Chapter 4: Don't Faun Over Your Problems

The Artisans—Town Square

"Good, good..."

Elora wended her way through the maze of tables and chairs in the dining hall. It was going to be packed to all ends with dragons. Fathers, children—and mothers, as Nestor had long told her. It'd taken her a while to get the seating arrangements down. Some parents had one child, but most had two or three; there were a handful of dragons like Cosmos who had no offspring.

She climbed a ladder to tighten one of the many glittering ribbons on the wall, lapsing into a daydream. As usual, the ceiling-high windows were propped open. The activities of countless dragons working and preparing for the festival had been constant background noise last few months, but now it was calmer and less hectic. From what she could tell from the whizzing sounds and laughter, there was a snowball war raging on every avenue.

Elora vaguely noticed that a chill had settled on her neck. That wasn't odd for the time of the year, but the hall had always been comfortably warm even with the windows open. She glanced around as she went down the ladder. Nestor and Alvar were in the kitchens.

So far they were two of the three souls who'd seen all the work she'd done in the dining hall. Elora looked over her notes as she made her way back towards the center, and then just happened to glance down. She shrieked and stumbled away into a table, clutching it so hard the veins in her hands popped out. A dragon was crouched on all fours near a particular table, namely the one Elora had reserved for her friends and herself.

Oh, for…how long has she been in here!? Elora thought, light-headed. That had been the worst scare she'd had in memory, and she had to take a moment to catch her breath. Cynder stayed unmoving, unblinking, and focused on her, like a cat ready to pounce.

Elora slowly pulled a chair out and sat down. She could feel the dragon glaring at her every move. "Cynder," she said cordially. "Hi."

Cynder's green eyes narrowed even further, but she said nothing.

"Can I help you? Or are you maybe here to help set up?"

"I should. You shouldn't."

Welp, here we go, Elora thought. "Well, what—"

"What are you trying to prove?"

"I...don't know what you mean."

"Don't try to pretend. You can't really think that you belong here. I've seen it in your body language. You know the truth."

The dragon was spitting words full of dark venom, speaking with a lot more bluntness than ever before. It was like her personality had gone from cold to scalding and it scared Elora a little.

"Dragons and fauns don't mix," Cynder stated viciously, standing up. "Especially fauns like you."

Elora managed to keep her voice from wavering. "How can you say that? I'm different. I actually like being here."

"Oh, yes then, you're that kind of creature," Cynder said loftily. "Tell me then...do you feel superior, thinking of yourself as some sort of dragon-tamer? Maybe some progressive harlot who likes the feeling of being around such revered creatures? You like the feeling of control."

Elora had a mildly annoyed, but generally flat stare fixed on the dragon. She was fuming internally but she had heard these things before. She knew just how to handle the situation.

"You're wrong, Cynder. It'd be dumb of me to try and do any of what you're saying. Dragons aren't beasts to be tamed... but you're right on one thing. It is a privilege being around them. It's a good thing they're so welcoming...not you, though."

Cynder was already cracking. Pillars of smoke were billowing from her nostrils, and her wings were flared and sharp-looking.

"I don't believe you. They'll find you out soon," the dragon snapped. "Whatever your motive is, they'll see. You can't keep hiding it forever."

"I'm not—hiding anything."

"Why the pause, then?"

"What I say probably wouldn't matter if you already think a certain way about me."

"You don't belong here."

"Yeah, you're right."

"So leave."

"I wouldn't want to."

"You filthy mud-trotter!"

Elora glared, hopping up to her feet. "WHAT did you just call me?"

"All of you are alike!" Cynder exploded into a sudden fury, eyes wide and manic. "PATHETIC! DECITEFUL! CALCULATING! You're a Draco-Striker, aren't you?!"

Elora gasped.

"You are! Where is your gear, faun? Where've you hidden it!?"

"That's not any of your business! I don't even use it for that purpose!"

"LIAR! Why do you still have it if you moved from the homelands?!"

"…hold on, wait, wait, wait," Elora said shortly, holding up her hands. "Just...wait. You know a lot about my race, don't you? You even knew the right slur to sling...I'll admit."

Cynder's eyes glittered and her smile was snakelike. "I'm a dragon. I know a lot of things."

"Right, right, with your dreams or whatever. Makes me wonder why your ancestors would bother showing you the nuances of a culture that hates your kind. You think they wanted you hunting down every faun you see?"

"Maybe, for revenge. How would I know?"

"You wouldn't. I think you've been lying."

"I don't—oh, just be quiet," Cynder hissed, twitching her wings.

"Can you say you've been completely truthful this whole time?"

"Be quiet!"

"I hope you're not lying. To ANY of us," Elora said testily, folding her arms behind her back. "Like I said, you know a lot for a dragon who's apparently lived on the opposite side of the continent her whole life. Dreams or not, can you blame me for questioning you? And I don't even know what the point of you coming here was."

"I belong here!"

"I'm talking about here, to talk to me. Were you really trying to hassle me into leaving the Dragon Realms?" Elora asked, smiling. "Look, I'm loved here. I don't want to leave, so I'm fine. A little insecure, but fine. Trust me, the day they kick me out, I'll write you a letter telling you that you're right."

Cynder caused a fierce downdraft as she suddenly took off. She spat a few scarlet embers onto a table before soaring up to the open window.

"Ugh, come on!" Elora batted the flames down before they spread, yanking the tablecloth off. At least it was only one she had to replace, but each one took her about a day to make! Annoyed, she balled up the ruined tablecloth and hurled it at the ground.

"Elora?"

"Whoa!" she gasped, spinning. Nestor was coming her way. Way in the distance and leaning out of the kitchen doorway was the red dragon Alvar, who watched a little awkwardly with a butcher knife in hand.

"Oh, sorry, Nestor," Elora said hurriedly, picking up the table cloth. "It got toasted, I'll just make a new one…"

But he gently took it from her, kneeling down to her height. "I heard," he said quietly.

Elora shrugged, trying to look unbothered. "What, are you saying adults aren't above eavesdropping?"

"No, they aren't. And I wouldn't want to normally, but I felt that I had to this time. The things she was saying surprised me...I never thought she would be so spiteful and angry. Is there anything I can do for you, Elora? Do you need to talk?"

"What? No, no."

"You're right in everything you said. You are loved and are no stranger to us," Nestor said firmly. He smiled. "In fact, my mate wants to meet you. I told her how, when you first arrived here, you went out of your way to introduce yourself to every dragon in our clan. She appreciates forwardness."

"O-Oh, really. I mean, it was the least I could do. Spyro helped with that. I didn't want to suddenly pop in and have everyone like, 'hey, what's she doing here' or whatever…"

"You still did it. You showed your heart. I can assure you, no dragon here thinks you belong elsewhere. If this feels like home, then it is your home."

"Okay…thank you, Nestor." Elora looked up at him with shaking eyes. "But can we stop talking about this? I, uh…didn't expect to have this conversation today."

He stood. "Okay. One last question. Shall I speak to her on the matter?"

"No, it's fine. That argument has nothing to do with everything that's coming up. We need to stay focused."

"You're right. Thankfully we're just about done. And it's amazing in here."

Nestor looked up towards the window Cynder had flown out through. He had a million questions, but the last answer to them all was the furthest thing from his mind.

Later that day...

Dragon Shores - The Tunnel of Love

They'd been there for hours. And literally, every other ride they came back to was this one.

"I'm not sure why you're interested in a boat ride the most." Bored, Spyro drug his claws in the water. "I lost count how many times we came here. You always get so quiet, too."

Cynder said nothing. She was fidgeting up a storm. For once Spyro didn't notice her tension, humming a bit as he daydreamed. "Last time I was in here, I was with Elora," he remembered suddenly.

Cynder's pupils slitted as she glared at the back of his head.

"But you know, now that I think…she was sorta quiet, too," Spyro said. He felt an awful chill run up his spine. When he sat up and looked towards his sister, she was looking at him with soft and innocent features.

"Woo, is it the chill buggin' you? What's wrong?" Spyro laughed. "You seem bothered, Cynder."

"I know. I wanted to come here, and um...it's been great. It's just that...there's something I have to tell you."

"Whuzzat, sis?" he asked, scratching behind his head. When she hesitated and looked so very troubled, Spyro finally grew concerned. It looked as though she were about to cry.

"What's wrong? Is it something bad?" he asked, concerned. "Are you hurt?"

"No...I'm not. It isn't bad. It's just about…"

"About what?"

Cynder took in a deep breath. She was ready.

"About...me being your sister," she said steadily, looking into his eyes. "I'm not...really her. You have no siblings. I lied."