He sighs, tail curling over his snout.
Blue eyes have turned from navy to slate, after being stuck in such a dreary place. The band is back, firmly circling his muzzle, and he has been responding to Sparx's chimes less and less.
His hope is wavering.
Spyro really is a young dragon. A child, in all reality. Maybe somewhere between an adolescent and encroaching on teenagehood, but still a child.
Things are taking their toll.
Why hasn't Delbin saved him? The Artisans were the smartest of the Dragon clans; and if not them, then why haven't the Dream Weavers with their mystical insight? The Beast Makers with their superior instincts? The Peace Keepers with their determination? The Magic Crafters with their power?
He's knows that they have not forgotten him. But. . . maybe they have taken him for dead.
Because how could they know that Spyro had left the dragonlands?
Sparx still chimes and bleats, every once in awhile. Checking to see if Spyro is okay, probably, or reassuring his own okay-ness.
But Spyro has stopped his frequent affirmations. Only giving a growl rolled over into a grunt once in awhile.
Responding takes too much energy.
His stomach grumbles unhappily. He was not made for raw meat, though he could technically digest it. And he's not being fed enough for his growth rate. He remembers the Elders chuckling over his small size, remarking, 'How does he put away so much yet grow so little?'
His muzzle twitches a brief flash of a smile at the fond memory.
It's been hard to focus on those, lately.
But Moneybags has already done his daily feeding and check; he knows the bear is busy with something, since his five visits a day have gone down to two. It'll be hours yet before what he presumes is the nighttime check.
Or the morning check. He's not really sure if Moneybags is diurnal or nocturnal, and there's no windows or indication of time passing in his cage, for that matter.
Not that it really matters; it merely means more time for himself, to remember or day dream or stretch as best as he can in his stifling cage.
There's a surge of anger and indignation, but it fizzles out just as swiftly.
He decides just to zone out. Imagine gliding and stretching his wings in the dragonlands, Sparx at his side as his Fire teacher, Ignitus, grumbles at him for skipping lessons again to chase sheep.
Marco the balloonist would wave from his planks whenever he saw Spyro during his commute amongst the lands. The other elders would either laugh or grumble as Spyro zoomed past them, grass flying up as he charged over the rolling hills. And then the portals to the worlds of his home would flash to life as he grew near, a swirling galaxy of stars that dimmed as he veered past.
But in his day dream, one stayed stubbornly in front of him. It wasn't until a creature he had never seen before came through that his surroundings melted and he was back in his prison.
Some feet in front of him and past one of the many stacks of crates, there was an old, broken portal that Moneybags had laying against the wall, with the frame cracked and leaning inwards from bent metal on the right, and some wires sticking out, had come to life.
He suddenly registers Sparx's shrill chirring.
Three beings come through in succession; something that looks like a red-furred goat, a tall creature that looks sorta like the spotted cats from the Beast Maker's swamp, and a creature he had only ever seen in the history books, a mole.
(Moles had reportedly helped the dragons back in the forgotten lands, apparently, but when the dragons left, the moles stayed, supposedly.)
They were all walking on two legs, like the Elder dragons. The younger - goat-lady and spotted-cat - glancing around warily while the older mole gazed sharply. When his eyes landed on Spyro, he gasped.
He darted forwards, the other two following. Spyro shrank back, one paw lifted, as if he could protect himself in such a state.
But the mole's eyes were filled with horror, not the sick glee that Moneybag's had. "Oh no. . ." He whispered, voice trembling. "Oh no oh no; this is horrible. Horrible indeed. Oh, Moneybags, I knew you weren't exactly a good sort but what have you done?"
Goat girl and spotted cat were right behind him, tense with fear. They must be trespassing. When they saw him, the cat seized, jaw dropping, and the goat's(?) eats fall back.
"Professor, is that. . .?"
"Yes, Elora. A dragon." The 'Professor' straightened his glasses. "We'll need to haste before Moneybag's returns. Dragon," this adressed to Spyro, meeting his eyes. It was the first gaze he had met in over a month that wasn't malicious. "Do you speak the same language as us? Or can you at least understand?"
He tried to open his muzzle, because yes, while their pronunciation was much more muffled in a sense, he understood them perfectly. But the band prevented that, so he just shook his head.
The mole nodded. "Good. We're going to get you out of here. It's wrong - no, it's detestable - that Moneybags has kept you here like this. Can we trust you to let us help you?"
Spyro paused - could he trust them? Who knew if this was some sick game of Moneybags? Or if they were thieves looking to steal the bear's 'treasure?'
His indigo eyes roved their faces. But he only saw desperation, and fear. Perhaps a little awe hidden behind it all.
The spotted cat stepped forwards.
"Hunter. . ." The Elora girl whispered.
This Hunter took no notice. "Look, dude. We can sit here and try to convince you, but who knows when blowbag will be back? You can either stay here and wait for him, or take the chance and trust us now. What do you say?"
It was a few tense, silent moments. But eventually he lowered his head in submission.
Spyro saw them slump in relief.
"Okay, Professor, keep the portal open. Elora, be ready to pull off the bands."
The Professor scurried away and Elora followed Hunter closer to the cage. It could fit both of them with a little breathing room but for Spyro it was barely comfortable to turn.
The cat unsheathed his claws and began picking at the cage lock. After some tense seconds, it popped open with a click. When he slipped inside the cage, Spyro fought to keep still. He remembered the last time Moneybags had gotten angry at him.
But the cat was careful; plus, while taller than Moneybags, he wasn't too big. Spyro's horns would probably reach his ears if he stood at his full height. So he didn't feel very threatened as the cat crawled around him, picking the locks with his claws. Elora carefully slipped the manacles and collar off, until all that was left was the band around his muzzle. With a nod, both of them worked this soft paws around it and tugged it off. They backed out of the cage warily.
When he was free, Spyro stood and stretched, a feline silkiness to his movements. He shifted his jaw, clacking his teeth, and ruffled his wings. Then, he stepped out of the cage.
His two rescuers watched him with wide, awed eyes. He was easily what could be called a 'rideable' size compared to them. But while he knew himself to be undersized for a dragon, he didn't know that to them he was bigger than they would have imagined.
"Thanks," he eventually breathed out. He puffed out some of the smoke from his lungs; weeks of build-up from not being able to properly breathe his fire. "Before we go I need to get Sparx - my brother. He's a dragonfly."
"I already have him, young dragon." The Professors creaky voice came from the portal a few feet away. Sparx hovered by him, zipping chirps and doing a flip when he saw his brother out. Glass lay to the side where the lantern had been shattered.
"I know you probably don't trust us yet. But please come with us; we can figure out things once we're free of this place."
"And leave Moneybags with a heartattack," Hunter added with a stressed laugh.
"Hunter." Elora sounded disapproving.
Spyro looked at them each in turn, then to the swirling Galaxy past them. He could refuse; leave from this strange cave and through whatever home Moneybags had above. They were giving him that option.
Or he could follow them into the unknown, where he will either be tricked by them, or have more of a chance.
Less than a minute later, Spyro ran after the other three into the portal. Once through, it sparked and broke down again, leaving the basement empty.