Ch. 4 Wonder what you're thinking right now?…

Spyro and Cynder took the lead, walking Terrador to Cynder's room which was across the main pathway outside and up a stairway, three doors down the hall. While they were walking, Spyro sneaked a glance at Cynder ,who looked back. Spyro whipped his head around and stared ahead. He'd seen murder in Cynder's eyes.

They had reached Cynder's room and allowed Terrador in ahead of them. Terrador stared at the walls, ceiling, and her floor. "What were your exact movements before the portal appeared?"

"Well, the only movements I made was to get up and try to comfort Spyro."

"Any particular movements?" he grumbled impatiently.

"Uh, I took a step riiiight…" she brushed her paw against the stone until she found the familiar spot. "Right here."

"Hmm," mused Terrador. He patted the spot Cynder had indicated. The only thing they saw of the map was a bluish-green spark in the center of the room.

"It must still be recharging," he explained. "For now, I don't want you guys worrying about it. But don't touch it. Cynder, I'll go get a few of the moles to help you move rooms. Your new room will be to the right of Spyro's."

She nodded. Sparx, who had caught up, gulped nervously.

***

After getting settled in to her new room, which was bigger and more comfy than her old one, Cynder trotted down the main hallway to the dining area.

"Maybe I'll get to eat some of last night's roasted duck, if I'm lucky," she thought, and her mouth watered.

At the table, Cynder spotted Spyro talking to one of the youngster moles, Bettia. Her father had died during the attack the Dark Master led to Warfang. Her mother was as stern as ever, but Bettia knew it was out of her love for her. The talk was of Satyr, whom Cynder had left at the nursery yesterday. Not liking to eavesdrop, she tried to ignore them, but the talk of her orphaned dragon chick made her listen in.

"Yeah," answered Bettia to Spyro's question. "I saw him in the nursery earlier and he's unnaturally grown! Like a two year old instead of the newborn he was yesterday."

"And you're sure about this?"

"Of course I am."

"Well, I'll see to it later," said Spyro, trying to calm down the now fretful young mole.

"Humph, well, we'll see who gets to Satyr first." thought Cynder, and an involuntary snarl raised in her throat.

She kept her eye on Spyro and sat three spots down, across from him. Smelling her scent, Spyro turned and smiled at her. His smile soon faded to a troubled frown. The roasted duck was served, a leg for Cynder, a duck breast for Spyro. He caught her drift.

He playfully sneered at her ,"Hoping you'll get to Satyr first, eh?"

Her reply, a low growl, was anything but playful ,"Just hoping I'll get to kick your ass on the way there!"

"Worried you can't eat fast enough, Dark Majesty?" replied Spyro, his voice hot, his temper flaring.

"Nah, I don't eat like a pig, you big flat-faced butt sniffer!" She roared. She'd just came up with that one. Spyro bent his head down and began tearing at his roast, taking big gulps. Cynder scarfed down her meal, looking at Spyro then and now to see how much he had left. Almost done, and she had but half of her food left.

"No worries," thought Cynder. "I have a trick up my sleeve…although I don't wear clothing."

Spyro finished first. He got up, picked up his plate in his teeth and dashed to the kitchen to drop off his plate. He passed by Cynder, now picking up her plate.

"See ya, Cynder!" he shouted as he passed by. She hissed like a crocodile, loud, piercing and menacing. Spyro laughed to himself, ignoring the instinctive pulse to run for his life instead of towards Satyr. Spyro charged down the hallway, jumping over the other moles and took a left turn. The hallway was empty and it was a straight shot to the nursery, across from him. He hurried forwards, unaware of the black smoke coming up under the ground.

All of a sudden a black streak shot out of the stone, narrowly missing him. Cynder, in front of Spyro now, shot out a wall of black fire. It remained there, preventing Spyro from going further.

"Cynder," growled Spyro. "Stop this nonsense! I just want to see Satyr!"

"Pleeease," she sneered and flicked out her tongue.

"Cynder, when I get outta here, I'm gonna teach you not to mess with me!"

"Well, until then, you can kiss my rump!" And with that, she turned around, mockingly waggled her butt at him, and darted off. Cynder made it to the end of the hallway and knocked on the wooden door. Spyro, on the other hand, couldn't get to the other side.

"I'm not gonna let her see him first," he whispered to himself. Gathering up all of his courage, he leaped through the wall of black fire. His top half was covered in soot, but he couldn't care less. Just as the door opened, both of the dragons went in at the same time, squishing each other in the frame.

"Ow! Spyro! Get away!"

"Can't move!" he hissed.

"Can't BREATHE!" she shot back.

A mole from behind gave them each a good push and they popped right out.

Cynder was the first one up so she gave her wings a little flap and padded forwards to Satyr's nest. It was made out of soft, springy moss and there was a pillow under his little head. And yes, he did look bigger. Already his horns were growing out and his wings broadening, the membrane thicker, built for flight. His features were more muscular and he had sharper points instead of those soft, rounded edges he should have still had. Bettia's calculations were correct. Satyr had the frame and body of a two year old.

"Oh, the ancestors." breathed Cynder.

"What? What is it?" asked Spyro, coming up from behind her to stand by her side.

Cynder heard his sharp intake of breath and she nodded in an understanding way.

"We've got a problem, Spyro."