The white walls of the Dragon City glistened in the rising sun, thoroughly soaked with rainwater from the night before. Now that the storm had passed, clear skies were left in its wake, welcoming the sunrise that painted the landscape the color of honey.
General Borros walked atop the battlements, surveying the city with an observant eye. This morning, as he did every morning, the male General was going for a stroll through the city. His morning walks helped put his mind and body on the alert, and he made it a habit to waken before the sunrise every day for that purpose.
The General had become accustomed to the brilliant sunrise Warfang witnessed every day, taking it for granted. But even he couldn't help but look at the picturesque scene before him. It was truly a wonder to behold, the wild grass of the plains swaying in the steady breeze like a vast ocean of amber waves, colored by the light of the sun. The ambience of the early morning birds chirping in the thickets greeted the glorious new day, given new energy by the sun's radiance which was left unhindered by a cloudless sky.
A smile on the General's normally stern features faded, however, as his face turned from the magnificent scene to gaze at the wall ahead of him, eyes coming to rest on the wreckage of the far wall. It was such a sudden contrast that Borros found himself frowning at the ugly remains of the formerly glorious battlements. Cracked, and charred black, it was a blemish on the white marble city, surrounded on all sides by chunks of rubble and a fallen watchtower. Over a year had passed since the grublin invasion of the city, but they had left a scar on the city as a reminder to just how close they had been to succeeding.
Even though the moles spent a considerable amount of time finishing much needed repairs to the buildings and city walls, this particular section was the most heavily damaged, and was still yet to be worked on. The General frowned, furrowing his brow. Borros was naturally an over-achiever, so this was unacceptable. He would need to set a crew of workers on it as soon as possible.
As he examined the structure, he picked up a movement ahead, on the ramp closest to the ruined wall. It didn't take long to figure out who it was.
Another mole, also dressed in the familiar black plated armor that the army wore, advanced up a ramp leading to the walltop, flanked by a second mole to his left. General Borros made sure they were heading in his direction before he stopped, placing both hands behind his back and standing to attention.
One of the moles, the taller and burlier of the two, had the lead by a good meter. He halted a few paces short of the General, bringing his right hand into a salute. Borros returned the gesture, addressing the other mole.
"At ease, Captain. What do you have to report?" Borros asked with a businesslike tone. The other mole dropped his hand to his side, still standing straight as an arrow. The Captain spoke, his voice gravelly and deep.
"Sir, Mason has asked permission to begin reconstruction on the far wall," the mole Captain stated simply. Borros raised his eyebrows in an inquisitive stare.
"Mason? How did he know that I wanted work done on the east wall, I wonder," Borros replied, curious. Then, he noticed the mole Captain's stance, at attention. Just as the Captain started speaking, Borros interjected, smiling.
"No need to remain at attention, Derik. This isn't a marching drill. Please, at ease." Borros gestured to the marble stone with one hand.
Captain Derik was a serious mole, always ready for duty and seldom relaxed, but uncommon use of his first name by the General put him at ease, his legs parting slightly and his shoulders sagging. With a nod to the General, Derik continued.
"He says he knows you cannot stand it, and that he's seen you looking it over on your morning walks. Says he's put it off for too long and wants to get to work on it," said the Captain, sounding more relaxed. Again, Borros was forced to be surprised. He and Mason were very good friends, so it didn't strike him odd that Mason would know of his morning walks, but at the same time, the old mole's observant nature caught him off guard.
"How did… does he already have a team assembled?" Borros stole a glance at the partially destroyed wall, cringing. "He's going to need quite a large team to fix that mess."
Captain Derik nodded a single time. "Yessir. Mason has a group of workers in mind for the job, and he'll set them to work at your word."
The news made the General chuckle. "I suppose I owe Mason some gratitude. Tell him I appreciate his initiative, and that he's welcome to begin work on the wall."
Derik nodded again. "I'll tell him at once, sir." He saluted, waiting until Borros was finished saluting him back before turning his back to him. Strangely enough, the other mole didn't move, his eyes roving over to the field with a look of worry plastered on his face. Derik looked to the smaller mole.
"Is something wrong?" Derik's eyes flashed with stern inquiry. The mole, not shifting his gaze, pointed a stubby finger at the field below.
"Sorry, sir… It's just that there's something in the meadow, coming this way."
Suddenly interested, both the Captain and the General whipped their heads around, searching the place where the soldier was indicating with his finger.
Sure enough, a very indistinct outline of somebody approaching the city gates became clear, the shadow casted by the sun behind them increasing their noticeability. Silent, all three of them watched the unknown visitor.
Borros was the first to notice that there wasn't just one, but two of the travelers, giving the impression of one body because they were huddled together.
Even more uncanny was the one on the right, holding the other cheetah on his shoulders and limping slowly, using a staff to hold both of them up.
The General's voice was commanding, "Tell them to open the gates."
At once, the Captain obeyed, muttering a hasty "Yes sir" before scampering off, bringing the mole that had seen them in the first place along.
Borros called out after them, booming, "And send a crew out with a stretcher!"
…
Everything had lost its shape, becoming a blurry haze, a myriad of colors shrouded in mist. Korrow no longer could keep track of time or thought, his body completely numb.
The young cheetah placed one foot in front of the other, succumbing to a rhythm he had performed the entire night. He was beyond the point of rationality, driven by the fragments of his strong will and stubbornness.
When Korrow first emerged from the forest and stepped onto the plain, the city had been clearer to his eye, but as the sun rose above the horizon, all that remained of it was an amorphous white dot, formless and without definition.
Then, the young cheetah heard a voice. It echoed, a distant call that didn't seem to originate from anywhere. The sound repeated itself, over and over again.
Suddenly, four black dots grew in front of him, and the mysterious voice amplified. Head swimming, Korrow tried to raise his head to look at the four fast approaching figures.
Amid the effort of lifting his head, Korrow's eyes darkened, a shadowy black cloud growing from the peripheries of his vision. He tried to stand, to keep his balance, but it was all for naught. His legs wobbled, and all of the sounds around him dropped away.
Mercifully, Korrow passed into unconsciousness, his body crumpling to the ground, dragging Hunter down with him as he struck the dirt.
…
Borros walked briskly down one of the walkways, heading for the main gate as the mole crew returned to the city, bearing the two travelers on stretchers. His view of the entrance was blocked by the walls of many of the structures towering above him, but as he rounded a corner, the central courtyard came into view. The gate was wide open, and both of the stretchers were being carried inside by four of the moles. Borros ran down the stairs, passing the metal gateway that separated the walltop from the courtyard and striding over to where the mole crew was standing. One of them shouted to Borros as he came near.
"They're cheetahs, sir. One was already unconscious, and the other one passed out before we could ask him if he was okay."
Borros placed two fingers below each of the cheetah's necks, breathing a deep sigh of relief when his fingertips picked up the familiar pulsating sensation of life.
"What would two cheetahs be doing here, traveling with injuries like," he pointed to Korrow's leg, which was oozing blood and clear fluid, "this?"
The other mole shrugged. "I do not know, sir. Shall I take them to a doctor?"
Borros, face scrunched up with discouragement, waved the mole away and nodded his head in affirmation, "Yes, of course. At once!"
The four stretcher bearers spared no time in moving the two cheetahs out of the courtyard, jogging energetically, their metal boots clanking against the hard stone of the courtyard.
The Captain, who had been standing further away, approached the General, noticing his disgruntled facial expression and the way he stared at the ground, chin resting in the palm of his hand.
"Is it bad, sir?" The Captain stepped in, nervous. Whenever the General became disgruntled, he tended to be rather irritable, and so Derik was careful not to interrupt the General's train of thought.
Borros said nothing for a minute, appearing perplexed. Thinking he hadn't been heard, Derik repeated, voice shrinking, "Sir?"
"Hmm? Oh… Yes. Very bad," Borros mumbled, hardly paying attention. Then, out of the blue, he turned around, walking with a purpose after the stretcher bearers.
Puzzled by the abrupt exit, The Captain jogged after the General until he was side by side with him. "What is it, sir?"
The mole general didn't look back, his pace quickening. He answered, "I need to pay somebody a visit."
…
A breeze ruffled the glossy leaves of the trees, showering rainwater onto Terrador's face. The Earth Guardian blinked his eyes rapidly, shaking the rainwater off of his head. He frowned, sauntering through the gardens aimlessly.
Like everyone else, Terrador was sick of all the rain and welcomed the sunshine this fine morning, but at least the downpours had been good for tending to the gardens. The heavy deluge the night before had doused the flowers, bringing them to full bloom. Normally, in the heat of Warfang's summer, the flowers would have already begun to shrivel, but this season had been a particularly rainy one, and even in the late summer, the daffodils at the base of each tree bloomed, made shiny from the collections of water on their petals.
Nowadays, the Earth Guardian didn't tend to be very busy, and although he enjoyed the freedom to relax, so much downtime was making him a little lazy. Terrador was an old dragon, but only recently did he start accepting the limits of his age. Every year his body aged, the youthful energy he formerly possessed dissipated. Furthermore, his joints were feeling the effects of rheumatism, an aching reminder of his senility.
A pretty stone archway girdled the entrance to the gardens, barely high enough to let Terrador through. The dragon had to dip his head down and fold his gargantuan wings onto his back in order to get through. Thinking he was through, Terrador turned his body, but cringed as the spiked ball on the end of his tail collided with the archway, chipping off a piece of the stone. Terrador bit his lip, and then continued down the street, pretending nothing had happened, smiling nervously.
The street was broad, nearly empty in the early hours of the morning. Terrador's bulky frame stood out like a sore thumb on the cobblestone road, drawing the attention of the few onlookers nearby. Terrador smiled as he walked past a merchant. The mole nervously smiled back, busying himself with arranging the vegetables in front of him and shifting his focus to the menial task.
It was no secret that he, the other guardians, and Spyro and Cynder all lived here, but in a city full of moles, the dragons seemed so out of place that their presence always aroused curiosity and wonder, as well as unease. The dragon's large size was quite intimidating to the moles, which looked puny in comparison, and as a result, the occasional bystander was often driven away.
The clinking cacophony of metal clacking against stone could be heard up ahead. Terrador craned his neck, squinting and searching for the source of the sound.
An armored mole, short even by mole standards, was jogging uphill, his course set for Terrador. The Earth Guardian's scaly brow wrinkled with puzzlement. Was that…?
He called down to the mole, which waved high in the air with one arm, trying to get his attention, "Greetings, General Borros!"
The dragon stopped, the mace on the end of his tail dragging from side to side on the road. The General, when he was within earshot, hollered back to Terrador, his words carrying a message of urgency.
"There's something you need to see, Terrador." The General slowed down to a halt, pointing behind him with his thumb. Terrador went alongside the mole, asking, "What is it, General?"
The mole was not one to show much emotion, but his jittery body language and hurried gait were telltale signs that something was wrong, and this worried Terrador. Borros relayed the message with great haste.
"There are two travelers who just arrived at the city gates. Both are badly injured, and we've placed them under the care of a medic for the time being. But that's not all."
As the mole trailed off, Terrador's impatience got the better of him, and he snapped back, "What else is it? Are they in grave condition?"
The General nodded. "Indeed, one of them is, and the other is not well off, but," he paused, grimacing, "they're… they're cheetahs, sir."
Immediately, Terrador's deep voice boomed out, noticeably rising in volume and pitch as he retorted, "Cheetahs? From Avalar?"
Borros shook his head. "I'm sorry, but both were unconscious before we could ask them anything. Avalar is the closest known place to Warfang where cheetahs reside, but for now, we have no idea who they are or where they are from."
The troubling news served to quicken both of their steps, the odd pair descending down the central street leading to the main gate.
"Then take me to them," said Terrador. "I want to see these cheetahs for myself."
…
Heat radiated from his fur, a raging fever that clouded his senses and overwhelmed all other feeling in his body.
That was when Korrow realized he was awake.
His eyes shot open. Panic set in fast, and his eyes darted around him, taking in his new surroundings.
He was lying on a cot, and his head was rested on a pillow and elevated. White walls surrounded him, but before he could get a good look around, the strain of moving his eyes around brought an onslaught of dizziness, and he closed his eyes, head swimming. He opened them back up, but everything seemed to be in motion above him, swirling and turning like a wheel. He groaned loudly, chest rising and falling laboriously with each breath.
Then, something cold and wet caressed his forehead, and droplets of water began to dribble down the sides of his face. Disoriented and startled by the sensation, Korrow flailed up with his arms and cried out, but his wrists were suddenly grabbed firmly by two firm, big hands. Korrow struggled, but his hands were placed back down on the bed.
"Shhh… shh…" A voice attempted to soothe him, "Stay still, stay still. You're in good hands."
Korrow, too weak to resist any longer, calmed down, although his breathing was still irregular. The next thing the young cheetah felt was a paw sliding to the back of his head, gently lifting it up.
"Can you hear me?" A squeaky, hoarse voice piped up again, right next to his ear. Korrow opened his eyes, anxious to see who was in the room with him.
A mole, tall and skinny for his species, stood at Korrow's beside, rectangular spectacles framing the black beady eyes that were peering through the glass lenses at the injured cheetah. A shallow, metal bowl was clutched in his right hand. Korrow blinked slowly at the stranger.
The mole repeated, slower this time, "Can you hear me? Nod your head if you do."
The simple request san kin, and Korrow nodded once, barely enough to raise his head off of the pillow before resting his head back onto it. The spectacled mole nodded back, indicating he had seen it.
"Can you sit up?" The mole asked with a near whisper. Korrow, not wasting any time to reply, sat up, dizziness causing his upper body to sway from left to right. Seeing the cheetah in this state, the doctor was swift to support Korrow by placing a paw between his patient's shoulder blades. The spectacled mole brought the edge of the bowl to Korrow's cracked lips.
"I'm going to give you one sip at a time. Drink slowly. Do you understand?"
Korrow listened, then nodded again. Now that it was obvious this mole was trying to help him, he relaxed.
Smooth metal brushed against his lips, and he opened his lips slightly to let the water fall in easier. The mole titled the bowl gradually, letting the life giving liquid trickle into Korrow's mouth. As soon a miniscule amount of water dribbled in, the doctor withdrew the bowl, letting Korrow swallow.
This cycle was repeated for several minutes until the bowl was empty.
"Good, good," the mole mumbled, putting the bowl onto a little wooden table near Korrow's bed. Now that he was sitting up and the bowl was removed from his lips, he had a full view of the room around him. It was a small room, comprised of white, stone walls, barren of any decoration. A table containing an array of medical tools and containers stood beside a door at the top right corner of the room, but otherwise, the room was featureless. Once his examination of the room ended, he saw his right leg, encircled with bandages, an ugly crimson spot of blood seeping through the dressing as it wept.
The doctor was busy at the medical table, rifling through the extensive variety of containers before grabbing a pewter jug and producing a wooden spoon from the coat pocket on his chest. Korrow watched curiously as the mole dipped the spoon in to the jug and walked back over to Korrow's bedside, balancing a thick, brown liquid in the spoon over the opening in the top of the jug.
"Swallow this, m'kay?" The mole placed it in front of Korrow's face. Korrow, trusting in this strange mole not to hurt him, opened his mouth, and the doctor dumped the spoon's contents into his mouth.
It tasted so vile that Korrow gagged, trying to spit it out. But the doctor anticipated this from the start, and held Korrow's mouth closed and pinched the cheetah's snout with two fingers, forcing him to swallow to putrid medicine. Korrow shivered, shaking his head and scrunching his face up at the bitter taste.
The doctor released his hold on Korrow's lips and snout. Aggravated by the sickening taste, fell into a coughing fit, moaning loudly. The mole's voice dripped sympathy.
"I know, it's terrible, but it'll help you to fall asleep in a short time so I can do more work on your leg. You'll be alright, I promise."
Korrow heard all of this, but even so, he wasn't quite ready to forgive the mole just yet. Never in his short life did he taste something so awful.
The four legs of the stool nearby grated noisily on the marble floor as the spectacled mole pulled it up to Korrow's bedside, sitting directly across from Korrow's injured leg, eyeing it warily. A minute stretched out before the doctor spoke.
"How did you get that injury?"
No answer came from Korrow. The cheetah was lying motionless on the cot, eyes sealed shut by the medicine that was working in his system. The doctor smiled. The medicine had worked much faster than he expected it to, meaning he didn't have to wait any longer to redress his patient's wound. If the cheetah was awake for the procedure of cleaning the wound, he would need two others to restrain him, and he didn't want his patient to suffer needlessly.
Moving the stool to the side, he set himself to the task.
…...
The medical complex was several blocks away from the main gate, near the center of the city's lower level. It was a very open structure, with the familiar Warfang styled archway marking the entrance. Terrador noted, with a rueful grin, that it would be an effort to make it through the opening.
The General proceeded first, beckoning the earth guardian to follow when he hesitated slightly. Ungracefully, Terrador folded his wings back onto his back, dipping his head down underneath the stone archway, taking care not to let his horns scratch the top of the arch as he went through. Borros smirked, but it went unnoticed by Terrador, his focus solely on not destroying the entrance to the medical building.
"It may be impossible for you to see the cheetahs at the moment, sir. You might not be able to get all the way through the doorways."
The General's complexion remained austere, but the earth dragon could detect some underlying humor in his words. Terrador frowned.
"One would think that in the Dragon City, a dragon would be able to fit through the doorways without having to worry about destroying them," he retorted. Terrador's obvious irritability on the matter made Borros wary to respond. Instead, he changed the subject, moving into the bland courtyard and through to the columned entrance to the inner complex.
At the time of the war with Malefor, it had been a necessity to create a medic house in order to accommodate the innumerable wounded, but since the end of the war, the doctors conditioned to treating serious injuries on a daily basis had become almost dormant, dealing with common sicknesses and ailments rather than potentially lethal wounds. Both cheetahs were in much worse condition than most patients that were used to being seen since Malefor's defeat.
One armored mole stood to the side of one of the doorways, his chest out, chin up in the position of a stationary soldier. In on official, businesslike fashion, he saluted his superior.
"Sir," he boomed. The General waved down the soldier's arm.
"At ease, soldier."
The mole complied, hands unmoving by his side as the General addressed him. "Are the cheetahs inside the medic house?"
"Yessir! Both arrived some time ago, sir."
Borros smiled. "Do you know if they can be seen by company?"
The guard's eyes roved to Terrador's gargantuan frame, and he added with considerably less volume than before, "Only one of them is, but… I'm not sure if you will be able to make it through, sir."
Terrador's face flushed with a temperamental flare, but he kept himself under control and retorted back, looking at the door with annoyance, "That's alright."
Sensing the formidable earth guardian's disappointment, Borros began to think of an idea, biting his lip in contemplation. A moment later, he re-addressed the soldier in front of him.
"What are you doing here, soldier?" He inquired.
The soldier was nervous, but he was quick to respond, "I'm not sure, sir. I helped escort the two cheetahs to the medic house, but now I'm just standing guard here, sir."
The General noted the other mole's lack of confidence with a smirk. "In that case… I have an important task for you." He stepped forward, whispering something into the soldier's ear. The burly mole nodded obediently, saluting Borros.
"At once, sir." Without another word, he strode away, leaving the mismatched pair behind in the courtyard.
When he had left, Terrador made a quizzical frown. "Where did you send him to?"
Borros turned to face Terrador, "To the house of Spyro and Cynder. I seem to recall that they have both had experience with the Avalarians in the past?"
"Yes, they have. Are you getting them just because I can't fit through the entrance?" Terrador asked, indignant. Sagely, Borros looked to the ground and away from Terrador, letting the silence answer Terrador's question. Terrador's jaw dropped, in disbelief that something so silly was holding him back from seeing the two patients. Still, he accepted this fact, but with a grudge.
"Very well then," he muttered.
…
The cool hours of the early morning were warmed as the sun rose, all of the glorious shades of orange and red on the horizon washing away, revealing a canvass of bright blue sky beneath.
Always on schedule, the sunlight broke through the window of Spyro's quaint home, tauntingly resting on his scaly brow. He woke up, squinting when they were encountered with the blinding light. Avoiding a sudden reflex to shoot his hand up to cover his face, he rolled his head away from the offending light and looked over to Cynder. She was sleeping, motionless.
Making sure he wouldn't wake her, he slid off of the bed and soundlessly landed on the smooth marble floor, and crept around the end of the bed, staring at the ground to concentrate on not letting his talons click against the hard floor, he was about to make it through the door…
"Trying to sneak out, are you?"
Spyro cringed at the sound of Cynder's voice seeming to berate him from behind. Timid, he looked over at the bed, to see her laying on her side, eyes wide open and looking straight at him, a ghost of a smile present on her features. He sighed, returning the smile.
"You're good at that," he remarked admiringly, adding in, "I'm not going anywhere important. Just going for a walk, is all."
Cynder tossed the blanket off of her, yawning and stretching her legs off the side of the bed, "So you were just going to leave me here all by myself, hmm?"
Spyro grinned. "Yeah… I mean, you looked like you were still fast asleep, so I didn't want to wake you up."
Cynder chuckled. "Oh, please. Don't worry about me. Besides," she hopped down, "it's getting late. I need to get my lazy butt out of bed anyway." She wiped the sleep out of her eyes. Spyro laughed in agreement.
"Yeah, I think we've been getting lazier and lazier every day. Sleeping in later, walking around the city and not even knowing where we're going…"
"Well, it's not like there's been lots of interesting stuff going on lately," Cynder shrugged. "There's not that much to do around here. But," She came up beside him, kissing him on the cheek, "I kind of like it."
Spyro's purple cheeks flared red. Cynder smiled.
Then, there was a knock on the door.
Both dragons froze, not sure if they heard correctly. Puzzled, Spyro asked Cynder, "Did you hear somebody knock on the door?"
She nodded wordlessly. Spyro brushed past her, heading down the stairs.
"I wonder who that could be?" He wondered aloud. Cynder shrugged, and followed him down, also curious about who knocked on their door. They couldn't remember the last time anybody had knocked on their front door, and generally, they were left alone by the rest of the city out of a respect for privacy.
"I'll get the door," said Spyro. Cynder stayed back a ways, keeping her eye on the door as Spyro opened it.
A mole, hunched over with his hands on his knees and breathing heavily, was standing at the other side of the door. At the sight of the mighty purple dragon, the mole shot upright, trying his hardest to keep his heavy breathing under control as he choked out, "Master Spyro."
Spyro looked at the soldier with a quizzical stare. He replied, "Are you alright, soldier?"
The mole shook his head adamantly, gasping out the word "yes". This only served to indicate to Spyro that the opposite was true. Before the soldier could attempt to say anything more, Spyro said to him, sounding as friendly as he could, "Catch your breath first. I can wait, whatever it is."
At once, the mole let all the air out of his lungs, inhaling and exhaling rapidly and puffing out a "thank you" in between breaths. Spyro gave him time to get his breathing back to normal before he relayed the message, his features solemn and his voice apologetic.
"I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Master Spyro…"
…
Terrador scanned the sky, eyes coming to rest on two fast approaching figures in the distance. He called out to the General, who was pacing in front of the medic house anxiously, "I see them."
Borros stopped mid pace and looked up at the blue sky. Sure enough, the two dragons were there, dropping low in the sky and spreading their wings out in order to reduce their speed.
The familiar whoosh of flapping wings could be heard as the two young dragons slowed their descent, landing heavily on the stone courtyard with a pair of audible thud. The earth dragon took a moment to admire at how large they had grown since he had last seen them before he greeted them.
"Thank you for coming, you two. It's been quite a while, although…" He added ruefully, "I wish we could see each other under more pleasant circumstances."
Grimacing, Cynder folding her wings back against her back. "Yeah, us too. But it's good to see you anyway, Terrador."
Spyro, on the other hand, wasted no time with greetings. He asked, apprehensive, "Where are the two cheetahs that came in this morning? Did you see them, Terrador?"
The earth dragon shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have not. I would have gone to see them myself, but…" He pointed with his wing, "I can't get inside."
Cynder looked at the door, and then back at Terrador. She grinned.
"So you called us here because we could fit through the door?" She asked incredulously. Terrador, his head hung in embarrassment, nodded in affirmation. Despite the seriousness of their visit, Cynder tried to hold in a laugh.
Borros approached the two dragons, dwarfed by Terrador's hulking frame. "I'll show you to their rooms. I dearly hope you are not acquainted with them."
Spyro frowned. "Why? I mean, how bad are they hurt?"
The mole General bit his lip. "They are in pretty bad shape. One of the cheetahs might not make it."
The words lingered in the air around them. Upon hearing the troubling news, a knot formed in Spyro's stomach.
"That's not good…" his frown deepened. Borros shook his head.
"No, it isn't." He moved toward the medic house, apparently in a bit of a hurry. "It's best if we get there as soon as possible. Follow me, Master Spyro."
Spyro and Cynder, exchanging nervous glances, followed the General into the building and left Terrador behind. The earth dragon, still a bit miffed that he couldn't join them, stayed quiet.
There was just enough room for them to get through, but they had to fold their wings tight against their backs to get through. Once they were in, an oblong chamber with a domed ceiling awaited them. It was quite large, but there were no decorations or intricacies in the marble stonework whatsoever. In fact, the building looked like it had been built in a hurry. Cynder's eyes wandered around the room, seeing dozens of doors along the edge of the dome, each one of them identical in size and color.
As they walked, their footsteps echoed around the dome, especially the General's, whose metal boots created quite a racket as they clanged against the hard stone floor. But Spyro was oblivious to all noise around him. He was in another world, hardly paying any attention to his surroundings and looking at the floor directly in front of his feet.
Something was bothering him. All of this seemed so familiar, but he couldn't think of why. The more he spent time thinking about it, the more out of place his feelings seemed, but even though he tried to shake away his worries, they wouldn't leave.
"Hey, are you alright, Spyro?" Cynder asked. The purple dragon didn't look over to her, and kept staring down at the floor.
"Yeah, Cynder, I'm fine. I'm just thinking."
Curious, she leaned in a little, getting closer to him. "Thinking? About what?"
For the first time, Spyro looked up from the floor, not sure why he was feeling so odd. If he were to honestly answer Cynder, he would say he had no idea, but thankfully for him, their conversation was cut short by Borros when he said back to them, "The first cheetah is right here."
The two dragons nodded in acknowledgement, and Borros knocked on the door. A voice, quavering with senility, replied from the other side of the door, "Who is it? Is that you, Borros?"
"Yes, doc. May we come in?" He asked nicely, pressing his ear to the door.
"We? Who else is with you?"
The door opened without warning, causing Borros to hop back from it. A tall mole wearing a pale white doctor's vest and a pair of rectangular spectacles revealed himself in the doorway. Upon seeing the two dragons standing there, he stumbled backward, placing a hand over his mouth in shock.
"Oh, oh my… I, uh… I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off, flustered. Stepping off to the side, he gave a low bow, waving them into the room, "If Master Spyro and Lady Cynder need to come in, they may."
Cynder smiled warmly, and stepped in with a gracious nod of her head. "Thank you." Borros let Spyro go in after her before setting foot inside, careful not to step on the dragon's tails as he moved around to the other side of the room.
"Do you two recognize him at all?"
All three of them looked at the unconscious cheetah lying on the bed, shaking their heads as they looked at his face. Borros saw this, and stepped out of the room. "Whenever you are ready, Master Spyro, I will be out here to show you the other cheetah. But I suggest
Their eyes traveled down the length of his body until they came to rest upon a bloodied bandage on his right leg, which was oozing out the sides with clear fluid. Spyro and Cynder grimaced simultaneously. The doctor noticed their looks of disgust, and said grimly, "Aye, it is a nasty wound. Got a little bit infected, but I am treating it with a poultice that will hopefully stop the weeping."
Spyro, with fascination, stepped closer to the cheetah's leg. His mouth went dry. "How did he get that?"
The doctor shrugged. "I'm sorry. We have no idea, Master Spyro. Although, I can tell with certainty that it isn't from a weapon of any kind. The wound's edges are too jagged. But I cannot say the same for the other cheetah…"
Right away, Spyro and Cynder's eyes widened. Cynder was the first to pop the question, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Lady Cynder, that he was attacked. We found a part of an arrow lodged in his shoulder as he was being carried in, along with a host of other wounds." He hung his head sadly. "We aren't sure if he will make it."
Spyro felt a cold bead of sweat run down the side of his face. Abruptly, the purple dragon made a move for the door, calling back, "Thank you, doctor. Come on, Cynder!"
The dragoness sensed Spyro's urgency, and followed him out of the room after waving to the doctor, who was a bit surprised at their sudden departure.
"Thank you for your help!"
Following closely behind Borros, Spyro moved into a narrow hallway, branching off from the main dome. Borros was forced to move at a brisk pace, trying to stay ahead of Spyro, who was nearly pressing into Borros's back. The General reported to Spyro, "The other cheetah is in one of their surgery rooms. I am not sure if they will allow us to go inside at the moment, but I will do my best."
"Okay," Spyro snapped, his tone far from amiable. "Do what you have to do. I want to see him."
"As you wish, Master Spyro," Borros said respectfully. Cynder cantered up to them, fitting into the space between the wall and Spyro. She didn't say a word.
A curtain was draped over the entrance of the operating room to the left. Borros held up his hand in a motion for the two dragons to stay put, and peeked around the curtain.
"I have visitors here to see your patient?" He half said, half asked for permission. After a short period of silence, another mole spoke from inside the room, "Now is not the best time, General… err, as you can see…"
Borros frowned, swallowing nervously and looking away from whatever was on the other side of the curtain. Whatever was there, Spyro thought, it must not be a pretty sight. He felt a wave of fear sweep over him, and he wiped another drop of sweat off of his forehead.
"Spyro and Cynder are the ones who are requesting to see your patient, doctor. I promise that their visit will be brief." He tried again, biting his lip and looking over to Spyro, who was anxiously scraping his claws into the hard stone floor. At hearing the names of the two dragons, the mole's tone changed.
"Spyro and Cynder? Aaah… tell them they can come in. But be careful," he warned.
Spyro didn't wait; he heard the doctor, and went up to the curtain. Borros reiterated the doctor's request to be careful, quickly adding in, "He doesn't look good, Spyro."
Taking heed of the warning, Spyro threw back the curtain, and at once, looked away from the table where the cheetah lay.
He was lying on his stomach, and two other moles were operating on the cheetah's back. A small pool of blood was forming on the table from the wound, and the moles were at work with scalpels, carrying out each incision as precisely as possible. Beside the limp form of the cheetah lay a bloodied It was a grisly sight, but Spyro was able to stomach it. Cynder was close behind him, and when she saw the injury, gave a sharp intake of breath. Still, seeing the moles at work, she did not make any comment, not wanting to distract them and cause them to make a mistake. While she turned her face away, Spyro rounded the table, keeping himself far enough away to avoid disturbing the surgeons.
The cheetah's head was turned away from the two dragons, hiding his face. As Spyro made it around the table, his gaze was drawn to an object against the wall.
It was a cowl, brownish tan in color, in a wrinkled heap. Spyro's stomach did backflips. He knew that cowl…
"Master Spyro, is everything alright?" The doctor who was overseeing the operation asked.
Ignoring him, Spyro moved in a little closer, stepping to his right and getting a better look at the cheetah's face. He froze. Could it possibly be…?
It was.
"Master Spyro…?"
He remembered everything. The smoldering remains of the village, the bloodied corpses torn limb from limb, the smell of rotting flesh.
He remembered Avalar.
"Master Spyro?"
Out of nowhere, Spyro bolted for the exit. Cynder was forced to leap out of the way, crying out as Spyro sprinted past, nearly knocking her down. The purple dragon threw the curtain aside, almost bowling Borros over in the process and leaving everyone else far behind. Cynder, recovering from her shock, chased after Spyro, leaving behind her a scene of confusion.
"What are you doing? Spyro!" She screamed. Spyro's only response was to run faster, and Cynder lost sight of him as he rounded the corner, re-entering the dome. She cursed loudly.
Spyro shot across the room, running his fastest and leaving Cynder way behind him. Folding his wings onto his back and lowering his head, he aimed his run so that he went through the doorway to the medic house without getting stuck, and emerged into the courtyard.
Terrador, with a turn of his head, saw the Spyro rocket out of the medic house, and before he could manage to say anything, the purple dragon gave a powerful flap of his wings, launching himself into the air. As soon as Spyro was lost to sight, Cynder leapt through the door. Looking around frantically, she saw Terrador standing there, befuddled.
"Which way did he go?" She spat, stretching her wings out in preparation to fly. Terrador pointed northwest.
"That way… Cynder, what is going…"
She didn't hear him. In a second, she had disappeared as well, flapping her wings and propelling herself off of the ground, zooming away and leaving a confused Terrador in her wake.
…
Spyro never stopped flapping his wings, sweat pouring from his body as the hot midday sun beamed down at him. The force of the air against his face forced him to squint as he headed west, to the wide open fields of Avalar.
He flew over a vast plain, and then over a forest. Fifteen minutes went by, but Spyro didn't slow down; that is, until a small, discolored dot appeared on the horizon.
Spyro pressed both wings against his back, going into a dive and cutting through the air like a knife, heading for the dot. Soon, it grew in size to a rectangular shaped block, set beside a fast flowing river.
That's when he smelled the unmistakable sickly sweet odor of death.
"No…it cannot be…"
He descended, the smell growing even stronger as he neared the ground. The ashes which remained of the village huts became visible as black dots. Spyro sobbed.
"No…no, no!"
Bodies littered the ground, and the odor of death became too strong for him to handle. He flew over the scene of the massacre, choking out sobs, tears flowing freely from his eyes.
"No!"
He wept brokenly, overwhelmed with grief. Who could have done such a thing?
His sense of injustice fueled the fire that was brewing in his soul. In moments, sadness morphed into anger, and anger to hate. An ominous black shroud took shape around his purple scales, and his eyes glowed white. His tears were gone.
Another smattering of dots appeared beneath him in the center of the valley, moving to the west.
It was Golinod and his grublins.
All of the hate festering in his heart came out with one fell roar, and he went into a dive, howling in terrible fury. There was no warning as Spyro fell upon them, and they screeched and shrieked in terror as ripped through them with an unstoppable lust for blood.
Author's Note: Hey, y'all. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and Happy Kwanzaa to all! Did I keep you waiting long enough?
Yeah, I'm really sorry that it took me three months to update. That is just atrocious, but I didn't really have much of an opportunity to write anything until now. That, and my parents still don't know I'm on here… but whatever.
Also, is it me, or does this chapter suck eggs through a crazy straw? I mean, sure, it's long and everything, but I think this is my crappiest chapter yet. Especially the ending. *shudder*
So, uh…yeah. Till next time…
PS: I'm also thinking about changing the title to this story. Because, you know, this one kind of sucks... just so ya know...