". . .Okay, now if you'll tilt your head up. . ."
The Professor watched as Spyro did just so, angling slightly to the right so that his scar was fully visible. The Professor was gentle, grazing the scales near the wound with a soft finger.
He sat back with a sigh. "It's as I suspected; it'll fully scar. Somehow it caught the edgeplate of the scales and ripped deep."
Spyro merely blinked at him, seemingly unconcerned. As far as the Professor could tell, Moneybags hadn't taken to physically handling or hurting the young dragon. So perhaps the news of scaring wasn't as jarring as he'd have thought.
No, the real scars he needed to worry about were the ones set deep, deep inside; the ones that kept an invisible band clamped shut around Spyro's muzzle. He had scarcely spoken over the last three days, except to murmur to his Dragonfly brother, and even then it was low and rasped. As though. . .
. . .as though he was afraid to speak.
"Well, we're all done here for the moment. I'd like to give you a full check up later, if you're okay with that. For now though, enjoy the day," the Professor informs him.
Spyro gives a shrug with his wings. "We could do the check up now," he mutters. He's honestly fine with it - Moneybags rarely touched him, except for in the beginning when he had roughly grabbed his muzzle and inspected him, like one would the quality of a gem.
But he doubted that the Professor would do such a thing.
The Professor was surprised. "If you're sure. . ." Spyro nodded, "okay then; we'll start with your height. Sit up straight, please."
And Spyro did so, head held regally like a cat, though there was none of the disdain. He was easily taller than the Professor, who was a mole, so it wasn't surprising. But, he was still fairly big compared to the others. He recalled Hunter and Elora telling him about how Spyro had commented that he was small. Just how big did dragons get?
He had Spyro stand next - his horns probably can reach up to almost the top of Hunter's head - then stretch out his wings. There was no damage, no wear and tear. They tended to arch and curl forward, and the membrane was somewhat like a bat's. Unlike a bat or bird, though, there were no finger bones - no, the wing distinctly had its own structure, as though a whole other limb, instead of as replacement forearms.
Spyro kept silent, merely complying with the Professor's instructions. He was slow to answering questions, but didn't outright ignore him.
"Hmm, well, claws, teeth, and eyes seem healthy. I don't see too much damage - maybe slight malnutrition but that's easy to remedy. Just some healthy meals."
Spyro did flinch at the mention of food, and the Professor filed that away for later.
"Okie dokie, I think we're done here. Anything else I need to know?"
Spyro started to shake his head, then stopped. He was pensive, looking at his paws, then said, "I. . .I'm a Fire dragon. I need. . .to practice my fire."
The Professor raised a brow. What could he possibly mean by that? Was he like. . .a forge, continuously burning? If so. . . "Any wheezing or trouble breathing?"
A nod.
The mole tapped his pencil to his lip. "Hmm, well I'm sure I can arrange something for you to expel any fire you need to! For now I suggest you eat some honey if you have a sore throat. And I'm sure it's fine if you breathe fire out on the shore," he waved a paw in dismissal, "now go on, young dragon - enjoy your day." He brought his notes to the table and started muttering to himself.
There was some sort of wry smile that crept onto the dragon's muzzle, but he merely nodded and slunk away.
Once he took a quick peak to confirm that the dragon was out of sight, the Professor slumped onto the table.
"Physically, he's mostly fine," he muttered to himself, "but psychologically. . .I'm not a doctor. He has an aversion to eating, probably; I've barely seen him pick at meals. He doesn't like to be stared at or talk. How do we communicate with him effectively? Make sure he eats enough? How do we help?"
As expected, the empty room responded with silence.
After a time, the Professor picked himself up. Tidying his notes on Spyro, he set them aside and pulled out his references for the Dragon World Portal.
"I guess. . .the best we can do is be there for him, while I try to contact someone who can help him."