr. Cutie." She greeted in a seductive, almost calming voice, casually walking towards the cold-stricken, teenage lifeguard and protector, attempting to flirt with him.

"Hi." Spyro simply said, turning his attention to the blue-coloured faun. A feeble smile slowly crept across his reptilian lips whilst he sniffed nasally. The way he uttered the word, "hi", is more like in a throaty or short of breath kind of way as if his sickness has actually sapped him of his strength or depleted his energy. Grasping the realisation that the female faun isn't remained seated in her chair just like the other members of the audience, he directed his question to her. "Shouldn't you stay in your seat?

"I'm returning to my chair later, I'm just getting a bite to eat. How about you?

"I came here to get a glass of wa Just when Spyro is going to finish the rest of his sentence, a dry, hacking cough attack ensued. Succumbing to his mild illness, he pushed a hygienic, flimsy hankie to his reptilian lips, coughing harshly into it to prevent his revolting germs from spreading and infecting Sheila as he coughed in short, dry and spasmodic bursts as his terrible, hacking coughs wracked his chest and body. When his coughing decreased to a small amount until they quietened completely for now, he regained his composure and started again in a low, gravelly voice. "I came here to get a glass of water." As he said this, he lifted one of the transparent glasses from the refreshments table before tilting the glass of water into his mouth whilst gripping the glass in one of his claws, the watery liquid falling gradually into it and swallowed the cool, refreshing water.

Still feeling a bit shaken and disturbed, in reaction to hearing the young lifeguard's painful-sounding coughs as they blared insufferably through her ears, Sheila fiddled with her blue-coloured, feminine fingers awkwardly in front of him. Not only is being around him is making her feel uncomfortable due to developing a teeny bit of a crush on him, but so is his dreadful coughing. "Something's strange is going on here. All I can hear is coughing sounds coming from all over the place on the beach; they're much louder than the speech that's happening on the stage. Do you know anything about this?"

Not liking where this conversation is going, the pubescent, purple dragon shot a piercing, infuriated glare at the Fracture Hills faun. "Look, I don't wanna ta He rubbed the bottom of his nose with a single, white talon, an irritating tickle irritating his sinuses. "Atishoo!" He turned to the opposite direction of the female creature and jerked his body forward as a powerful torrent of fire and a great deal of perfectly gross snot expelled from his snout, thus reducing the tissue to a mound of smouldering ash. He regained his self-control, swivelled around and returned to speaking in an unfeeling, angered tone. "…talk about it. If you don't have anything important to say to me, I'll see you later."

As quick as he closed the conversation, he brushed by her as he stormed off in bad-temperedness, stomping on the sandy surface of the ground as he goes. She felt as if a blazing ball of fire whizzed by her, she could probably feel the unforgiving heat giving off from his excessive anger. Whatever she must have said might have angered him to an immense extent.

What the heck is this guy's problem? Boys can be so temperamental sometimes. She thought to herself, beginning to regret something she uttered in the adolescent lifeguard's presence but at the same time, she disliked his rotten attitude one bit and how uncharacteristic he acted.

He may have treated her unfairly but that didn't stop her from enjoying the party. He may have been acting out of character but there are days where things don't go exactly his way. The coughing, the sneezing… something tells her that there's more his odd behaviour than meets the eye. Shrugging off her thoughts, she began to browse through the various foods that were laid on the table right in front of her and to choose from.


After being dissed by the pubertal, reptilian lifeguard and consuming her chosen snack, Sheila stomped along the darkened ground due to the nearly jet-black darkness of the night, balling her hands into clenched fists before she promptly sat in her chair the instant she located it, which is reserved for her and joined with her faun friends.

"That lifeguard's being a tad weird tonight. He didn't need to be such a grouch." Sheila the Faun crossed her arms and grumbled, infuriated with the cold-stricken lifeguard's attitude towards her. It's not like I provoked him on purpose. She seethed through her teeth in frustration, failing to understand how she could have caused him to flare up in enragement.

Still expecting the lifeguards to act like how she assumed, Spinner the Faun is left perplexed of why her friend is suddenly being negative about either of the teenage, male lifeguards. "Like, whatever do you mean?

"That hunk of a lifeguard's being a bit hard-hearted but I think he's, like, hiding something from me. Quite frankly, he isn't doing a good job at trying to be secretive.

"Ain't all lifeguards like that?" Krista asked, confused of what the former talisman holder informed her. She never thought of the lifeguards being the opposite of what she initially assumed.

Intrigued of what the young, male lifeguard appeared to be, Spinner asked the ex-talisman bearer a question, eagerly to get to know him more. "What did he look like?"

As Sheila placed a hand to her chin whilst rubbing it in a contemplating manner, she begins to give a description of the little lifeguard from memory to her pals as well as listing of what makes up his traits and appearance. From the way she described him, he seemed to look uncannily like the fearless protector of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds. "It's hard to see in the dark but all I can make out is he's small, purple, handsome and he has petite wings and horns. Plus, he seems to be, like, wearing red, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and he appears to be familiar despite the hoarseness in his voice. He kinda reminds me of that dragon-boy I've seen from our realm."

Now, it's Lila's turn to speculate. She knew that sunglasses are appropriate to wear during the day time during the extreme, humid heat of the summer or at tropical beaches or resorts so out of all the times in the world, why would a lifeguard wear a pair of shades at night? "But it's night time. Why in Avalar would he be wearing sunglasses?

Since the fauns were so caught up in their gossip, they hardly heard the sound of little pawsteps approaching them and barely noticed Spyro standing behind them. To get their attention, he immediately cleared his throat and raised his shallow, croaky voice above the hubbub without straining it. "Ahem! Can you girls keep the noise down?

At the sound of his soft, rasping voice, each of the fauns spun their heads around to face one of the local lifeguards, who's apparently not in the best of moods, because of his ailment as he glowered at them in a stern, unfriendly manner, appalled at their behaviour and disruption.

Being aware that she and her friends might be in trouble and on the verge of being punished, Lila the Faun began to stutter and falter in her words in a reasonably quiet tone of voice and in dread, afraid of what might happen to her and her chums. She realised that when it comes to defending the beach, keeping the peace and enforcing the rules, lifeguards are like authority figures. "S-sorry, M-Mr. Lifeguard, sir.

"Just what do you gi Spyro stopped in mid-sentence whilst he felt an uncomfortable sensation tickling his nose, it's bad enough it's putting pressure on his sinuses. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to pull out a handkerchief from his bag to cover his fiery sneeze. He turned his head aside to avoid sneezing out fire and roasting the fauns in the process whilst he jerked his head backward, intaking air and preparing to sneeze. "Atishoo!" He rocked forward, forcing out a powerful burst of yellow, orange and red flames that made up of the hot colours of his dragon fire and a great deal of perfectly revolting snot from his snout. He sniffled nasally while he regained his composure, recovering from the unexpected expulsion. "Just what do you girls think you are doing? You should know better than to talk in the middle of someone else's speech!

"Bless you. But I thought we're allowed to, sir."

Although Spyro is short, he feels as if he towers over anyone whenever he has to enforce the rules or dispense disciplinary action to rule-breakers. The more his voice intensifies by the second with every word, the more his throat ended up becoming sore and the more he starts to lose his voice with each word spills out of his miniature mouth. "That doesn't mean you can get away with speaking when a speech is in session!" He never thought he had it within him to be authoritive, let alone being strict.

"We-we're ve-very so-sorry, m-mister." Krista tried to apologise but ended up stammering instead, cowering in the angered, purple reptile's presence. Even though she and her female friends were sitting comfortably in their seats, the ailing, reptilian creature sort of stood as the same height as them.

Spyro's stern face softened as he calmed himself down, letting his teeny, reddish-brown wings flopped at both sides of his back and haunches. It is like there are two sides of him: the first minute he is taking his part-time job seriously and the next minute he is kind-hearted, determined and heroic, alongside his usual cocky and overconfident personality. "Sorry I ha Before he had a chance to apologise, a bout of deep, barky coughs suddenly interfered with his speaking as he coughed disgustingly and discordantly into his left, purple-scaled claw. Unfortunately for him, his coughs sounded even more sickening than last time, the more he coughed. The moment his coughing decreased to a minimum until they utterly quietened down, he instantaneously cleared his throat and collected himself before taking up his sentence again. "…had to be strict to you girls but I had to do my job and enforce the rules here."

Despite the fact how the headstrong, courageous hero and lifeguard treated her and her buddies earlier, Krista the Faun felt sympathetic for him. "Are you okay? Are you, like, ill or something?" She arched one of her eyebrows at the purple protector, suspecting that he's unwell after hearing and watching him coughing persistently.

Behind his sunglasses, the ailing, purple dragon rolled his bloodshot, watery and puffy eyes at Krista, dismissing her sympathy and assuring her that he'll be fine in spite of his continual coughing. "I'll be all right. Why do we have to ruin tonight over something as trivial as a cough?"

No matter how hard the poorly protagonist tried to keep up with the charade, Spinner the Faun seen through his story and presumed that he's feeling under the weather at the moment. She knew that coughing is normally one of the primary symptoms of any illness. "I think there's, like, more to it than just your coughing.

"I'm not sick." Spyro lied in a disagreeing manner, attempting to conceal the truth about his severe cold from the fauns of Fracture Hills. His voice returned to an authoritive tone, resuming to take his part-time job seriously. "I'll let this slide but if the volume doesn't go down again, I'll have no choice but to either call reinforcements or ki Unfortunately, a hacking cough attack inconveniently ensued as a series of painful-sounding, hacking coughs wracked his whole body as he coughed roughly and harshly into his right, purple claw. He coughed so hard; he had to shut his eyes tightly to keep back the excruciating pain that harmed his awfully sore lungs and fire-breathing glands to an extremely enormous extent. The harder he coughed, the more disturbing his coughs sounded. The instant his dreadful coughing dwindled, he managed to regain his composure even as he opened his eyes and removed his claw from his reptilian lips and picked up from where he left off. "…kick you girls out. Do I make myself clear?

"Yes, sir." Lila, Spinner, Sheila and Krista swiftly answered in unison, not wasting any time to reply to the angered lifeguard as if they understood the consequences if they violate the rules after he scolded them.

"Good. 'Cause I'm not in the mood today." Spyro bitterly said, glaring sternly at the fauns. He immediately frowned, feeling an irritating sensation prickling inside of him that caused him the urge to cough. Just when he thought his coughing stopped, he moved a clenched claw to his reptilian lips and a few hacking coughs were expelled from them and his dreadfully sore lungs. In comparison to the previous cough attack, they were a bit quieter than last time. However, he closed his eyes tightly to keep back the sharp, excruciating pain that wracked his frame and light yellow-coloured chest. By the time he stopped coughing, he opened his eyes before collecting himself and clearing his throat, in order to remove an excess amount of phlegm that were building up in his lungs. "I'll be keeping my eye on the four of you." Before he departed, he rummaged through his bag for a packet of tissues and pulled it out. Once he did that, he dragged a white, delicate tissue and using the remaining strength within him, he blew his nose. He walked off; sniffling inaudibly and nasally due to the mucus congestion clogged up in his snout and nostrils, with every step he makes.

"See I told you he is grumpy." Sheila crossed her arms over her chest and grunted in a peeved manner, starting off the conversation regarding the seemingly mysterious lifeguard.

Now admitting that their local lifeguard is acting uncharacteristic, Lila proceeded to make a remark on how he behaved towards her and her chums. "Sheesh, some lifeguard he is. It's not necessary for him to yell in our faces like that, it's not like we deserved this kind of treatment.

Unlike her two friends, Krista brought up with a question, suspecting that the dragon hero might have been feeling under the weather the whole time, causing him to take his frustration out on her and her buddies due to his stress level. "Do ya think whatever sickness he has that's ailed him is what got him in a bad mood?

"Nobody is implying that he's got the sniffles." Spinner shook her head, disbelieving her pals' speculations. She knew it is unnecessary to jump to conclusions, in case their theories turned out incorrectly.

"Let's keep down the noise. We don't want that lifeguard punishing us again, plus a one-way ticket out of here, do we?" Sheila reduced the level of her voice as her way of proving her point until it is at an acceptable silent level as if she is whispering. She didn't want to give him a negative impression for the third time that sullied their reputations as natives of their realm.

"The coughing, the sneezing, the sniffling… Something is definitely up but he's not, like, telling us what is wrong with him. It's on the tip of my tongue but the second I see him, I swear he looks familiar." Krista rubbed her chin in thought, contemplating on why the stalwart, adventurous lifeguard is behaving bizarrely and listing only some of the common symptoms. She feels as if all of them or the aspects all point in one direction that ultimately leads to a conclusion or answer.

Little do she and her mates know that all will be revealed and her questions will be finally answered later on, on the stage.


After dealing with the chatty fauns from Fracture Hills, Spyro travelled back to his respective chair on foot, sniffling repeatedly in a nasally manner as he goes. When the grey, winged reptile heard his cold-stricken colleague's little footsteps and his soft, snivelling sounds, he shifted his stubby legs backwards straight away, thus allowing him to walk pass him and settle down in his seat.

Noticing that he is more hot-tempered than usual, Smokey scooted over beside him but not too near him to prevent himself from catching the purple, reptilian youth's nasty cold.

"What's the matter, Spyro? You look as if someone just rubbed you the wrong way or you've woken up on the wrong side of the bed." He tips his head to the left, gazing intently into the stubborn, but sick, dragon's glassy, drowsy eyes in an inquisitive fashion.

"A group of fauns are suspecting that I'm poorly." Spyro frowned, slouching down his weary haunches whilst his tiny, ruddy-brown wings flopped down and rested on both sides of his petite body, emphasising his anxiety on the current situation.

"Can't you tell everyone the truth? I can understand you've been meaning to keep this a secret but confessing the truth will save you enough hassle."

The minute Smokey formed those words from his mouth; Spyro shot a downright, unforgiving stare at him, feeling an uninviting chill of trepidation overtaking him. Somehow, those words have affronted him and possessed the wrong effect. "I can't do that! There's no telling what will happen if the whole population finds out! My reputation will be in jeopardy!" His sudden outburst caused a few, random heads of the populace spinning to look in his direction, the kind of attention he never intentionally desired. When his temper has slightly toned down, they resumed to mixing and socialising with different walks of life or listening to the host of the fiesta, forgetting that incident never occurred.

As if he had the capability of seeing in the future or predicting the consequences of the purple protagonist's actions, the grey-coloured, thirteen-year-old dragon shook his head while making a contradiction which is referring to the hero's minor illness, stating in a matter-of-fact type of tone. "But you can't keep up with this charade any longer. Everyone's bound to know sooner or later.

"On the plus side, they haven't figured out my identity yet."

Before their conversation could carry on, Gildas' voice boomed through the speakers and reverberated vociferously throughout the seaside for everyone to hear. "And now, we're going to hear a few words and wisdom from our lifeguards. Spyro, Smokey, can you two ascend the stage please?"

At hearing those words from the blue-coloured, adult dragon, Spyro cringed as he felt the colour of his scaly body going even paler than it already has been from dread. "Oh, crud."

He felt his uneasiness taking over him until a grey-scaled claw is unexpectedly placed on one of his haunches, which caused him to turn around, facing his colleague.

"Don't be nervous, Spyro. Everything will go in our favour, you'll see." A reassuring smile is curved across Smokey's reptilian lips, trying to brighten up his co-worker's spirits.

Spyro gulped as his little, reddish-brown wings kept flapping on their own, a sign of his tenseness. He feels like there is no way out of his predicament. Either he'll take part in the speech with his colleague and risk revealing his secrets to everybody or not making any public statements, thus taking the risk of losing his part-time occupation. "It's not that I'm anxious, it's just everybody will start wondering why I'm suddenly a part-time lifeguard instead of being a hero. What's even worse is they'll realise that I'm unwell."

Unaware of the celebrity hero's current situation, Daniel lifted up an adult-sized card as an example, complete with colourful text in large letters and puts it on his lap. The letters were in a reasonable, gigantic size so his students were able to see from afar or up close. Thankfully, all the letters were able to fit on to one card. The rest of the cards were apparently laid in a slanted position, near his legs. "Don't worry, boys. If both of you are stuck and in need of help, I'll be holding up some cue cards or signs so you boys won't forget what to say."

"But wouldn't that be distracting us? People might think that you've gone cuckoo to use them. You could have given us a head's up or some kind of warning about doing a speech." Smokey lifted his right, grey-coloured scaly eyebrow, giving his lifeguard teacher some sort of expression as if he is telling him, 'are you serious?'.

"I would have but with all the work I'm completely swamped with, I'm unable to inform you about making a speech." The aqua-scaled, elder dragon explained, enlightening his apprentices with the reason of why he never notified them relating to making proclamations in the first place. "You boys aren't the only ones occupied with paperwork.

"You should have let us know about it during training." Spyro concurred in a gruff and gravelly voice, assenting with his colleague as he crossed his arms over his light yellow chest… or rather his stumpy legs since he didn't have any.

"Now, up you two go. We don't want to keep the whole audience waiting because of our petty argument, do we?" Daniel nodded his head upwards, as if he is telling his trainees to climb up the flight of steps.

Before either Spyro or Smokey could continue to run their mouths, their coach rose to his huge, hefty feet from his seat and gently pushed them, escorting them to the entry of the stage using his grownup-sized, bulky claws.

"Good luck and remember what you've learned." He reminded, providing his students with vital and fundamental advice. His light blue eyes locked on to the poorly, purple protagonist, offering him encouragement as well as conversing in a wise, but ethical, manner like a proper instructor should. "And Spyro… be sure not to let your sickness take hold of you, even in times of stress or suffering.

Spyro raised a scaly eyebrow at him in a baffled manner as if his blank, bemused expression is telling him questions such as, "Huh?" or "In English?". Judging by his expression, he clearly had a tricky time trying to decipher the meaning of the message his instructor provided him.

"You know what I mean." Daniel swiftly said, without explaining his message any further into detail and complicated words that his trainee couldn't comprehend.

This wise advice is just what the purple protagonist required to boost up his self-assurance. If only he could try to keep that in mind in the future. Before he had any second thoughts, he scaled up the stairs with his colleague close behind. Once they are on the stage, witnessing that many people can be overwhelming especially if it is their first time.

They caught the microphone in their sights before walking up to it. There are absolutely no words to describe what it is like to be up there on the stage, it is like being in another world or something along those lines. Before Spyro grasped the microphone in his claws after advancing towards it, he adjusted the height of it so it matches his own. When he finished fiddling with it so it is the correct height, he cleared his throat, in order to loosen the mucus that has been clogging up his lungs.

"We're glad to be he—"

Before he could finish his sentence, an enormous bout of painful-sounding, hacking coughs was expelled abruptly from his fiery lungs that wracked his small, but short, body as he coughed roughly and harshly into his right, purple claw. He squeezed his eyes shut firmly with the intention of keeping back the unendurable pain that pierced through his chest and tormented him drastically. They became even noisier, dissonant and extremely bad with each cough that were sent forth from his lungs.

They are dry, painful coughs with a harsh, unpleasant sounds, they sound so disturbing, they brought unsettling chills to everyone's spines and they felt ill at ease while they exchanged a glance to one another, becoming concerned for their cold-stricken, new lifeguard and protector. They never expected the undisputed, almighty hero of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds falling ill with the common cold, even if it's severe. Spyro's nasty hacking coughs sound incredibly discordant and discomforting that it's enough to make anyone lose their appetites.

A collective assortment of dialogue occurred from a variety of random inhabitants from each realm and world of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds which make up each member of the audience such as"Is he all right?", "Is that really Spyro on the stage?", "Did he came down with a cold, the flu or some kind of disease?", "Why is he coughing like that?", "His coughing sounds beyond disturbing.", "If Spyro's sick, who's going to defend us and maintain balance? We're doomed!" and "Doomed, I tell you! Doomed!". Telling by their tone of voices, they were tremendously concerned for their ailing defender and lifeguard.

"Are you all right?" Smokey slowly, but cautiously, took a couple of steps towards his cold-stricken colleague, who is still afflicted with his mild illness.

Only a few more horrific, hacking coughs wracked Spyro's little frame whilst he coughed into his small, purple-scaled claw before he regained his composure. Even though he has a small stature, he is capable of coughing painfully. "I couldn't been better, Smokey." He lied, sniffling nasally and eyeing his co-worker with a weak, half-hearted smile in an attempt to reassure him.

"Should I take your place for a while?"

"I can handle this. It's just a co Before Spyro could complete his sentence, he doubled up with a series of heavy, mucus coughs that lingered on as long as the burning itchiness and the tickles remained in his lungs. Since he didn't have time to fumble for a paper tissue, he continued to cough into his claws. "…cold." He ended his statement as he looked up to Smokey with sickly, baggy eyes and a frail, reassuring smile.

"Spyro, it's not worth it to carry on at the moment in the current state you're in. You're obviously too sick to do the speech with me. I think you should get a glass of water, take a break for a while and wait until you stopped coughing before you think you're ready to ascend the stage, I'm sure Daniel and Stanley will understand."

Before Spyro could open his mouth to protest or retort back, Smokey gently pushed him towards the stairs. However, the plucky, purple protector is too weak and in poor health to protest or complain any further so he and his colleague descended the short staircase. By the time they reached the bottom, they went their separate ways.

"Do you mind if Spyro's gonna take five?" Smokey asked, addressing his question to the tall, blue-coloured dragon, relating to the sickly saviour.

"I don't mind. Did he come down with something? He keeps coughing terribly on end." Gildas queried, concerned for the purple lifeguard's wellbeing and health. The last thing he needed is out of all the dragons in the Dragon Realms, Spyro has to be the unfortunate guy to have contracted with an illness, especially on a Friday night.

"H-He's n-not si-sick. H-He h-has a t-ton of tickles in his throat which lingered on and caused him to cough like that, yeah that's it." Smokey stumbled on his words, trying to convince Gildas that his partner hasn't fallen prey to an illness, lying on his behalf.

His lie almost succeeded, that is until Spyro padded over, looking slightly refreshed after gulping down a glass of thirst-quenching, cool water he acquired from the buffet table to soothe his raw, tingling throat and quietening his unbearably, awful coughs. His moist, scaly lips indicated that he went to the refreshments table not too long ago.

"Hey, Gildas. What's going on?" He wondered in a lethargic, but sociable, tone of voice, as if as a wave of sleepiness has washed over him. Unfortunately, his voice is still tainted with hoarseness and constantly cracked with each word that flowed out of his miniature maw.

"Ah, Spyro. I've been told that you're in good health, even though your disturbing coughs is throwing all of the citizens and everybody else off balance." Gildas acknowledged, his expression changed from an amiable look to one of repulsion, commenting on the arrogant, but ailing, reptilian redeemer's sickening coughs.

"You… don't…say." Spyro said between unpleasant hacking coughs, pressing a handkerchief to his purple, scaly lips. One by one, they were wracking his frame to an exceedingly massive extent as he shut his eyes, suppressing the excruciating pain that pierced through his burning lungs and chest. Unfortunately, trying to cover up his illness in front of one of the dragon elders is difficult but denying that he's poorly is making things worse, especially his coughing. "I'm… sure… it's just… a… figment… of… your… imagination.

Appalled that the purple protagonist is telling fibs to him, Gildas scolded him but in a stern, but considerate, manner. "Spyro, don't lie to me. I know you're not yourself; it's evidentially in your voice and the fact that you're succumbing to your sickness. However, if you keep at it with your coughs, the population of the Dragon Realms will bound to know that you're unwell." Unfortunately, his compassionate words never got through to the celebrity hero, due to him suffering from a hacking cough attack that is afflicting and tormenting him acutely.

Still suffering from his bout of horrendous, hacking coughs that were released one after the other from his lungs and reptilian lips; Spyro kept coughing painfully into his sputum-stained tissue. Once they eventually quietened down, he opened his ill, weary eyes and regained his composure. "You're not gonna tell, are you?"

"I suppose I'll keep your secret quiet but only so the forces of evil doesn't take advantage of your sickly state."

"Thanks. That means a lot, Gildas."

"Before you return to the stage, I believe you must calm everyone down. Your terrible coughing has undoubtedly left them unsettled."

"I'll try my best."

After a well-earned break, the lifeguard duo made a decision to resume their speech. The purple dragon is the first one to ascend the flight of stairs, followed by his co-worker. He clings onto the black, slanted railing of the short staircase that travels all the way to the top of the stage with his white, tiny talons, having difficulty with remaining still as his surroundings spun and his vision blurred slightly. With a claw on his forehead, he is determined to prevent himself from collapsing on to the solid, but smooth, pale brown floor or feeling dizzy.

"Spyro, are you okay? No offense, but you don't look so good. Do you need help bringing you up the steps?" Smokey's voice became indistinct and inaudible, his eyes making contact with Spyro's purple, but sickly, eyes as the 13-year-old, grey-scaled teen's face become obscured when the dragon hero's eyesight become distorted to the point his colleague's face is unrecognisable and tricky to distinguish.

All Smokey received, as an answer is an icy, hostile glare from Spyro, scorching fire burning vibrantly within his non-drowsy, ill eyes as if someone actually stoked up the flames and ignited them. Still mulishly refusing support from his work mate, he retorted in the unfriendliness way possible, regardless of the light-headedness he suffered from a moment ago. "I don't NEED your help. I can climb up the stairs by myself." His shallow, croaky voice indicated the purple, adolescent lifeguard that he has had it with the frequent sympathy and help requests he's been bombarded with.

But his body language, aching haunches and stubby legs and a sharp, throbbing pain piercing through his teeny, reddish-brown wings told him otherwise. With each step he makes towards the top, he paused every now and then to avoid himself from being overwhelmed with a wave of wooziness wash over him by clutching on to his forehead and holding the banister with the other. Several moments later, he eventually reached the stage, followed by Smokey. Still feeling woozy as if he is on the verge of collapsing on the smooth, sturdy surface of the stage, he walks unsteadily to the centre of it where a microphone is located.

Unfortunately, his horrible, painful-sounding coughs from earlier must have caused a heap of turmoil breaking out between the population, due to losing their nerves about their cold-stricken hero and lifeguard over the fact they're dreading that he'll be laid up in bed and powerless to defend the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds if evil arises.

"Everybody, be quiet!" Spyro attempted to raise his voice above the disorderly hubbub without straining it but to no avail so he resorts to drastic measures. He placed his whistle inside his mouth and blew on it as hard as he could to reduce the commotion coming from the denizens. One blow of his whistle has completely silenced the whole population of the Dragon Realms and the vacationing visitors from Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds. He shakily gripped the microphone in one of his purple claws, as he spoke up. "Now, that I've got your attention. I'm sorry about what happened earlier and we'll make up the time we wasted. Also, I apologise that I'm not feeling quite like myself before." An apologetic frown is plastered all over his scaly face, referring to his severe cold and his coughing as well as feeling guilty that he made everyone panicking frantically. "Anyway as I were saying, we're glad to be here on stage tonight. It's such an honour to do this presentation in front of al Unluckily, he is disrupted by a small number of productive coughs as he coughed into his purple-hued, right claw. They were described as coughs with expectoration of material from the bronchi, not to mention they sounded wet, but revolting, all at once. After he recovered from his repugnant coughs, he cleared his throat to loosen up the mucus that is increasing and cluttering up in his lungs. "Excuse me. I'll start again; it's such an honour to do this presentation in front of all of you. In case you haven't noticed, we're newly-recruited lifeguards so don't even think about judging us 'cause we're new."

Spyro took a small number of steps back, allowing Smokey to press forward to the microphone before gripping it in his claws. "I'll carry on from where my partner left off. We're always here so you can count on us to protect and defend this beach and all of you to the best of our abilities but we tend to take turns during shifts. In case you're wondering, we're on patrol until the end of the party in case there are injuries, problems or any intruders intending on sneaking in uninvited, even though our job is actually over for the day."

Upon hearing what his co-worker mentioned, it daunt on Spyro. He dwelled on the possibility of his past enemies returning with a vengeance but he dared not to assume the worst. It's not like Shorty, Gnasty Gnorc or the Sorceress are gonna return from beyond the grave and seek revenge on me by sneaking in. C'mon Spyro, you're being paranoid. Just don't let this cold get to you. He shook his purple-tinted, scaly head, dismissing the thought of this sinister, but foreboding, event occurring. Just the thought of it makes him shudder with distraught.

Whenever he and Smokey take in turns to carry out the declaration, they use their mouths to form the words as they read the colourful words that were printed on the colossal, rectangular cards their instructor held over his head, which earned a series of raising eyebrows and facepalms from the spectators as well as a disgruntled glare from Stanley. It doesn't matter whether Daniel is helping or embarrassing himself as long as he is assisting his students in the best way he could. If the words cannot fit or it is the end of a paragraph, he constantly flips over the cards as in putting one on top of another.

"We may be young but we're tougher and perhaps, stricter, than we look. As long as you abide to our rules, we won't be strict on you and everything's hunky-dory." Smokey carried on with the proclamation, unwittingly uttered a slang word he isn't supposed to say.

Upon hearing this word, Spyro leaned towards his partner's head and promptly whispered to him in the quietest voice possible. "I don't think you're supposed to say that, Smokey."

"Why can't I?"

"Well… wouldn't Stanley be furious with you for saying something either of us aren't allowed to say? For one thing, it's informal."

"Take a chill pill, Spyro. What he doesn't know won't hurt 'im.

In spite of the off-topic conversation, Smokey managed to get the public statement back on track, moving on to explain about his and his co-worker's part-time occupation and the guidelines of the shore. "But that's not all, we have zero tolerance for any rule-breakers. We'll give you a warning but if you violate the rules for the second time, we won't be hesitant to boot you out of Dragon Shores. I'm sorry but that's how things roll with us. If you have any queries or problems, it wouldn't hurt for you to come to us immediately for assistance.

Spyro walked forward, taking his position at the microphone after a brief break. His teensy, white talons clinging to the unbreakable, smooth floor of the stage beneath his feet. "Does anybody have any questions?"

"Pardon me, sir. I have a question I'd like to enlighten you with." Snappy the Seal lifted up his long, blue fin, signifying he has a question to address to the renowned, fearless reptile of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you ill?

"Now, whatever makes you say that I'm not well?"

"From what I've seen, you were coughing a lot on the stage earlier.

"Even though I'm coughing before, doesn't mean that I'm sick." Spyro lied, his stubbornness is evident in his voice. This proves that he still doesn't admit that he's unwell. The more he tries to conceal his secret, concerning his sickness, the more it's revealed to the population and the visitors. He averted his face from his microphone and a few horrific, hacking coughs ejected from his lungs and mouth as he tried to muffle his painful coughs with one of his pint-sized claws to ensure nobody realises that he's feeling under the weather. Try as he might to hinder the uncomfortable pressure on his reptilian gullet but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stifle his coughing entirely. When his harsh coughing subsided in a couple of seconds, he regained his breath and composure before facing the front to the spectators. "What? I can't cough when I'm not poorly?"

"I think there is more to it than that."

"I'll be okay. I'm not fretting over something that's unimportant and neither should you." Spyro shot an unfriendly, bad-tempered glare at the seal from Seashell Shore, clearly had enough with the frequent sympathy he has been bombarded with throughout the day and the previous days. With every word that expelled from his pint-sized mouth, his anger intensifies as a plume of black smoke billowed out of his nostrils and he seethed through his jagged, draconic teeth.

Using his maw to form his words, Smokey reduced the volume of his voice with the intention of calming his colleague down, in an endeavour to whittle down his grouchiness to a minimum. "Relax, Spyro. This isn't the good time to lose your temper and it isn't gonna make your illness any better." Continuing from where his colleague left off, the thirteen-year-old, grey reptile stepped forward, substituting him for a while. "Anyway, does anybody else have any questions that's not relating to my colleague?" He forwarded his question to the members of the audience, trying to change the subject. "Yes?" The instant he caught a glimpse of a human-like hand being raised up, he directed his question to one of the faun civilians of Magma Cone.

"If I wanted to request a song, how do I do it?" Loonie the Faun passed on his question to the thirteen-year-old, grey-scaled teenager, communicating in his usual Scottish accent.

"Erm… we don't know exactly, I think Gildas knows more about it. Any more questions?"

This earned a chorus of crickets and an awkward cough from Spyro, who coughed into his front, left claw. This is a traditionally way of being a sign of no response from the audience. Considering the fact that is night time, it would make sense why there are cricket sounds reverberated off the cliff and bounced off the sea. The audience are speechless due to running out of questions, not speechless because of astonishment.

"O-kay… I'll take it as a no then." Smokey blinked in uneasiness, disturbed by the complete silence he received from everyone as he remained still in his position. Dismissing the uncomforting quietness, he cleared his throat before concluding the declaration. "That's all from us. If you have any more questions, you'll know where to find us.

"And there you go, give a round of applause for our lifeguards! Let's make some noise for our boys, everyone!" Gildas reached out his blue, colossal claws in the young lifeguards' direction, indicating whom he is referring to.

All they received in response is a shower of hooting and hollering, not to mention whistling and a prolonged, standing ovation from each member of the spectators.

"Hey, that sort of rhymes the way he said it." Smokey chuckled, making a remark on the fact that the words, 'noise' and 'boys' rhyme well together as if he deliberately used them on purpose. "Is he talking about us?

"Well, duh! Whom else would he be referring to?" Spyro giggled, finding the statement humorous. Unfortunately, his light-hearted sniggering lasted for a brief duration when it eventually is replaced with a bout of productive coughs as he coughed into one of his purple, petite claws. As his gross-sounding, clammy coughs extended for a seemingly long period of time, he shut his eyes strongly in order to withhold the pounding pain that wracked his small, short frame. Once his coughing dwindled down to a complete stop, he opened his eyes and composed himself. "Maybe I shouldn't be laughing." He added underneath his breath in a short of breath kind of manner, beginning to have second thoughts. If he didn't break into laughter, he wouldn't have suffered from any of the symptoms in the first place.

"Look on the bright side, at least you're enjoying yourself a little.

The dragon hero laid a claw on his chest, grimacing from the piercing pain his terrible, repulsive coughs caused. The commotion from the local populace, outsiders and vacationing visitors is excessively noisy that it rendered their chat out of earshot and vague, thus causing it to be unheard. As quick as the speech, continuous clapping and hyper cheering is concluded, they descended the set of steps leading to the bottom and off the stage.

Waiting for them patiently is their lifeguard teacher. Apparently, he quit hoisting a bunch of large, white cards above his head, in order to provide guidance to his trainees and chose to congratulate them on their progress. Guessing by his broad, wide grin arched across his lips, he is satisfied of what they accomplished so far starting from their training session leading up to the public speech and making themselves as well as the whole lifeguard squad proud. By what he witnessed, they failed to disappoint him, their employer and the audience.

"How is it?" Smokey enquired, urging his coach to come out with his overall verdict of the entire public speech.

All Spyro and Smokey received are enthusiastic, voluble clapping from their instructor. It seems that he has listened well and carefully to his students while they executed their proclamation with no trouble at all, despite the fact most of it has been hindered by Spyro's sickness due to his coughing and sneezing. "Very well done, boys! I couldn't have been any more proud! It's like as if you two lads were lifeguards all your life!"

"All in a day's work." The purple protector replied in his usual cocky attitude, flashing a toothy, appreciative smirk in his instructor's direction. In fact, it is most likely his real, self-satisfied smile. He normally lacked the capability of smiling since the day he first fallen sick with a horrible cold.

"Thanks, teach. That means so much to us." Smokey expressed his thanks, a broadened smile curled across his lips and addressing his coach as, 'teach', for the first time as a nickname, which is obviously short for the word, 'teacher'.

Getting to the matter at hand and recalling how much the purple hero has been afflicted by his severe cold, Daniel fixed his eyes on him compassionately. He knew he has to do something before the purple protagonist's illness worsens until it renders him utterly immobilized and in a weak position to fight off his sickness, let alone his formidable foes if they discovered what happened to him. "Spyro, may I have a word with you?"

Spyro, on the other hand, seems to be preoccupied with his thoughts and discharged two dry, hacking coughs from his reptilian lips and lungs that wracked his little, stunted body and yellow chest, coughing harshly into his claws, in short and repeated spasms. They didn't sound awfully painful in comparison to the previous cough attacks that greatly tormented him. Once his coughs subsided, he cleared his throat before composing himself. "Sure. What is the matter?" He tilted his head in confusion, wondering why his coach suddenly had the desire to speak with him.

Daniel dragged out a long, purple roll-shaped packaging of lozenges seemingly from nowhere out of his compassion and lends it to Spyro, who used his tail to wrap it around it as his way of receiving things before carefully depositing it into his bag for safekeeping. It is in blackcurrant flavour, which sort of matches with the colour of his scales. More importantly, it contained ten mentholated cough drops that consisted of the vital ingredients such as Vitamin C, menthol and eucalyptus. "I'm beginning to worry about you, you've been coughing badly to a large extent since our induction. So, here is a cough drop to stop your coughing. Better yet, have the whole packet but whatever you do, don't eat all of them at once. Consume two minimum every day, they should be helpful for your recovery."

Curious to know where his coach bought them, the purple protagonist directed his question at him whilst he snivelled nasally, but weakly, after what seemed like the umpteenth time. He sniffed so many times since the day he first came down with a nasty cold, it's actually not easy to keep track. "Thanks but where did you find the time to buy them? You didn't purchase them from Moneybags, did you?"

"Heavens, no! I bought them from a local chemist, which is a few miles away from Dragon Shores. Whatever gave you that idea, Spyro?"

"Moneybags tends to rip anyone off, every time he comes into contact with them."

"Wow… rumours have indeed spread so quickly."

"What rumours?"

"Haven't you heard? There have been rumours going around about a bear with a bag of gems ripping off anyone he encounters. In fact, I've heard just recently he tried to con Marco the Balloonist out of his money."

"Speaking of Moneybags, he attempted to fleece one of my friends out of her gems until I stopped him just in time."

"Did you distribute disciplinary action to rule breakers like him, like I taught you and Smokey during the training session?"

"I sure did! He is asking for it anyway."

"But don't go overboard. Not everyone needs to be punished. Only distribute punishment to those that are disobeying the rules."

"Got it." Spyro nodded his head, indicating his understanding of the advice his trainer offered him.

"For now, try to take it easy. You still haven't gotten over your illness yet." The aqua-scaled instructor promptly settled one of his adult-sized, substantial claws on the purple protagonist's rough, scaly back, allowing his claw to rub up and down in a rhythmic, repetitive manner as if he is truly caressing it.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Smokey gazed upwards at his teacher, feeling a sympathetic emotion casting over him.

"He'll be fine. He isn't a hero for nothing if he's a pushover for a cold." Daniel met his concerned student's sky blue-coloured eyes, fixing his pallid blue eyes down on him. He is fully aware that the draconic defender will never let the symptoms of his affliction get him down, even if it goes from bad to worse.

"I sure hope none of his enemies will take his sickness as an opening to world domination. If this happens, we're in deep doo-doo."

Spyro rolled his non-drowsy, sickly eyes sarcastically, believing this conversation is starting to become negative and the fact they are gossiping amongst themselves about him. "That's baloney! You guys are speaking as if I'm not in the same place as you two. There's no way I'm gon Unluckily, the irritating tickles in his throat soon developed into a bout of horrendous, hacking coughs which wracked his small, short body while he coughed in short, dry and spasmodic bursts. He closed his eyes securely to suppress the agonizing pain as he continuously coughed into his claws. His coughing became more disturbing, louder and worsened with each passing second. His painful-sounding coughs extended for brief length of time; to the point where they slowed down to a total stop. "…gonna let that happen. They're gonna think twice before wrecking havoc in the Dragon Realms, Avalar, Forgotten Worlds or here." He finished his sentence in a kind of a breathless manner after he opened his half-asleep eyes and regained his composure; feeling like his dreadful cold has deprived him of his inner strength and dragon flame.

"Let's return to our seats, Stanley might be wondering where we've been." Daniel nodded his head over to the first row of chairs that isn't that far from the stage, point towards to where they are heading. Without he and his apprentices, their employer is the only dragon who is occupying the row by himself.

And so, Spyro, Smokey and their kind-hearted coach hiked back to their unoccupied seats on foot. Considering that they are dragons, flying or gliding would save them the time but they preferred not to draw unwanted attention to them. By the time they returned and sat in their respective seats, they've already missed the rest of Gildas' explanation and rambles except his last two sentences.

"…And it gives me great pleasure that I declare the karaoke and beach party to be officially commenced! So, let's party until the wee hours of the morning!" Gildas declared for everybody to hear, stretching out his immensely outsized, blue claws and extensive, robust arms simultaneously as if he is trying his hardest to proclaim something major important.

In response, there is an explosion of whooping, bellowing and exhilarated screaming from all shapes, sizes, widths and heights from each native from every realm of the Dragon Realms, Avalar and the Forgotten Worlds. It seems that they can't wait to get the party in full swing. Even the partying fauns from Magma Cone used their opportunity to throw their pointy party hats in the air as an act of celebration. They caught their hats momentarily in their hands just before they landed on the ground before them and placed them back on their heads.

"This is gonna be one heck of a party, you betcha!" Smokey covered his hidden ears with his pint-sized, grey-coloured claws, in order to mute out the noise coming from the raving audience and exclaimed at the top of his voice over the thunderous hubbub.

Spyro simply nodded in response to his workmate's overly excited comment, forcing a crestfallen, frail smile. The pain he suffered from his ailment may have ruined most of his day but this is going to be the start of a party to remember for years and perhaps generations to come. Not even his sickness can deprive him from his happiness. Trying to maintain a smile, he attempts to make the most of the shindig but unbeknownst to him, he is unaware of the dangers that lie ahead of him in the future.


Unfortunately to you readers and reviewers, I'll be taking a break from writing old-school Spyro stories and returning to my Mario fanfiction roots for the first time in years. It appears I've sort of regained my motivation. But if you're a Mario fan as well as a classic Spyro fan, then you'll be looking forward to what I have in store hopefully in the future.

The difficult parts of this chapter would be trying to come up with the layout and structure of the stage and describing it in detail upon detail, thinking up of a title for this chapter and describing what the cough drops looks like. If you're familiar with the Eurovision Song Contests, you'll know where the inspiration for the stage came from.

Anyway, I am so sorry to keep all of you waiting since the 5th chapter. You thought I've given up on this story, huh? I haven't actually. In fact, I was working very hard on this chapter while trying to juggle with the stuff, events and incidents that occurred in my life.

As you can tell, the karaoke shindig will officially start in the upcoming chapters straight after this one. Actually, the karaoke party is an obvious reference to the karaoke sessions at college and the Eurovision Song Contests (which happens every year but every contest is different). Taking part in those karaoke events are for raising money for popular charities such as Comic Relief (otherwise known as Red Nose Day) and Children In Need.

If you want to request a song, include the name of the song you've picked as well as and your chosen characters in your review. You also have to mention whether they perform either by themselves, as a duet or as a group. However, I must warn you. Not every request will be accepted, it depends on if they meet my requirements or criteria. Whatever you do don't choose a song, a band and singer (e.g. Lady GaGa and the Pussycat Dolls) I loathe with a burning passion or don't know, they will result in an automatic rejection.

So, review away but please no flames and negative comments. We'll try to remove them if we see them. SoraLover1994 and I appreciate constructive criticism as long as it helps us improve our writing and grammar.