It was the chirping of the morning songbirds that roused Elizabeth from her slumber.
Her blue eyes slowly opened to the sound, a soft moan escaping her throat as she was pulled from the realm of dreams into the waking world. She was sad to see said dreams end; they had been of happier times, when Johnathan was around, and her little family was whole once again. Part of her wished to return to them, but she couldn't; there was breakfast to make and chores to begin. The day ahead of them had started. She took a deep breath through her mouth, letting the crisp morning air fill her lungs and send the spark of life through her body. She then pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes and the dirt from her face with her paws.
…dirt?
She was suddenly very awake when she realized that she wasn't in her bed…heck, she wasn't even in her home. What was-?!
But when she opened her eyes again, she found a sight that instantly washed away her worry and filled her with a sense of fondness and wonder at the same time.
Sleeping on the ground next to her was none other than Spyro, his head resting next to her vulnerable form, and his eyes still closed in deep slumber. His long body was curved in a half-circle position, forming a protective barrier around the area where she had been sleeping. Even in slumber, his presence was a powerful one: she could hear the air whooshing down his throat and into his lungs, see his sides rise and fall at a slow, steady pace. His face still sported many tear-streaks from when he had wept the night before, the still-wet scales glistening in the early morning light.
The night before. She remembered it now.
Looking up, she saw the ceiling of the abandoned wolf's den towering high above their heads, old, dried roots hanging down from the dirt like the claws of a hawk. Looking past the dragon's head, she saw the mouth of the cave overlooking the river, the crystal-clear water sparkling in the morning sun; apart from the moisture in the air and the dew across the ground, all traces of the previous night's storm had cleared away, leaving behind the makings of a perfectly sunny day.
She blinked in surprise. She must've fallen asleep while comforting him.
Part of her wanted to chastise herself for yet another act of foolishness she had committed: rodentkin didn't dare sleep in the open, even in long-abandoned caves. She could've been found by one of the numerous nightly predators, such as a weasel or a fox, and she wouldn't have lived to see the morning…and yet, another part of her felt completely and utterly safe. That nothing bad would've happened last night regardless.
And she knew why: with Spyro around, no predator would dare set foot anywhere near the cave, let alone come up to the entrance. This land had been claimed by its new king, and there were none foolish enough to challenge him for his crown, especially over what amounted to a small mouthful of mouse.
That being said, she did feel rather silly having fallen asleep in such a place so easily. The last thing she could recall was singing to Spyro as he wept, and then it just faded into dreams.
Poor thing…he must've cried himself to sleep.
She placed a paw against his face, gently running her palm across the rough, scaly skin, feeling what felt like a layer of smooth river rocks beneath her fingers. Stirred by her touch, Spyro shifted in his sleep before giving a soft groan of disapproval, cracking open an eye to see who had disturbed his slumber. However, when he saw none other than her standing before him, smiling fondly at him, both eyes opening as he shifted his against the ground, turning it partially towards her.
"You stayed." His magical voice rumbled through the air, sounding more like a child in awe than a legendary beast of power.
Mrs. Brisby nodded. "It wasn't intended, but I'm glad I did." She told him honestly; it was true. She was happy to see him now, no longer suffering from the darkness of the night before.
"I thought it had been a dream." He admitted softly, not taking his eyes off her. "That you came to me in the night."
She could almost understand why he thought that; the memories felt more like a dream than anything real, even if they both knew it wasn't the case. Heck, this whole scenario felt more like a dream than reality: talking to a living, breathing dragon as if he was nothing more than a lost furling. It was something she never imagined herself doing, yet here they were. She took a step back as the dragon lifted his head off the ground, turning it to look at her directly.
"How are you feeling?" she eventually asked, still a little concerned about his current well-being.
The dragon didn't answer at first; he looked away, staring at the ground in thought, truly thinking over the question.
"Better." He ultimately decided. "More than I have felt in a long time."
And he truly meant it; the Tight Emptiness, the sensation that had plagued him for years, was finally gone, filled with…something. It wasn't exactly the Warmth that he had been searching for, but it was certainly a lot better than the Emptiness. There was also still a lingering touch of pain, one that he would most likely carry for many more years to come…but despite it, he felt much, much better than he had in the days before.
And he had her to thank for it.
Mrs. Brisby smiled warmly at his answer, turning her own gaze to look out over the early-morning light sparkling across the waters of the river. It was then she noticed that the cave was missing someone.
"Where's Zoe?"
Spyro paused at the question before staring up at the ceiling; the mouse watched in surprise as his eyes glowed with a brilliant purple light, his pupils temporarily disappearing into the light. He held them like that for a moment before eventually closing them, his eyes returning to normal as he seemed to blink the light away. He then turned to her with an answer:
"She is in your home, tending to your children."
Mrs. Brisby's ears perked up at that, eyes widening with realization.
"Oh goodness! Timothy!" She exclaimed, scrambling to her feet in a worried tizzy. She had ended up falling asleep in the cave, with no one to watch over the kids back at the house; Timmy in particular was in no condition to be left without supervision, regardless of how close the cave was.
Spyro looked confused at her worry, but said nothing as he got up himself, stretching his body out like a dog does when they get up from a nap, complete with a wide-mouth yawn.
It was a testament to Brisby's newfound courage for the dragon (or to her commitment to the well-being of her children) that she didn't so much as flinch at the sight of all those teeth. Instead, she simply scurried up to the mouth of the cave and stepped out into the sunlight. The land was covered with dew brought on by the rain, the air moist against her fur and the ground muddy beneath her paws, but the sky was beautiful and clear, Frith's light shining down upon all of his creation.
"The young one is fine." Spyro told her surely as he stepped up to the cave entrance himself. "The medicine worked, and he has recovered enough to stay awake."
She still looked concerned. "How do you know that?"
"Zoe told me." He stated simply.
It was outright humorous, the face of confusion she made at those words. Like a puzzled child confronted with something they couldn't figure out.
"It is morning." Spyro growled as he took his first step out of the cave. "I must feed. So, I shall hunt." Mrs. Brisby scampered out of the way as his large feet thrummed against the ground, his long body slithering through the air with that imposing mixture of serpentine and cat-like grace. He glanced over his shoulder at her as he made his way down the hill, turning to head into the forest. "Tend to your family in the meantime. I will be back when I have eaten my fill." He told her, eyes glinting in the morning sun.
Mrs. Brisby nodded wordlessly, her confusion being quickly replaced with unspoken gratitude; gratitude that he was choosing to go eat elsewhere rather than bringing it back to eat here. The River of Bones had been a nightmare in itself, and she had no desire for her furlings to experience the same kind of horror.
And with that, the dragon turned away and bounded off into the forest, disappearing into the underbrush.
When Mrs. Brisby entered her home, the last thing she expected to be greeted by was the pleasant, welcoming smell of a warm breakfast; the aroma of eggs and cheese made her empty stomach growl in anticipation, much to her embarrassment.
She headed inside to find that Spyro had been truthful in his words: there, in the kitchen area of the main room, Zoe was busy preparing a meal for her and her kids: scrambled eggs with cheese, judging from the smell (something she herself hadn't had since her days in Rosebush City). She was holding the metal pan and spatula with several layers of cloth wrapped around her hands; a bit overdoing it for heat protection, the mouse thought. Both Teresa and Cynthia were in the kitchen with her; Teresa was in the dining area, setting the table with plates and cups for everyone, while Cynthia sat in the corner, playing with her doll.
"What's all this then?" she asked, more amused at the sight than anything else.
"Mommy's back!" Cynthia exclaimed happily.
Zoe glanced up from her preparation of the eggs. "Ah, there you are." She stated simply. "Decided to help get breakfast ready, seeing that you were busy with Spyro." That was one way to put it. "Sleep well?"
"As well as one can in a dragon's cave, I suppose." She stated as she came down the stairs, scooping Cynthia up in her arms when the child scampered over to greet her. "When did I fall asleep?"
"About the same time Spyro did." Zoe told her. "You didn't look to be in discomfort, so I came back to the house while you were with him." She scooped up a stray clump of egg from the pan and ate it. "Figured someone should be watching the kids, especially Timmy, while you were busy." She swallowed her mouthful. "By the way, I borrowed your bed last night, so you might want shake the Pixie Dust out of the sheets before using it again."
"That's alright." Mrs. Brisby assured her as she stepped in to help, setting Cynthia in her chair; the young mother was relieved to know that the children hadn't gone the whole night without supervision. "How's Timmy doing?"
"Much better than he was last night." The fairy stated simply as she poured the last of the scrambled eggs into a large bowl, afterwards she set the metal utensils to the side and began unwrapping her hands from the cloth coverings. "Say what you will about Mr. Age's attitude, but his medicine is the real deal."
Elizabeth nodded in agreement, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Thank Frith…" She muttered to herself, hugging Cynthia.
"Is it true, mother?" Teresa asked as she finished setting the last plate.
Mrs. Brisby looked confused. "Is what true?"
"That Spyro and Zoe are going to be staying with us!" Her daughter exclaimed excitedly as she took her seat at the table. "Zoe told us they were last night!"
The mother mouse nodded as she placed Cynthia in her seat next to her own. "Yes. They're going to be helping us with the Harvest."
"Dragons are strong, and we fairies have a knack for growing plants and stuff, so it's only logical to ask us for help." Zoe quipped playfully as she brought the bowl of scrambled eggs to the table, setting it in the middle before taking her seat at the opposite end of the table from Mrs. Brisby. Only one member of the family (minus the bedridden Timothy) was missing.
"Is Martin up yet?" Mrs. Brisby asked as she took a smaller bowl, using a wooden spoon to fill it with a small helping of eggs and cheese.
"We sent him to check on Timmy, but he probably went back to sleep again." Teresa stated flatly. "He's going to have another tantrum when he misses out of breakfast, the nitwit."
"Teresa! There's no reason to talk about your brother like that!" Mrs. Brisby scolded her eldest child as she finished preparing a breakfast tray for her youngest son. Timmy who was still too ill to join them at the table, regardless of the medicine. Zoe, however, gave Teresa a playful wink behind her mother's back as the mouse made her way into the children's bedroom, tray in hand.
Timmy looked much better than he did the night before; while still noticeably frail and weak from the disease, his fever and the delirium that came with it were gone and he had gathered the strength to sit up in bed, his back propped against his pillow. His brother sat beside his bed, the two of them curiously going through a small pile of Zoe's trinkets and other items, which the fairy had let them play with. Timmy in particular was focused on Zoe's wand, which he was trying to cast a spell with; he waved it around like he imagined Fairies would, but not so much as a single spark of magic came out of it.
Mrs. Brisby scowled a little. "I do hope you two asked Ms. Zoe if you could play with her things before you took them." She said sternly, alerting the boys to her presence.
"They did!" Zoe called from the other room. "And don't worry. Nothing there will harm them; I made sure of that." And it was true; ever since that close call with Cynthia the first time they met, Zoe had gone to great lengths to ensure all of her more fragile (and dangerous) items were hidden away from curious eyes, tucked safely away in her magical void with her other things. The mental image of Cynthia playing with the Speaking Crystal still sent shivers down the fairy's spine every time she thought of it.
"I think your wand is broken." Timothy said with a hint of disappointment in his voice, but sounding much better than he did the night before. "It's not casting magic."
"That's because wands themselves aren't magical." Zoe stated as she got up and came into the room behind Mrs. Brisby, smirking at the pouting furling. "They merely help magic users focus their magic into the world. You have to have your own magic to make it work. Observe." Gently taking the wand back, she demonstrated her own ability by channeling a touch of her magical power into the wand, making the rim around it glow with a soft magenta light.
"Oh…" Timothy said sadly.
"Let's worry about it some other time. It's time for breakfast." Mrs. Brisby told him as she gestured Martin to move away from the bed. She gently gathered up Zoe's things and placed them on top of the bedside drawer, safely out of the way, before taking her seat next to her ill son's bedside, readying to spoon-feed him a bit of eggs, much to the boy's embarrassment.
"Mama, really, I don't need help!" Timothy tried to object. "I feel fine!"
"That's because Mr. Ages medicine is making you feel fine." His mother told him, successfully slipping the spoonful in. "That doesn't mean the sickness is gone, though."
He swallowed the eggs with a bit of effort, for his throat was still sore. "But when, mama? When will I be better?"
"In three weeks. That's what Mr. Ages said. You'll have to stay warm in bed until then."
Timmy looked distraught, but otherwise didn't object, quietly accepting another spoonful of eggs from his mother. The others finished their breakfast pretty quickly (Martin ate his so fast he almost choked), as they were eager to begin the day with their new friends. They were already chattering a tizzy, like baby birds in a nest, each eager to show Spyro and Zoe around the farm. Mrs. Brisby, while charmed by the sight of her children being so happy, nonetheless calmed them down and reminded them there were chores to be done for the day ahead.
They would begin once Spyro returned, she decided. Wherever he had gone.
Blood splattered across the ground with each step as the wounded boar raced through the forest undergrowth, squealing at the top of its lungs as it did so. The large three-claw slash marks across its sides bled, spreading the life fluid across any surface the wild pig brushed up against, leaving a trail of red behind it as it fled.
There was no sign of whatever caused the wound, but it didn't dare stop running. It knew that…thing was close behind, even if hidden from view. And to stop now would be a death sentence.
Little did it know that it was already a dead animal. It just had yet to be put down.
A large form of purple and gold shot down from the branches above with a mighty, terrifying roar that shook the forest, sending the nearby birds scattering to the air. Before the boar could even respond, it felt the monster's massive form slam into it with enough force to knock it off its hooves, the mighty jaws clamping down on the back of its neck; the sheer strength of those jaws crumbled the pig's spinal column, the bones cracking like twigs, and the animal was dead before its body and its attacker even slid to a stop.
Good. Spyro was not the one to make his prey suffer if he could help it.
The dragon held on for a few more seconds, just to be safe. When it was clear his victim was dead, he released his death grip on it and stepped back, letting the body fall to the ground; he gave a guttural croon of approval before leaning in for the first bite, taking a large chunk out of the pig's well-fattened hide. The blood of his prey bloomed in his mouth with an explosion of taste, driving him to dig in with even more gusto, his bloodlust finally being sated…for the time being, that is.
And for once, he didn't feel the need to feed to try and fill the Tight Emptiness for once.
For it was gone, and he had the mother mouse to thank for it.
He continued to eat away at his latest kill as he stood amongst the trees, his tail swishing back and forth behind him as he continued to tear into the carcass. All the while he kept an ear out for anything that could demand his attention. Other predators, thieving scavengers, travelling Rodentkin, just to think of a few; he was a good distance away from the stone, closer to the border. The chances of actually running into travelling merchants or the like was higher than one would think, and he would rather avoid that kind of encounter if he could help it.
Travelling…now that was a thought that tickled his mind with interest. Not the type like sailing across the ocean again; he had enough of that kind of travel to last him several lifetimes (and for a dragon, that was saying something). No, what he thought of was travelling outside the border. He had never been beyond the borders of Feywild before, and now that he had returned to Nimh (and found much needed peace of mind and heart) he wanted to see more of it.
To see the world beyond the control of the Fairies. To see the mice and rats that walked and talked like humans…and if they would be as nice to him as the stone's small family had.
…he never did ask her name.
But he also understood the dangers of such ideas. Namely how his presence would be taken by said mice and rats; when the mother mouse first met him, she was as terrified of him as one could possibly be, unaware that he was more than just a monster with very sharp teeth; he had to show her that he meant no harm, and only afterwards did she not fear him. His gut instinct told him that doing the same with other Rodentkin wouldn't be nearly as simple, especially the rats with their sharp weapons and suspicious natures.
And he knew the futility of trying to win over those of suspicious natures.
He bit down into the hind-leg of the hog, sinking his teeth into the tough yet juicy flesh, before ripping the chunk he had bitten into off. He swallowed the mouthful and was about to take another bite of it when something on the wind pricked in his ears, causing them to perk up in attention.
Voices. Several of them.
And it sounded like they were in conflict.
Now on full alert, Spyro lowered himself down to the ground, crouching deeply to hide himself as best as his size would allow. He then began to silently slink forward, much like a snake slithering through the grass, his footsteps making no noise whatsoever as he headed in the direction of the voices: the opposite one to the Lee of the Stone.
And soon enough, he came across the source: another pair of weasels, he noted with heavy displeasure. The two predators had cornered someone in an old rodent burrow, one that was too small for even them to fit through, chuckling wickedly and taunting it with cruel words as they dug at the earth in an almost leisurely manner; they knew they had their prey cornered, and were in no rush to force them out.
"Why bother hiding, shriveled shrew?" The one in front of the hole taunted, fangs gleaming in the light as she grinned. "We're oh so very hungry. It's rude to make us wait."
"Not on your lives!" A familiar voice shouted from inside. "I haven't lived this long just to end up weasel food now!"
Spyro knew that voice: it was the old shrew that had captured his fairy the fateful day they first returned to the stone. 'Auntie' Shrew, it he recalled correctly.
The second weasel laughed, lounging on the hill just above the den, patiently waiting for time and the elements to force the old Rodentkin out of hiding for him, while his partner continued to playfully paw at the ground around the hole. "Waste of good meat, to let it age for so long." He said with cruel malice in his voice. "Best eaten when young. When flesh is still tender."
Spyro's eyes narrowed dangerously at that comment. Way too familiar to the words he had heard the other one say when it was going to eat her.
"As if I would give you the satisfaction of eating my flesh, you snake-faced savages!" Auntie Shrew snapped as she swung her walking stick at the paw reaching into the barrow, barely missing it, and sending the two predators into a fit of uproarious laughter. "We can play this game all day! I'm not going anywhere anytime soon!"
"And neither are we." The first weasel laughed, laying down comfortably on the ground in front of the hole. "What will drive shriveled shrew out first? Cold, hunger, of both? We shall see."
"Don't count on it."
Spyro's voice thundered with primordial anger as he forsook the stealth approach and stepped into his clearing, his footfalls once again shaking the earth as he outright stomped out of his hiding place for all to see. All traces of the smug confidence and cruel amusement the weasels had was instantly erased and replaced with shock and fear; fear of the likes one could only feel when confronted by death itself.
He didn't even have to roar to get them to leave: all it took was one thunderous growl, showing off his much larger and sharper teeth, to send them running for their lives, kicking up dirt as they tore from the clearing.
The dragon glared after them, but otherwise didn't make any move to chase after them. They got the message clearly enough. They would not return.
He then turned to the hole. "The weasels are gone. You can come out now."
"Do you take me for a fool?! That I don't know the monster that voice belongs to?!" The shrew's voice was notably several octaves higher; perhaps his growl had been too effective. "Frith have mercy on this soul, for one of the great serpents of the north to roam Nimh is truly a sign of the end times!"
Spyro fought the urge to roll his eyes, giving a grunt of exasperation instead. Not the first time he had heard something like that.
He then looked in the direction that the weasels had fled, observing the tracks they left behind; the long claw marks were visible even from a distance, given how fast they scrambled to get out of his sight.
"Why do they hunt fellow Enlighten?"
From within the burrow, Auntie Shrew was taken aback by the question. "Excuse me?"
"The weasels." He clarified, the tip of his tail causally swishing back and forth. "And other predators like them. Why do they hunt the flesh of their fellow Enlighten, their kin of mind, when the meat of ferals is right there, if not more bountiful?"
"…I honestly don't know." The old shrew stated, still rather taken aback by a dragon of all creatures asking such a question. "Perhaps we taste better or something…"
Spyro's scowl darkened into a glare at that. "Mousey fresh and sweet…" He muttered aloud, repeating the words he had heard the first weasel say before they intended to kill the mother mouse.
Auntie Shrew's head popped out of the ground with an almost audible pop. "What did you say?!"
"That's what the first ones said." Spyro told her, not really paying attention to her as he brooded on his thoughts. "They said the meat of my kills was bitter, and that Mrs. Mouse was sweet. They would've eaten her over everything else they had-"
"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO SAVED ELIZABETH?!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.
Spyro's ears flattened against his head from the shout, but then perked up as the name registered in his mind.
Elizabeth…that was her name…
It was a pretty name.
"Elizabeth Johnathan Brisby. Ever since the day Johnathan first brought you back to Dapplewood, I made it my personal mission to see that you would have as safe and loving a life as possible, despite your heritage. Not many others would accept a Feral-Born into their lives, yet I took that chance with you without a moment's hesitation. And it's a decision I have never regretted, not even on the worst of days. You have been the closest thing to a daughter I've ever had, and it has been an honor and a privilege to have known you all these years. I would not trade any of it for the world, and thus you will understand that I say this with the kindest and most loving of intentions: you are out of your bloody mind."
Elizabeth sighed. That had been the reaction she was expecting.
"I've told myself that many times since I made my decision." She admitted as she tucked Timmy into bed, helping her sick son settle in for a nap. The boy barely had time to get his objections to a nap out before he gave a heavy yawn, his eyelids slowly closing as the second helping of Mr. Age's medicine started to take effect.
"A Dragon. An Honest-to-Frith Dragon. Here, on Nimh!" Auntie Shrew's hands shook slightly as she took a sip of water from the cup she held in her shaking paws, her nerves quite shot. "Not even your husband dealt with one of them in his lifetime, and you intend to take it into your nest as if it were a lost furling!"
"He is a lost furling." Mr. Brisby stated calmly as she led her Aunt out of the children's bedroom, the two heading up the stairs that led outside. "One that's been abandoned by his own kind. I can't just sit back and do nothing."
"But certainly, you see the dangers this holds for you and your family!" The shrew objected as they exited the house. "I mean, even if he means no harm, look at him!"
The two looked up to see the rest of her children currently at play…and today's play was something else to behold: Spyro laid across the ground and watched quietly as the three played around his paws, telling him stories and showing him their toys. It had been a little worrying at first, to see them interact with something so large and dangerous, but it spoke to the dragon's gentleness that he was able to play with them this way without harming them. All the while Zoe stood off to the side, keeping her watchful eyes on the whole thing.
"I am." The mouse said without missing a beat, watching with a warm fondness as Cynthia showed Spyro her doll, which had been repaired since the day he brought it back to her, which Spyro gently poked at with the tip of his large claw. "And do you know what I see? I see a kind and gentle soul, forced into a life he never asked for, desperate for a place to call home. A soul that went out of his way to save the life of an intruder to his home. Twice. I owe him that, at least."
Auntie Shrew paused at that, that particular fact tugging at what remained of her haggard old heartstrings. "I…" She began, her confidence in the matter wavering. She sighed. "…I suppose that merits some benefit of the doubt…" She surrendered. "…but I know for a fact that this will spell trouble for the rest of Nimh, once word of his existence starts to spread."
Mrs. Brisby paused at those words but shook her head with resolve. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." She told her. "I trust Justin and King Nicodemus. They will see reason."
"But what of Nicodemus' nephew? That 'Jenner' fellow?" The shrew asked, her eyes darkening at the thought of that particular rat. "Trust me, child. That scoundrel will bring nothing but trouble when he learns of 'Spyro' here."
Now that was something that brought concern to the young mouse's heart. Jenner, the nephew of King Nicodemus…and one of the cruelest rats she had ever met. Even from the first moment she met him all those years ago, when Johnathan brought her back to Rosebush City for the first time, she could tell he was a dangerous person. Cruel, twisted, and cunning, he had been the most vocal in his opinions about Johnathan's decision to take an 'animal wife'. Part of her believed he was one of the main reasons her late husband had moved them out to the Fae lands to begin with. If he were to find out about Spyro's existence, then all the grief she had received from him beforehand would appear to be pathetic school-yard bullying by comparison.
"I…I know…" She admitted weakly. "…but I'm not changing my mind. Spyro saved my life…not just my life, but Timmy's as well. And I intend to repay his kindness to me, no matter what anyone says."
Auntie Shrew looked like she wanted to argue more, but ultimately surrendered to her 'niece's' resolve. "Very well. If this is what you're absolutely sure of, then so be it." She sighed as she followed her to where the kids were playing. She then allowed a small smirk to cross her lips. "Perhaps if we're lucky, your dragon will eat Jenner when he meets the ruffian."
"Auntie!" Mrs. Brisby scolded, though she couldn't stop her own mouth from turning into a smile.