Prologue

There are many places across the dragon realms where one could find the most beautiful sunsets. Places where the golden fingers of the sun dressed in a beautiful dress of warm colors. The different shades of red, yellow, orange and the occasional brush of violet and blue were quite the spectacle to see. And people seemed to enjoy the sunsets more since the war with Malefor had come to a swift end nearly twenty years prior.

But for one little dragon, the edge of the Whispering Wilds was one such place. A place not for him to enjoy the sunset for its colors. But a place for him to soak up the warmth of the ever-descending rays before the darkness swallowed them up until the following day. Because at night, the woods that lay to his rear brought upon the coldest nights he had ever felt in his seven years of life. As well as the meanest of predators that would love to tear him limb from limb with no remorse.

The little electric dragon never ventured far into the woods during the day and never dared set foot in them at night. The fresh scars on his body were constant reminders of the many dangers that the woods held. The sounds alone that echoed off the seemingly dead trees sent chills up his spine. So, he only dared enter when he had to. That was only when his empty belly sent pains throughout his small frame or when his throat felt like a desert.

Despite the scars, he was a handsome little tike. His scales were a bright titanium yellow, and his chest and belly were a dark grey similar to the burnt stones around the area he stayed. His wings maintained the same color pattern. The appendage itself is yellow while the leathery membrane sported the dark grey. Three horns adorned the top of his head and shot backward before sharply aiming towards the sky. The end of each horn looked like they had briefly sunk in a pool of gold. The horns – if looked at from the front – made a pyramid-like shape. The two outer horns being shorter than the lone center horn and two smaller horns jutted out from the sides of the center one.

But his most notable features were his tail blade and his eyes.

The young dragons tail blade looked as though it was from pure obsidian. And it was just as sharp. Four scythe-like blades formed on the tip of the standard length tail. The dragon never had to use it against a foe, but it had proven worthy of slashing at small prey animals like rabbits and mice. But it was his eyes that made him a truly unique dragon to look upon in awe.

While the typical eye color of an electric dragon was either gold or yellow, this young drake sported the most impressive pair of teal-blue eyes. He couldn't help but sit and admire them whenever he caught his reflection in a nearby pond. They seemed to put him into a trance, and he would find himself staring into them for long periods of time.

But his good looks never stopped larger predators from trying to eat him or laying their mark across his pristine scales. The newest addition to his never-ending list of scars, cuts, bumps, and bruises was an extended, shallow cut that ran from the back of his left jawline to the base of his neck. He didn't know what gave it to him, but it was the main reason why he chose to stay away from the woods at night. It had since scabbed over, but it itched a lot, and he found himself dripping dark red blood from scratching away at the scab.

It hurt like hell when the wind blew dust into the wound, and it was even more excruciating when he cleaned it out in the pond.

"Probably shouldn't have gone into the woods," he growled through gritted teeth as he continued to clean the cut in the cold waters of the pond. "But no, my stomach had to feel the need of something inside of it."

His stomach growled in response. It was still empty. He hadn't had anything to eat in nearly three days, and his low energy levels showed a drastic change in his ability to perform simple tasks. He knew his body could last a few more days, but even then, his body would eat away at the small amount of muscle he had built up over the years. The little dragon wasn't prepared to let that happen.

"Maybe I'll find a rabbit on my way back," he whispered to himself.

He leaned down as close to the clear water as he could, his snout mere inches from being consumed in all its wetness. With his right paw, he scooped up some water and attempted to clean out any remaining dirt before he goes home for the night. He hissed in discomfort as one of his sharp claws caught on one of his lose scales, which dug into the wound.

"Gah!" he breathed, his voice filled with pain. He gently pulled the scale out and tossed it into the pond. "I may as well just take them all off."

He strained his vision to try and see the wound in the reflection of the water. His eyes could barely make out the exposed flesh – but to no avail – he couldn't see whether the injury was clean. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to clean the dirt out of the laceration.

After a couple of minutes of the repeated process, the electric dragon sighed in relief when the stinging sensation in his neck finally subsided. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sunset on the distant horizon. The last little bit of heat felt nice on his scales, and he absorbed every bit of it. He sat down on his haunches and let his mind drift.

For his entire seven years of life, he had lived on the edge of the Whispering Wilds. From the moment he broke out of his yellow egg prison, he had made his surviving living day in and day out outside these woods. The first couple of years were the hardest for him. Not knowing where he was going to lay his head down to sleep or when he was going to fill his belly.

There were those times where he wouldn't eat for a couple of days on end and those countless hours where his body wasn't letting him sleep. Mainly because the stomach pains were so unbearable that the poor dragon couldn't bring himself into a deep slumber, let alone a light snooze. When his body eventually collapsed from exhaustion, the little drake's dreams were plagued by nightmares. Horrible ideas where he thought he was being hurt or was being taken in the middle of the night. A proper, uneventful night sleep seemed right up there with pure fantasy.

But even the youngest must face their demons sometimes.

"Maybe tonight is the night I get some decent sleep," he sighed hopefully, pulling himself to his feet. "But of course, one could dream. Or in my case, have nightmares."

During his walk back to his shelter, he had stumbled on a decent sized rabbit which he quickly killed with a bite to the neck. He had considered bringing it back and cooking it as he found cooked meat to be rather delectable. But his mouth watered at the taste of the rabbit's blood and flesh on his tongue. He engorged himself and consumed the rabbit raw. Its tender meat filled his shrinking stomach quickly, and he found himself satisfied with the meal. He buried the inedible scraps to keep predators away and continued towards home.

His paws carried him to his so-called home, a rock outcropping barely shallow enough to block the wind and some of the harsher elements, but not big enough to support a fire that could sustain itself against the wind. Of course, that was all dependent on which way the wind was blowing. Tonight, felt like a night that was expected to hold some nasty trick up its sleeve. He felt it in his gut, and he hated it when his stomach was right.

Despite such a young age, he could prepare small fires and make a sturdy bit of shelter to prevent him from freezing in the night. All it took was a little ingenuity and brainstorming for the little dragon to figure out. But one could not live without the other. If he had a fire and no shelter, it didn't matter how much heat the light generated. He would eventually succumb to the bitter weather from hypothermia. If he had a tent and no fire, his body would stay protected from the elements, but he wouldn't be able to generate enough heat to battle the cold weather.

He had thought of building up the walls to enclose the heat, but nothing he did seemed to work. He wasn't strong enough to lift rocks half his size to build a high enough wall. And any shelter he had built never stayed up more than a single night. Plus, he always woke up barely able to breathe with all the toxic smoke the fire filled his lungs with.

And he tried finding caves to live in, but none resided outside the Whispering Wilds. Anything he did find was either equal or worse to what he already had. But whenever he did go out to explore the area, he wasn't just looking for somewhere to stay. He had also spent a majority of the time looking for his family.

When he hatched from his egg many years ago, he expected to be greeted by his family. He had heard their voices when he was a few weeks from hatching. They had sounded happy and excited for their baby to be born. He had dreamed of what they might look like, and he wished he would hatch, but he wasn't ready yet. His little heart raced with excitement when he finally felt strong enough to break out and meet them.

But when he finally did break open the top of his egg.

He saw nothing.

He was only a newborn hatchling. No mommy. No daddy. No family to call his own and no name from whatever brought him into this world. At the time he didn't even know what he was and had not a single clue what his parents looked like, but with no idea who they were or where they went, he was stuck on a dead-end street.

It irritated him whenever the idea popped into his mind.

Not knowing who his family was or where they might have gone made him sad on occasion. A tear would form, or his heart would ache from the feeling of abandonment. He wished that someone would show up and take him in, but he knew that to be impossible. He was the only person that he had ever seen his first five years of life until someone eventually did come around. All he could get now were questions. At least those were free. Why would they abandon their baby in the middle of the woods without the ability to defend himself? How did they expect him to survive? What kind of parent does that to their children?

"A stupid, idiotic, incapable, moron of a parent that's who," he always caught himself saying. "They didn't even name me."

But instead of pointing blame, he took the matter of naming himself into his paws. He figured if he was going to die and take his place amongst the stars, he was going to go with dignity and a name to go with it. Even after the heated debate with his conscious, he settled on something that he both liked, and thought was a little unique.

"Tango," he said out of the blue one day while cleaning himself in a pond. He shrugged his shoulders at the name. "I like it. Has a nice ring to it?"

Tango had no real reason for calling himself that. To him, it was simple and easy to pronounce. He laughed hysterically at his previous name ideas as he imagined himself in a battle against some evil force trying to get out his overly complicated name. Some of the alternative names he had considered had letters that should never go next to each other, let alone in the same word.

"I guess I'll take simple and easy over complicated and flustering any day," he grumbled, twisting his neck to crack the stiffness away.

The electric dragon stepped into the cover of the rock outcropping, letting the shade consume his body. He dropped back into his rump and let his blue eyes gaze upon the setting sun. The golden orb was nearing the halfway point, which meant that it was time for Tango to start building his fire and settling in for the night.

The shelter of the outcropping wasn't much. Barely big enough to house his shelter with no room to spare. And his tent wasn't much either. It settled between two rocks pushed against the back wall with a gap in-between vast enough for Tango to barely lay lengthwise and a roof made from branches and leaves. His firepit was a few feet away with a small border of rocks barely shoulder height on three sides, the opening towards Tango's shelter.

The border of rocks didn't help much, but Tango figured he'd leave it. "Best leave something that barely does anything than have nothing at all."

Once he got his fire going, which he started using a piece of flint and his tail blade, he felt a strong draft smack him right in the face. "Not that tonight was going to be memorable or cozy anyway," he mumbled, stretching out his wings feeling the draft against the durable surface before curling up inside his shelter and closing his eyes.

If only I knew how to fly, I could get out of this place.

The wind had been the least of his worries.

Within a few minutes of laying his head down, dark grey almost black clouds formed in the sky. They brought stronger winds as well as a nasty mix of snow and rain. A genuinely horrible combination of Tango's least favorite weather conditions. It wasn't even a few heartbeats later that the snow began to settle on the ground in a thin layer of white. The cold came with it and soon a bone-chilling gust of wind pelted against Tango's scales, sending tingling shivers up and down his body. His shelter was making his life miserable as it acted as a wind tunnel against him.

He curled himself into the tightest ball he could muster. Nearly close enough to squeeze the oxygen out of his lungs. The whistling of the wind battered his ears as he screwed his eyes shut. His body trembled, and he prayed that the wind would just come to a stop. It was at least blowing the fire and its heat his direction, but he knew that it wouldn't last long.

"I'd do anything for this wind to stop," he cried to himself, a tear welling up in the corner of his eye.

Tango never liked the wind. To him, all it brought was destruction and despair. It never made his life easy. Not that he expected growth to be comfortable. But there were occasions where he felt like he'd rather be dead than go through another minute of standing in the cold wind.

The electric dragon cracked his eyes and saw the elements attacking his fire relentlessly. He felt no heat from the light anymore. Struggling to his feet, against his inner protests, he frantically tried to block the wind from reaching his fire. His eyes watered from the constant harassment of the fast-moving air particles and he found himself blinking frequently. The onslaught of the weather made him feel like he was under attack.

Of all the stormy nights he had experienced, this one was by far the worst. Most never picked up more than a breeze and bit of light rain. But Tango never could have predicted what came on this night. Not by a longshot. He'd experienced heavy rains and snow in the past, but tonight was beyond ridiculous.

It didn't seem like it was going to end as Tango continued to put himself in the path of the wind, as the rain and snow began to pick up. Now snow and rain were hitting his side like bullets. But protecting his most precious asset to survival was vital if he was going to make it through the night. He could feel his core temperature slowly dropping as he was peppered with cold air against his scales. Which was starting to take its effects?

His nose was starting to run, and his underside was cold to the touch. The weather was making his immune system break down piece by piece. A nasty bout of coughing began to ensue, and his runny nose started to become impaired with clogging, making breathing a hassle. His entire body shuddered violently, and his knees grew weaker and weaker.

That left him with very few options to consider.

If he moved, the fire would be extinguished in a flash, but he could seek shelter and try to conserve whatever heat his body managed to maintain. Not that it was much anyway.

If he didn't move, there was a possibility that he could salvage his fire, but under the constant barrage of the snow and rain, his body was likely to shut down from hypothermia.

"I…. d-don't know…what to…do," he mumbled to himself, his teeth chattering. "Please…. stop this wind…. I beg of you…. I-I can't take it anymore!"

Tango turned his neck to look at his fire and felt his heart drop as the flames began to wither away despite his best efforts slowly. He watched with a pained look in his eyes as the fire dissipated entirely, leaving nothing but a few hot coals not even big enough to get the fire going again. A fiery rage swelled in his chest as he let out the most heartbroken wail his failing body could muster followed by a raging fit.

His paw smacked the ground as hard as he could, sending an uncomfortable tingle up his entire leg. But he didn't stop there as he continued to beat the dirt, thinking he could get it to submit to his anger. But to no avail, he found himself bleeding extensively from his paw. There was an area of his hand that was missing the skin entirely, and blood slowly oozed out, which he cleaned with his tongue.

He cast his gaze at the night sky, A gap in the clouds revealed a beautiful array of bright stars. Tango forced himself to concentrate on them, hoping to take his mind off the festering cold that consumed him slowly, draining the heat from his core.

After what seemed like an eternity, his legs finally gave into the cold, and he crashed to the ground in a small heap. The barrier around the fire blocked him from most of the wind, but he still felt it against his back.

He still felt cold, and still growing colder. Every inch of his being felt cold to the touch. One would assume he was dead if he fell asleep.

He felt sick to his stomach, and the desire to throw up built up in his throat.

He felt weak. All his strength was fading into what felt like a black hole in his body.

Tango shook vigorously, hoping his body would generate some heat. No heat came.

"By the ancestors!" He wailed. "Why do they hate me so much? I'm just a hatchling doing everything he can to survive. I didn't ask for this life. All I wanted was a family, and even they abandoned me here to die. What did I do to deserve this?" Tears streamed down his cheeks wetting his scales.

His life had never been fair to him. Sleepless nights, severe weather, little food, and dangers beyond his wildest imaginations. There had been days he wished he'd take his tail blade to his throat and let nature take its course. Today wasn't one of those days, but he felt like death was going to come in the form of pain and misery.

"I don't want to die here," he called out, sending out a silent prayer. Please let me live! I don't want to die here.

Tango closed his eyes, letting his body do its own thing. A numbing sensation began in the tip of his tail, and he felt it move its way up his tail and into his back legs. Eventually up his back and into his front legs and the base of his shoulders. It slowly seeped up his neck and finally ceased at his jawline. His whole body was numb, and he had no feeling in any of his limbs.

Tango felt paralyzed.

A single tear trickled down his cheek. "So….th…this is…it then," he rasped, his throat feeling constricted. "This is how I die." He swallowed hard and choked down a deep breath only for it to shoot back up in a fit of a nasty cough. "This is how the family less dragon goes down. One windy night, huh?"

His breathing was beginning to become labored and shallowed. His muscles grew weak, and he felt frozen in his position, almost paralyzed. Slowly, but surely, his vision was starting to become dimmer to the point anything beyond his muzzle looked blurry. His mind was telling him just to let him rest, but he just knew that he couldn't. Resting now was undoubtedly a one-way ticket to the afterlife. Tango didn't want to die just yet, but under the current circumstances that were almost impossible. He fought to keep his eyelids from caving in on themselves, but it felt like he was holding back the weight of mountains. With a pain-filled sigh, his eyes began to close.

I guess my time has come, Tango thought, a final tear trickling down his cheek.

Not a second later, he could hear a series of muffled whooshing sounds, and he soon started to feel a little bit of warmth against his belly. It was faint, but he thought it. And he felt it begin to grow more intense until it almost burned his underside. He cast a weak eye at his fire, thinking he was hallucinating. His teal-blue eyes could see his fire crackling as though it had never been blown out in the first place.

His vision began to clear up and the numbness throughout his being subsided into nothingness. He lifted his head slowly, a burning headache making him hiss in discomfort. He fully extended his neck and paused as he realized something was off. The wind was no longer assaulting his home. In fact, he couldn't even hear the wind at all. He shivered as his body still felt cold, despite warming up. Feeling his forehead with a paw, he sighed with annoyance. The cold had given him early stages of a fever, which he dreaded.

Cautiously, Tango struggles to get up onto his paws. His shoulders, thighs, and calves were feeling sore and weak from the cold. Once the waters had been tested with his legs, Tango gazed towards the back of his shelter using the ambient light of the flames. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he moved towards his poorly made rock shelter and looked it over.

"It's just how I left it," he mumbled quietly. "Something still feels off. The wind doesn't just disappear like that…. unless."

And that's when the feeling finally hit him. The dreadful feeling as though you're being watched. With a gulp and a shudder, Tango slowly peered over his shoulder and immediately felt all his internal organs up in his throat. His heartbeat became rapid and his breathing hyperventilated. He backed up against the back wall of the outcropping, rising onto his shaking hind legs, and pushing his back against it.

Standing roughly thirty feet from him just outside the cover of the rock outcropping were two massive dragons staring directly at him. Behind them was a giant wall of smooth stone that connected to both sides – as well as the roof – of Tango's outcropping seamlessly. As though it had been like that since the dawn of time itself. A large opening to their right symbolized an entryway and a there was a small hole in the ceiling for some unknown reason.

The realization of what they did struck him in the chest. They made the shelter of his dreams by doing nothing at all. How? He wondered.

Tango closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. The dragons hadn't moved, but he made the chance to get a decent look at them. Both dragons were massive compared to him as they were within a few inches of grazing their horns on the ceiling, but there was a slight difference between them give or take a couple of inches. Tango deduced that the one on the left was female and the other being male. But what was most striking was not the size of their bodies, but by how they were colored.

The dragoness on the left was a black scaled with emerald-green eyes with a bright, ruby red underbelly. She had enormous wings with blades on her wing carpals, and the membrane was the same ruby coloration as her belly. She had six beautiful silver-white horns on her head. Tango noticed shiny, metallic bracelets on her wrists as well as a platinum necklace adorned with an emerald-like her eyes. He also saw strange symbols on her forehead, shoulders, and around her eyes. They looked creepy, but on her, they seemed to suit her looks. As for looks, she had a long, slender neck and an attractive body slabbed with small muscles.

Is this what dragoness's looked like? Tango thought to himself. But his eyes trailed over to the more massive male drake before he could answer his question.

The drake on the right was a massive thing of a dragon. His scales were a bright purple, which seemed like an odd color for a dragon to Tango, and his chest and belly were a golden color. He had two horns on his head as well as some spikes running down the center of his head like a mohawk. His wings, if spread out, looked as though they could touch both sides of the new, enclosed space. They were golden as well with a similar red, ruby membrane as the dragoness. He had some old scars all over his body, possibly from fighting or his fault. Either way, the muscles on the dragon looked chiseled in as though they had been that built up since birth. But what Tango noticed most was the friendly gaze he held in his violet colored eyes.

"W-who are you?" Tango demanded, barring his teeth at the newcomers. "What do you want?"

The dragoness smiled. "My name is Cynder," her voice was smooth and pure, as though this was one of the few times her precious voice left her lips. "And this is my mate, Spyro," she gestured to the purple drake, who nodded curtly. "What's your name?"

"T-Tango," he stuttered. "My name is…. Tango."

"Greetings, Tango," Spyro introduced.

"Why did you ask me my name? You just trying to get my guard down, so you can pounce on me and eat me?" His tone was stern, but not hostile.

"Because we just wanted to get to know you better, little one," Cynder said kindly. "Right, Spyro?"

Spyro nodded curtly. "Yes, of course. And with an interesting name like Tango, we now know we must get to know you better. Besides, anyone that has the nerve to hurt a hatchling has no place in this world. They are our future after all. We'd be lost without them."

Cynder smiled at her mate's kindness but said nothing as she leaned up against him, their scales intermingling comfortably.

Tango eyed them both up and down carefully. He noticed how their muscles were relaxed, their eyes peaceful and innocent, and noticed how they were completely at ease with him. "I guess I can trust you but keep your distance. You may have told me your names and that you don't hurt hatchlings, but that's not enough to make me feel comfortable."

"You're absolutely right," Cynder immediately agreed. "For someone so young I'd have expected you to be pretty naïve."

"That's what happens when you've lived a majority of your life all by yourself where everything around is either trying to kill you or eat you. I would know, I've had my fair share of encounters," Tango grunted with aversion. "And don't insult me by calling me naïve! I'm young, you got points there, but I'm not stupid."

"She didn't mean it that way, Tango," Spyro calmed. "If she insulted you, I apologize for that. She's still kind of new to the whole talking with the little ones." He took her paw in his and squeezed gently. "We both are. But once you get to know Cynder, you can't help but notice how good of a dragon she actually is."

Tango tilted his head at their interaction, getting a weird fuzzy feeling in his chest. Is that what love looks like? Will I ever get that someday? He didn't realize that he was beginning to stare too intently. "Sorry! Got caught in the moment."

"Don't worry about it. When you set your eyes on a pretty dragoness, you can't help but stare." Spyro continued, his voice gentle. "So, tell me Tango, what's a little drake like yourself doing all alone out here in these dangerous woods? Where are your parents? They must be worried sick. You do have parents, don't you?"

Tango felt intimidated by the question. He had the answers, didn't have the confidence of broadcasting them. "Um…. I…. uh…. well….um," he stammered, feeling more discomfort. He felt intimidated by their size, even from a distance they made him feel like he was the size of a newborn. It made his heart pound against his rib cage when he realized that either one of them could swallow him whole with zero difficulty.

Cynder could see the distress in his eyes. "I think we're scaring him," she whispered to Spyro. "We are probably the first dragons he's ever seen besides himself. He already seems stressed as it is. Let's not frighten him."

Spyro barely nodded response. "Let's make ourselves seem smaller than we are. He's definitely overwhelmed by our size. The little sprout is half the size I was when I first left the swamps with Sparx." The purple drake slowly laid down on the ground, dropping his height significantly by a few feet. Cynder followed suit.

"I'm sorry if we scare you, Tango," Cynder apologized sweetly. "But you don't have to worry anymore. We don't have the audacity of hurting a child, especially one as young as you. How old are you exactly?"

Tango shuddered. "I-it's okay. I just…. I've never seen another dragon in the flesh before. My mind was starting to play some evil tricks on me right there. I didn't know how big we got. I'm seven years old."

"Believe me," Spyro chuckled. "I'm small compared to some of the larger dragons back home." If Tango's scales could go pale, that's what they'd be like right now. "But of course, they are all very nice dragons and dragoness's. Many are our friends, some even feel like family."

"What about your family, Tango?" Cynder asked, trying to move on to another subject.

Tango swallowed the massive lump forming in his throat. He wasn't ready to answer that question just yet. "If I tell you something, can I know something…. about you?" The black dragoness nodded. "Well…. I've lived under this outcropping my entire seven years of life, but I haven't been alone the whole time. I never learned how to fly, and I guess I can say that I'm smart enough to get by pretty well without getting myself killed."

The two older dragons smirked at his slight bit of humor. "For one so young, you do have at least a sense of hilarity. Now, what would you like to know? We're an open book, ask away."

"Where are you from exactly? I don't ever see dragons in these parts," Tango asked blatantly.

Spyro was the one who answered. He went into detail about their home, the dragon city of Warfang. He went into further about the many amenities the city offered and how it housed thousands of dragons from across the entire realms. When Tango asked how something so significant could even be possible, Spyro answered merely, "It was made by moles."

"Moles?" Tango answered, his voice drenched in disbelief. "How could something so small create something that big? Especially an entire city, which I presume is immense."

"If you were to stand in the center of the city, you could walk five miles in any direction before hitting the huge walls that border it," Cynder added. "While it took the moles many, many years to accomplish such a feat, it was well worth it in the long run. The relationship between moles and dragons are much stronger than they used to be. Of course, Spyro and I are too young to know what the past was like before."

"How old are you?" Tango asked, trying not to come off as rude.

"We're both thirty-eight," Spyro replied, unfazed by the question. "Back to the previous question we asked, you said that you haven't been alone out here your whole life, but you also said you've never seen dragons around here. So, who else have you known in your life?"

Tango winced at the question, like it had struck a nerve that had long since been buried. "About two years ago, give or take a couple of months, I met an elderly mole wandering aimlessly throughout the woods while I was trying to hunt. The silly old lady scared off a rabbit. I had been starving for days and I about ate her." Tango smirked, pointing at a scar on his chest. "While she was small and frail, old Flower packed a nasty punch with that cane she carried around."

"Flower? Was that her name?" Cynder asked.

Tango nodded. "That's what she called herself, but at the time, I had never spoken a word in my life. Her language was unusual to me. Until I met Flower, I had been using clicks, pops, whistles and any other sounds I could make with my mouth; mimicking the sounds of birds and small animals. I got pretty good at it, being able to call my food to me. But after being around her for only a few moments, I knew that I wanted to learn from her."

"You convinced someone to teach you a new language with a language that only you knew? That's pretty impressive. What did you do?" Spyro asked.

"I sat down in front of her and made myself seem confused when she spoke, but I stared at her with curiosity. I guess it worked because she made herself at home here in this outcropping and got right to work teaching me. I'll admit the first couple of weeks were frustrating for the both of us, but I was able to scrounge up my first sentence and answer simple yes or no questions."

"What was your first sentence?"

"I is tired, so I is going to sleep," Tango snickered. "Speaking fluently now, I understand how stupid that sounds, but it's a good laugh."

"Better than most hatchlings," Cynder agreed. "They just say their name and whatever they want like, 'Cynder food or Spyro play.' Little simplistic combinations of two words that parents have to figure out because they often times mean a completely different thing."

"She's not wrong. The little ones tend to be the biggest handfuls and are extremely picky," Spyro said. "Would you mind if we moved a little closer? I feel like I have to shout to speak to you." Tango nodded, and both dragons rose their feet slowly and cut the distance to Tango in half before laying back down.

Cynder immediately saw the cut on his neck and her gaze filled with worry. "You're hurt!"

Tango knew she was talking about the cut on his neck. She must have seen the pink flesh that hadn't yet scabbed over. He immediately tried to cover the cut but failed miserably. "It's nothing," he insisted. "I've taken care of it. It's fine."

Cynder immediately closed the gap between them, startling Tango who lashed out with an outstretched paw, his claws poised to injure. She avoided his sudden lashing out and looked closer at his wound where his hand wasn't covering "Nothing is never fine," she asked inquisitively. "How on earth did you get a cut like this? It's a perfect slash, like it was made with a knife or really sharp claws."

Tango removed his paw and let Cynder look at it better. "Walked into the woods, got attacked by something, got scratched slashed or whatever you say it to be, got the heck out of there with my life still intact. Why you some doctor?" He rolled his eyes.

Cynder shook her head as he rolled his eyes. "No, but I have a little bit of medical experience to know that your wound is going to become infected if I don't treat it. You didn't clean it properly either. Do you have any red healing crystals?'

"Sure, just let me consult with the imaginary cave of crystals and see if I can get some," Tango said, his body tense. Cynder was becoming too close for comfort. "Guess he's not available at the moment, sorry, come back again later. No, I don't have any red healing crystals. You know how hard those things are to come by in these woods? I'm lucky if I can find a decent patch of them, but I have to use them because I get hurt from the things that lurk in the forest."

Spyro snickered at the shocked look on Cynder's face but screwed his mouth shut when she gave him a silencing glare. He still stifled a laugh, which she promptly whacked him over the head with her tail blade causing a protest from Spyro.

"Hey!" Spyro exclaimed, rubbing his head. "What was that for? That hurt."

"Oh, quit your whining, you're a big baby," Cynder countered. "I barely touched you."

"See what I have to deal with, Tango?" Spyro whispered, which earned him another hit in the head. "I almost envy your lifestyle. No crazy dragoness's to deal with."

"Who are you calling crazy?" They were young adult dragons, and Tango couldn't but let his muzzle drag a smile out of him. He loathed their back and forth banter, occasionally letting out a chuckle. Cynder couldn't help but feel fonder of Tango's smile. "You know….. you remind me of someone very close to my heart."

"Who….. me?" Tango questioned, pointing a single claw at himself.

"Stay right there," Cynder nodded and moved to stand by her mate. "Doesn't he remind you of someone?"

Spyro looks at her with a confused look. "What do you mean? I don't follow."

Cynder dipped her head back at Tango. "Just look at him," she said, softly.

The purple scaled drake shifted his gaze back to Tango and looked at him intently. The little drake held a modest posture, and he couldn't help but notice the kindness in his young eyes. The electric dragon looked directly into his eyes and smiled brightly. The realization finally hit Spyro, and he smiled back at Tango.

"He reminds me of Avala," Spyro breathed, looking at his mate. "The body language is strikingly similar and the way he smiles and looks at you. How he holds himself high and confident. Same level of intelligence and sarcasm too. I see my little girl."

"I noticed it too," Cynder grinned. "But not in the same way. Did you notice how he backed up as far away from us as possible and observed his environment? He saw the entrance and the roof almost immediately. He about gave me a decent slash across my muzzle. We're lucky he let us get closer by building that trust."

Spyro was in complete disbelief. "Just like I had taught Avala. By the ancestors, how did I not see it?"

Tango had been eavesdropping on the two older dragons the entire time. The way they looked at him with their penetrating eyes sent an unusual new feeling up and down his body making his skin crawl. But his pettiness created more questions, and he knew which one to start with.

"Who is Avala?"

Spyro sighed. "I told you that you were never good at whispering." He nuzzled Cynder good-humoredly.

"Maybe I wanted him to hear us," Cynder sniggered, nuzzling him under his chin only to stop at the sound of Tango clearing his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt your rather intimate moment, but I have a question to ask you," Tango began, his voice stern. "Who is Avala?"

"Fair enough," Spyro beamed a smile. "Avala….. is my, I mean, our daughter," he opened. "A beautiful little ice dragoness a little bigger than you and older by about a year. Sweetest little thing that girl. Super smart and friendly to everyone she meets. Loves being with us every single day."

"So why isn't she here?"

Cynder stepped forward. "Believe me. The little stinker wanted nothing more than to accompany us on this journey. She always did have that adventurous little spirit from the moment she hatched. Little troublemaker would get stuck up in high places or in nooks and crannies we always had to coax her out of. The little terrorist was a tough negotiator."

"That doesn't answer my question, Cynder," Tango added respectfully. "You said she was adventurous so why not let her come with you on this adventure?"

"She's only eight-and-a-half years old, Tango," Spyro answered. "It's far too dangerous out here for one so small and young. The only time she ever leaves the city walls is when she is with us, but we dare not take her further than the Valley of Avalar."

"But I've lived out here all my life," Tango inquired. "And I've managed to get by just fine. What difference is it between her and me?"

"She wasn't born into this life, Tango. She doesn't fully understand what evil things lurk beyond what she knows to be safe. You, on the other hand, you've lived amongst that evil your entire life. You've had to adapt and overcome obstacles no hatchling should ever have to overcome. Your life has been an everlasting battle which seems to have no end."

"I'm sorry for sounding brash. My people skills aren't exactly up to par with that of others," Tango said apologetically. "Your methods don't seem to make much sense to me, but I won't inquire further about it. I've already heard enough."

"Do not worry, little one," Spyro nodded his understanding. "You have been following what your heart is telling you. I cannot blame you for how you are feeling. Being out here in the wilderness has seemed to have a positive effect."

"How's that?"

"It has made you wise," Cynder rejoined. "For a dragon your age, it is not very easy to come by. In many years, you may be as wise as some of the elders in Warfang." She bowed her head in respect.

Tango smiled at the gesture, but a cold feeling wash over him. He shook his head, and it seemed to disappear. "You mentioned the Valley of Avalar earlier? What is that?"

"It's the land where the cheetahs live. A smart, strong, and cunning people. Stand as tall as my shoulder, covered head to tail in spotted fur, and they walk on two legs. They live in small villages and choose to live off the land only taking what they need to survive. Crafting their tools, using plants and herbs as medicine, and building their shelters. In a way, you are like them even if your methods are a little unorthodox."

"What's wrong with my methods?"

"Sorry to be blunt, but you aren't the best at conserving the heat of your fire or building shelter that will keep you warm. We were lucky enough to find you in time, or else you may have died," Spyro said, a thin trace of humor in his words.

"Yeah…. I guess you have a point." Tango once again felt the bitter feeling envelop him. This time, he felt a little light headed and his paws stumbled slightly, barely keeping him upright. He felt cold shivers across his body, but his scales were warm to the touch. He felt a hand touch his shoulder, seeing Cynder standing over him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

Tango nodded his head but saw his vision fade to black as blood rushed to his head. "I'm fine, just a little headache," he lied, hoping they didn't see through it. "And about my methods. They are my own, but Flower never seemed to mind them. She was warm each night and didn't complain about a little wind."

"I think she was lying to you," Spyro joked. "My friend, Hunter, would shame me indefinitely if he ever saw me build something like you have here. He's a cheetah from Avalar. Great warrior and an even better friend."

"Ouch," Tango said, trying to sound hurt. "If you send me his information, I'm sure I can learn a thing or two. But I do what I have here to get by even if it tries to kill me."

"Just pointing out a defect," Spyro defended. "Can't help myself sometimes. Sorry for being too frank."

Tango could see that he was being genuine instead of trying to pour more salt into the open wound. Flower had taught him many things, including how to read people's actions and emotions in their basic forms.

"Before you said that you made your first sentence, what happened after that?" Cynder asked easing the obvious tension between the two.

"After a couple of more months of her teaching me, I slowly started to speak in her tongue better and better with each passing day. My sentences made more sense, they flowed better, and I could carry on a conversation for a while until she smacked me with a word I'd never heard before. And then she actually smacked me with her cane. Silly dragon with silly questions, was what she told me each and every time."

"Sounds like every elderly dragon I've ever met," Spyro smirked. "Good sense of humor, but still intimidating and violent enough to put the fear of the ancestors in the toughest dragons. Plus, they're tough as nails."

"And she was tough," Tango said, his eyes down casted to the ground. The sad memory playing in his mind.

"Was?"

Tango took a deep shuddered breath, the weird cold feeling making another appearance before disappearing. "She lived here with me for six months. Taught me everything I know about the world, and I was glad that I had met someone like her. In that moment, I had found someone I could call family." A tear began forming in his eye. "She passed away peacefully in her sleep. Never had I felt that kind of loss. I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to be happy? Sad? Angry? Disappointed?"

Cynder placed a paw on his shoulder. "You could have felt all of those emotions. You could have been happy that you finally got to have the feeling of family, sad, maybe angry, that she died unexpectantly, and disappointed that you couldn't learn anymore of her wisdom. You were lucky enough to have her in your life. You'll remember this mentor for the rest of your life."

"I didn't even get to tell her thank you or how grateful I was," Tango whispered. "But I did let her know when I buried her in the same place where I first met her. It was the least she deserved for all that she had done for me."

"I had a mentor just like her," Spyro said tenderly. "The first dragon I ever met in my life had to tell me what I was before anything. I thought I was a dragonfly for the first fifteen years of my life until I had met Ignitus." He was glad to see a smile form on the young drake's face. "But in his teachings, I was introduced to a whole new light about the world that I lived in and I would do anything to protect it. And in it, I found love." He stared into his mates eyes, seeing the same old love hadn't skipped a beat.

Tango watched the loving glances they exchanged, the fuzzy feeling tickling him in the stomach. But he felt the cold feeling immediately wash over him. His legs buckled forward, and he fell into Cynder's open arms, his entire body shook fiercely. "Yeah, I think there is something wrong with me?" His voice chattered through shaking teeth.

Cynder moved her paws up and down his body. "By the ancestors, Tango, you're burning up. Red crystals won't help sickness, only wounds. You need herbs. Spyro! Look around for borage leaves, feverfew, or even some lavender. They'll ease his fever. I'm going to try and keep him warm." Her voice seemed panicked and stressed.

Without another word, Spyro left the shelter of the outcropping.

"Cynder, I'm fine," Tango coughed, attempting to stand up. He failed miserably as he was kept down.

Without hesitation, Cynder pressed him against her belly and curled herself around him. She knew that he would protest, but her motherly instincts knew she was doing the right thing. That her body would keep him warm, so his fever didn't become something worse. "I know this may seem a little weird, but you have to trust me, okay?"

Tango didn't get off a response as the warmth radiated off her body directly into his. He could feel the clash of temperatures raging war between them. His body continued to tremble as he could only think of the way she had spoken to him. It was a complete shock to him that a stranger was helping him battle his sickness.

Cynder twisted her head around and looked down upon him. "Why didn't you say anything? We could have helped you."

"I thought I could beat the sickness," Tango answered, his voice hoarse. "I can see that I was wrong about that."

Cynder smiled. "I can see your sense of humor doesn't go away no matter the conditions. It's a good quality to have."

"Helps me get through the tough times since I don't have Flower with me anymore," Tango said. "I miss her so much."

"I know," Cynder reassured. "But she is in a better place and she is watching over you. Those little voices in your head is her advice and knowledge speaking to you. No matter what, she'll live on because of your memory of her."

"Thanks, Cynder," Tango whispered.

"I want you to try and rest for a little bit. There is no telling when Spyro will be back, and I don't want to pass them up the opportunity to let you get some sleep. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Tango peered up at her and nodded his head shakily. "Cynder?"

"Yes."

"I-I'm scared! I've never felt this sick before in my life. It feels worse than a fever."

Cynder gently wrapped her tail snuggly around him, "You'll be okay, I promise. It's probably just some after-effects from earlier."

"When I fall asleep, will you stay with me?" His voice begged. "I've been alone without anyone for over a year, but right now I can't stand the possibility of dying alone."

"You're not going to die, Tango," she said softly. "I'll be right here until you wake up. Get some rest okay."

A tear welled in his eyes, and Tango let out a deep sigh. He looked up at her one more time, and for the first time since Flower died, he felt the love and affection he had been withheld from since she left the world. He could see the love in her eyes as she leaned down and pressed her forehead against his cheek. Her soft touch left a grin on his face as he rested his head against her tail.

She watched him with the same love she had for her daughter, Avala. Cynder could feel something in her heart open and, in its place, she could handle this new love fill the spot in her heart. Letting out a silent yawn, she laid her head on her paws and draped a wing over the precious bundle against her belly. No matter what, come dawn, she was taking Tango home with her. She needed him as much as he needed them. A new chapter was beginning in her life, and the first few sentences were about him.

"Welcome to the family, little one," she whispered before allowing the peacefulness of sleep wash over her.

A/N: Well, I hope you liked it. I spent so much time writing it and trying to infuse it with as much detail as I could muster. In terms of updating this story, I'm not set on a solid schedule yet. If you've been on my author page, you will learn that I am indeed in the military and the military keeps me busy. So updates might be spaced for between months. I'll try my best though. Again, I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like to leave a review, feel free. Like I said up top, I can't demand anything of you.

Thanks again and I'll catch you on the flip side!

Atlas FF Out!