Korrow had not stopped moving since the previous night, propelled onward by his feeling of betrayal and disgrace. It all made him sick to his stomach. The young cheetah still envisioned Hunter's knife, pointed at him menacingly, telling him to run. Telling him that he hated him. That everything was his fault.

But was it?

Ruminating on this question only caused him to become discomforted and confused. He could not imagine that it was his fault, but the more he thought about it, the more he began to believe Hunter was right. He stole his bow and arrows, he wasted a lot of Hunter's time, and he kept him from warning his village of the impending doom that would befall them. A teardrop formed in his eye, but he successfully repressed it. How had it come to this?

The air pressure dropped around him, both of his ears popping simultaneously. Moisture in the air stuck to his fur, creating sweat on the tip of his snout as the environment grew sticky around him. He entered the tree line, jumping at the sound of a loud boom behind him. Peeking through the leaves of the trees behind him, he was greeted with a black sky that pulsated with electricity. He swore, and said aloud to himself, "That does not look good."

Seeking shelter, Korrow dodged through the woods, grimacing as his leg brushed into a thornbush. He didn't bother with picking them out, not wanting to be caught outside in a storm of this magnitude. Another flash of lightning made Korrow brace himself for another roll of thunder, desperately looking for a place he could use for shelter. When he found nothing, he took off, instinctively ducking down as a thunderclap slammed against his eardrums. Within the span of several seconds, the wind began to pick up. Stout trees bowed to the might of the oncoming storm, one gust flipping Korrow's hood up and over his head as he ran.

There was nowhere to go…

Whirling his head around in a desperate search for shelter, he sensed his futility against the storm's wrath growing. If he couldn't find some cover, he would be in grave danger. Heart thumping wildly, he kept up his search.

By some miraculous stroke of luck, he spotted a rocky outcrop not too far away. Smiling with momentary relief, he made a beeline toward it, wincing as the wind lashed at him with the ferocity of a wild animal. There was hardly any time to spare as Korrow made it to the rocks, finding one that lay across another like a tent. Hiding underneath it, he settled himself in, knees hugged to his chest in order to fit into the cramped space. The young cheetah waited patiently until the rain and hail began, bouncing off of the mammoth stones above.

…

The light had stopped shining on the Dragon City, blocked by clouds that had once again rolled in, showing a grayish tint. Spyro's wings drooped, disenchanted with the prospect of more rain.

"Looks like another storm is coming." He mumbled to Cynder as they walked on the marble path. Looking at the sky, she sighed, nodding her head in agreement.

"What a shame. I was getting used to the sunshine." Her eyes wandered, observing the clouds. The wind started to pick up, blowing the clouds in their direction and swirling leaves over their heads. She picked up the pace slightly, leaving Spyro behind. His eyes roved to her tail for a second, but he exercised self-control and looked straight ahead. Thankfully, the redness in his cheeks went unnoticed.

They made a turn around a large building, a pair of moles nodding their heads at them in a friendly greeting. Returning the gesture, the two dragons smiled widely. It was a pleasure to be so well treated by the city.

After all, we do kind of deserve it, thought Spyro with a grin. As he smiled, Cynder looked over her shoulder at that moment, seeing Spyro's facial expression. She raised one eyebrow inquisitively.

"What are you smiling at?" She laughed. Embarrassed, Spyro shifted his eyes back and forth, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

"Nothing… I was just thinking of something, is all." His tail flinched nervously as she gave him a playful staredown. With a quick motion, she whirled around, making a step toward him. Slightly taken aback, he retreated, furrowing his brow with surprise.

"Thinking? What are you thinking about, hmm?" She pecked him on the tip of the snout, her emerald eyes connected to his. Playing along with her, Spyro hid a smile. He skipped off to the right, bumping into Cynder's side. Not expecting this move, she lost her balance, falling over. She pushed herself up nimbly, giggling as Spyro took off down the road, his face beaming at her expense.

"Very funny, Spyro!" The black dragoness set off in pursuit, keeping her sights glued on the purple dragon in front of her.

Soon, it became apparent that Spyro's heavier frame was not built for speed like Cynder's, and the dragoness gained on him, the tip of his tail touching her face. Spyro gasped, giving his best shot to stay ahead, but only managing to gain a few feet before she closed in on him again. As he looked back, Spyro realized that Cynder was right there on his right side, ready to pounce. Urging himself onto greater efforts, he concentrated on the ground directly in front of him. Strangely, Cynder began to slow down, flagging behind. When he saw this, an instinct told him to look up, and when he did, he saw a fountain only four running steps away.

Reacting with as much speed as he could muster, he halted his forward motion, tensing every muscle in his body as he slid on all fours. It only took a second for him to realize that it would not be enough to stop himself in time. With a last reflex, he hopped up, he pushed up off the ground with his hind legs, clearing the wall of the big fountain and comically falling into the water on the other side.

He soon resurfaced, splashing water all around the edge of the fountain. Slapping his forepaws onto the marble edge of the fountain, he pulled himself up, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. Cynder's mirthful laugh reached his ears, and he looked in her direction.

She was in a sitting position, watching him with amusement as water dripped off of his snout and onto the smooth marble below. Her giggle taunted Spyro, who looked back at her with a tired smile.

"How's the water?" Cynder arose from her sitting position, walking in a semicircle around the fountain, her face glowing. Spyro discreetly move his left paw back into the water with a smirk. Cynder noticed this, and stopped, the smile disappearing.

"Find out for yourself!" He punctuated the last syllable with a jolt of his arm, splashing water all over Cynder. She flinched, bringing her arm up to shield her face from the water. Eyes closed tightly, Cynder felt the water shower her jet black scales. Her lips parted into an "O", looking at the mischievous Spyro with a look of mock horror.

"Spyro!" She chided jokingly. This time, it was Spyro's turn to laugh as he gracefully hopped out of the fountain, profuse amounts of water running down his scales and creating a distinct spattering sound as they hit the marble stone of the courtyard.

"Sorry, couldn't help it, Cyn," he chuckled, wilting under her icy glare. The purple dragon walked over to an open spot, and shook himself dry from head to tail, drawing the attention of onlookers. Their curiosity at the strange scene was apparent, and it made both Spyro and Cynder uncomfortable. Spyro, still soaked, cocked his head in the opposite direction of the bystanders, a gesture for them to move away. She silently nodded her head, staying at his side as they walked away, leaving the observers behind to wonder just what the dragon couple had been doing. When they were out of sight, Cynder punched him softly on the shoulder.

"That's for splashing me with water," she stated matter-of-factly. Glancing to his side, he paused, and then hastily licked her cheek. Cynder's eyes widened with the welcome surprise, and Spyro chortled.

"Sorry, Cyn," he replied foxily. Unexpectedly, after hesitating for a minute, she responded by affectionately rubbing his neck with the side of her face. Liking the gesture, he leaned in, enjoying her company. Sadly, their moment together was interrupted as someone spoke behind them.

"So, how are you two lovebirds doing on this…not so fine day?"

Both dragons immediately recognized the voice and stopped walking simultaneously. Before they could turn to see who it was, they heard a buzzing sound, followed by a quick blur. Spyro shook his head at the interloper.

"You always come at the worst times, you know that?"

Sparx crossed his arms over his tiny chest, hovering in midair with his proportionally large wings. He responded nonchalantly, "No, I didn't know that. My bad." He cleared his throat before adding with a forced tone of friendliness, "I can see that things have been going well between you two."

Even though many years had gone by, the dragonfly's mild dislike for Cynder still remained, and it showed whenever he was around her. Cynder had gotten used to this, and had come accustomed to casually ignoring his jabs. Knowing this was the case, Spyro decided to mess with Sparx a bit by nuzzling Cynder with the tip of his snout, making her shut her eyes with relaxation. The dragonfly's smile faded somewhat as Spyro addressed him again.

"Yes, it has been going well. We've really gotten to know each other over the last year," he affirmed with another rub. "How have things been going with you?"

Sparx had an answer ready, his eyes rolling to the back of his head with annoyance. "I'll tell you what, it's been as boring as watching grass grow 'round here. I haven't been able to do much of anything, except for wander around the city." He flied in close to Spyro's face, irritability clear in his tone as he uttered dramatically, "…and did I also mention that I've memorized practically every inch of this place? I'm serious. You want me to give you the grand tour? Because, you know, I could do it…"

"No thank you, Sparx," Spyro declined, to Sparx's disappointment. "I am sorry to hear that you've been having such a terrible time, though."

Sparx couldn't tell if Spyro was teasing him or not, and the purple dragon's serious face gave nothing away. The dragonfly sulked.

"Yeah, thanks to you being with…her." He pointed at her with his left hand in a disapproving gesture. After he said this, Cynder exhaled deeply. Every time Sparx talked about her, he never said her name. However, the impersonal "her" he had just used was certainly better than the usual "it" and "thing" with which he used to refer to her only a year ago.

At least he's showing signs of improvement, Cynder thought to herself as Spyro retorted on her behalf.

"Aw, come on, Sparx. Lighten up a little! You know Cynder and I have been going steady for awhile, now. Why can't you just accept that?"

Sparx did not have an answer to this question. Zipping around Spyro's head as he and Cynder advanced forward, the dragonfly stated lamely, "I don't know. I guess it's a little fun for me."

This time it was Cynder's turn to pipe up, her eyes narrowed. "Look, Sparx… all I care is that you be civil with me. That means calling me by name. My actual name. Not 'it'. Not 'thing'. Cynder. Got it?"

Scoffing shakily, Sparx buzzed away from her, apprehensive to her gaze. "Jeez… alright, alright, no need to get so touchy."

Realizing that her intimidating stare had paid off, Cynder relaxed the muscles in her face, still keeping her two emerald eyes on Sparx. Beside her, Spyro chuckled. The purple dragon cleared his throat, "Is there any other reason you came here other than to say hi, brother?"

Sparx hesitated. It took some time for him to finally shake his head. "Nope. Just thought I'd drop by since I saw you for the first time in… has it been a week?"

Spyro tried to recall, but with no cigar. "I have no idea. I've sort of lost track of the time for the past month or so. Life's been pretty slow since the moles built our little house on the edge of the upper city. Though…" he looked over to Cynder, "at the same time, the days seem to be going by quickly."

Sparx caught the romantic eye contact between Spyro and Cynder suppressing a gag. How they could have possibly arrived at this point of their relationship, he was not entirely sure, but who was he to get in the way? Understanding that the dragons probably wanted more time to be alone, he wisely made the choice to leave them be. Sparx's wings hummed audibly as he darted away to aimlessly wander the city once again, leaving the two lovers to converse with each other. Absent of a farewell, Sparx's exit went unnoticed by Spyro until after the disgruntled dragonfly was completely lost to sight. The purple dragon didn't worry about his brother's wordless departure, and continued his conversation with Cynder. A sizeable bolt of lightning interrupted them, however, and it was followed by a colossal boom of thunder that halted them in their tracks. They exchanged looks before Cynder suggested, "…Maybe we should head back to the house, Spyro."

He concurred as the sky darkened overhead, "Yeah. I guess we'd better."

They headed back to their cozy home with a considerably faster pace than they had left it as the thunderstorm barreled toward Warfang.

…

Rain and hail pelted Hunter as he hunched over, his cowl raised and trusty longbow drawn. His paws squished into the mud as the tree line came into view, the day turned into night by the black stormclouds overhead. There was no way he could see through the trees in this rain, so he moved very meticulously and carefully, not wanting to waltz into the middle of his enemies. Despairingly, Hunter assessed that the grublins would be moving faster than him, because they had no need to hide from anyone. Even though this was most likely the case, he could not risk traveling any faster, or else he may bump straight into them.

A particularly large lightning bolt struck a tree only a short distance away, punctuated by an ear splitting crack as a shower of sparks exploded out of the trunk. It was followed by a dull thud as the tree toppled over. A knot formed in Hunter's stomach as he commenced his steady pace again. With luck, the lightning wouldn't venture any closer, but the thought distressed him.

He grimaced as an uncommonly large hailstone pinged off of his shoulder, leaving a dull pain behind. Wincing, another one struck the top of his head, and was followed by another. Pretty soon, Hunter was forced to take cover under a cluster of tree branches, lessening the onslaught significantly. Frustrated, Hunter tarried there, wishing that the horrible hail would leave him in peace and permit him to move ahead.

At least the grublins were likely to do the same thing, he reasoned. Even the most mindless of creatures would not put up with the torment of the hail for very long, and if things went well, he could catch up to them as they took shelter, wherever they were. And, not requiring the night to conceal him any longer, Hunter could sneak past them, using the storm as cover. Perhaps this bad weather was useful for something after all!

Empowered by waves of optimism, Hunter started off, the hail lessening conveniently.

…

The hail began to let up around Korrow as well, replaced with a steady, soaking rain. Korrow had lost some circulation to his legs, a tingling sensation like sand in his feet and calves. Water was penetrating the small tent like rock, dripping onto the top of his hood. He shifted uncomfortably, lightning crashing all around him. Peeking through the crack in the rocks to his left, he noticed a little stream of water running down the incline of the hill. He hoped nothing like that would get into his temporary shelter; otherwise he'd be at the mercy of the storm.

However, Korrow had no such luck, the sudden surge of rain no longer able to penetrate the already wet soil. He first felt the water soaking into his hindquarters and footpaws, and before he knew it, the runoff water had reached his waist. Hurriedly, he pulled himself out of the no longer sufficient shelter and emerged from the crevice, finding little reprieve as the heavy rain saturated him from above. Miniature streams that were not around before the storm lay scattered all around him, dribbling down the hill. Korrow decided to just keep moving through the forest and trust that the lightning would keep its distance.

Forced into the elements, Korrow traipsed down the hill gradually, taking care not to slide down the muddy incline as he ventured deeper into the forest.

…

The party of grublins, as Hunter predicted, had taken residence underneath the branches in order to avoid the relentless pounding of the hail. Discontented grunts and squeals were drowned out by the whoosh of the downpour, which had miraculously lightened up compared to what it had been. Golinod, the goblin leader that had been appointed by Desraa listened to the guttural sounds of complaint issued from his troops with tired annoyance. They had not rested at all for a long time, and even on such simple creatures, the effect was noticeable. Malcontent soon led to violence in grublins, and dissent would be hard to quell, the goblin knew. Somehow, he would have to keep them under control.

The moment the hail stopped, he ordered his troops to arise. Reluctantly, they picked up any weapons they had dropped onto the ground and stood up, each of them wet to the bone. There was one, however, that remained still, his sword clutched tightly in his hand. Golinod, spying the rebel, grunted warningly, tensing his sword hand as he approached the seated grublin. When on two feet, the grublin stood far taller than Golinod, and he appeared ready to use his superior size to challenge the goblin leader's authority. Giving the grublin one last chance to obey, Golinod waited, grunting a command for him to get up in the creature's familiar language. Looking back at the much smaller goblin, the defiant grublin clumsily stood up. However, the goblin did not let his guard down yet, a sixth sense keeping him on the alert. In an angry movement, the wayward beast made a tragic mistake by raising its axe in a threatening gesture. Taking it as a threat, Golinod had no choice but to retaliate. Before the disobedient grublin could use his axe, the goblin leader drew a wicked looking sickle from its sheath, swinging it at the creature's exposed neck.

Golinod stared at the corpse as the pool of blood poured from the stump of the grublin's neck, mingling with the puddles of rainwater that formed on the ground. Those troops that observed the brutal killing retreated back a pace, even their violent, erratic minds surprised by what had taken place. Turning around, Golinod wiped the blade of his sickle on his thigh.

"Onward," he hissed in their unintelligible language. Seeing the dead body of the headless grublin, they followed the order without the slightest hesitation. Golinod nodded with satisfaction, relieved to see that his example had been effective. Moving double speed, the boorish group advanced through the forest, leaving behind the gruesome carcass of the rebellious grublin behind.

…

The thunderous booming of the storm became more distant, and the rain poured down with a lesser intensity than before. In a way, Hunter was grateful that the storm was starting to let up, but with that came a loss of his cover. Still, anything was better than that hail pelting him.

Behind him, fleeting rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, indicating that the end of the storm was approaching. Hunter grimaced, making haste in order to take full advantage of the storm's concealing rain. He was going to need all the help he could get to find Korrow without either of them being spotted.

That understanding brought Hunter to doubt in his abilities to find Korrow. First of all, he couldn't even be sure if Korrow was still in these woods, or if he had gone the other way, back to the wreckage of his little cottage. Furthermore, there was no way to know if the grublins would spot Korrow or not, and the more he speculated, the less likely it seemed to occur. Korrow could take care of himself, after all. He'd done it for years. Surely he could avoid this ragtag bunch…

"No." Hunter shook his head, angry with himself for entertaining such a vile thought. Here he was, making excuses to abandon Korrow, to just take the easy route and leave the rest to chance. But he wouldn't do it. He didn't care if Korrow never forgave him; he was going to make sure he was safe, even if that meant his death. There was nothing else left for him to do. Hunter would lay his life on the line to help a brother, and Korrow was the only brother he had left.

His spirit filled with newfound energy, Hunter hurried along through the forest.

…

Korrow was making slow time through the woods. His descent down the hill was made challenging by the slippery mud and water that eroded away any potential footholds. Forced to use his hands to stabilize himself, he gritted his teeth as he slid down the slope.

Finally, he reached the bottom, footpaws sloshing in the puddles that formed from the runoff. Even his thick, leather cloak was soaked right through and stuck uncomfortably to his fur. Layers of mud had formed on all of his clothing, and large raindrops that were too heavy to remain on the leaves above fell onto Korrow's head. The young cheetah flagged, weary from the hard travel and lack of food, but he pressed on. Oh, how he wanted to go home, to his cottage, to be protected from this blasted rain…

Grunting in exasperation, he kicked a puddle, water noisily splashing onto a sopping wet tree trunk. The wind and rain was at least beginning to die down, but the improving conditions did little to comfort him. He growled, crying out to the sky in protest, "Damn it all! Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

It was as though the profanity laced outburst had released a demon that had taken residence inside him, sapping him of all his energy. Out of breath, he plowed into a tree trunk arms first, resting his head on the bark of the tree as tears mingled with the rainwater already present on his face. Even though he tried to be tough, it was impossible to impede the tears, forcing him to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.

Splish. Splosh.

Korrow's ear twitched sensitively as he picked up the out of place sound. Jogged out of his wallowing state, he listened carefully. Again, the noise.

Splish, splash.

It took him a second to become apprehensive to what he was hearing. His breathing hastened, and his heart felt like it had risen to his throat.

Squish, splash, splish. It was closer this time. Korrow shuffled behind the big tree he was leaning on, his limbs stiff in fear. He was not alone in these woods.

The sound of feet squelching in the mud approached the tree where he was. Korrow didn't want to peek out and risk being spotted by whatever might be out in the woods, but his curiosity got the best of him. Gripping the bark of the tree with his claws, he leaned out with his back firmly pressed against the tree.

He saw nothing. Not daring to lean out more, he stayed perfectly still, his eyes wide with fright. The distinct noise continued, but from his vantage point, he could only tell what direction it was coming from.

The thunder rumbled farther away, and the rain turned into a light shower. Sunlight broke through the gloomy black clouds, and the wind began to subside to a breeze. With every second that passed by the footsteps became more noticeable, the rain failing to mask the sounds made by the mystery figure.

And then, just as the noise of the splashing footsteps neared the tree, they stopped abruptly. Korrow's hairs stood on end. Very faintly, he could hear what sounded like something sniffling.

Smelling the air.

He held his breath, paws quivering. Remaining motionless, his jaw muscles tensed until his teeth grated painfully together. The intruder began to move again, the squelching pop of the mud audible from behind the tree.

It was only a short distance from him now, the unwelcome presence advancing methodically toward him with each step. Had he been discovered? Perhaps, but there was no way to know for sure. His heart was fit to bursting, loud enough to make Korrow fear that he might be heard. Nonetheless, he kept himself from doing something unwise out of sheer panic.

Although he had no intention of revealing himself to the unexpected visitor, curiosity once again got the best of him. Careful to make sure he made no sudden movements, he peeked around the trunk.

Sure enough, only several meters away stood a grublin, grasping a spear in both hands as it waded through the mud. It looked around, searching the surroundings as it smelled the air for its prey.

Inhaling sharply, the young cheetah pulled back right away, heart racing. If there was one grublin here, there was sure to be more lurking in these woods. He gulped. If that grublin came any closer, he knew he would have to make a run for it. A bow and arrows wouldn't do much good against a spear at this range, and attempting to unshoulder his bow now would almost certainly result in being found. It was a no win situation. All he could hope for was to not be discovered.

Now the grublin was on the other side of the tree trunk, all of its simple mental processes focused on finding its quarry. Korrow's lungs felt like they would explode, but he didn't dare breathe out. Even the slightest sound would give him away.

The grublin was on more solid ground now as he stepped on the bulging roots of the tree Korrow used for cover. Inevitably, Korrow knew he would be found. Steeling his nerves, the young cheetah used his fear as fuel for action. Veins popped out of his neck, fists clenched as he prepared himself for what he would need to do.

If Korrow moved at all, his adversary would certainly see him. Still, he waited until the spearpoint was visible from where he stood before he made his move.

Korrow charged out, teeth bared as he attacked the grublin. Startled, the creature made a sloppy thrust at Korrow with his spear but Korrow nimbly sidestepped it, using his momentum to crash into the grublin with his shoulder. The smaller creature hurtled backward, slamming into a tree. The young cheetah, losing his balance due to the ferocity of the attack, stumbled over himself and landed clumsily in the mud. The shocked grublin screamed in pain as it peeled itself off of the treetrunk, stabbing at his fallen assailant with the stubby spear it carried, but Korrow was quick, leaping up from the ground and dodging the spearpoint as it zoomed toward him. The iron tip landed in the sopping wet earth, and Korrow stomped down on the shaft of the weapon. The creature howled as it the blunt end of the spear slammed down onto his foot, and a swift elbow into the side of the creature's head caused it to collapse onto the ground. Breathing hard, Korrow plucked the spear out of the ground, and without hesitation, plunged it into the grublin's chest. Thrashing around in its final death throes, he went limp, blood flowing freely over its body.

Glad to still be alive, Korrow unshouldered his bow, having no time to rest as more unearthly screeches rang out from the depths of the forest. His blood ran cold. The scuffle had been heard, and as he predicted, there were more lurking through the trees, and they were heading straight for him.

He fled, running faster than he ever had in his life, every sound emitted by the beasts behind him driving him onto greater efforts.

The hunt was afoot, and Korrow was the prey.

…

Author's Note: I tried to sneak in as much time as I could to write this. So far, I haven't been discovered by my parents, but that could change in a second. So, if for some reason I cease to update ever again, it's because my parents found out about me writing this. Don't worry, though. Crow is a ninja. :D And if there are any spelling or grammar errors, I apologize. I kind of had to rush some of this chapter, otherwise it wouldn't have been updated until who know when.

On a random note, I'm trying to improve my writing style a bit, because to me, it's starting to get a little bland. I hope there was a noticeable difference in this chapter, but I dunno.

So, it's been awhile since we've seen our two favorite dragons in this! To be honest, they are not going to be the main focus of the first half of this story, but once things really start heating up, they'll become main characters.

And yes, I ended yet another chapter in a cliffhanger. I just can't help myself. Heh.

Please, review!