The world came back into color. As the sun rose from behind the curvature, a purple dragon did as well. Spyro stood up and shook his head, which felt thick and heavy… maybe he could sleep for a while longer. He fell back onto his stomach to lie in the finite sand and closed his eyes. Silence was good, it helped him sleep.

Gradually, and much to his disappointment, noises did come to him. The crickets were a sharp buzz that threatened a headache, while the birdsong helped to sooth the call to attention. He sighed and murmured: “I’m up, I’m up, ok?”

So maybe he wouldn’t go back to sleep. With a groan, he arched his back and stretched, yawning as he did so. When he rose to his full size, he looked out over the rising sun and was struck dumb by its beauty. Its blazing face had cast a patchwork-like stain glass-across the sky.

Driven into a reflective silence as the sun cast her light across the gloomy landscape, Spyro observed the shadows of trees and rocks leaning to accommodate. This made him smile and imagine that right beneath his claws, a whole land of shadows was waking up as well.

In an instant the sun glared in his eyes, forcing him to look away, and in his mind another shadow was cast. A shadow of another. His kind? What was he again? A dragon, yes, he was a dragon. This shadow was beyond the world he knew, in some place on the horizon line that might not even exist. The coast was all he knew, and all he needed to know.

In a slow walk, Spyro began to make his way to the shore. For seconds, even the crickets faded as the noise of the sand crunching under his weight drowned out all else. A step forwards. For those few, precious seconds, the sand was all he knew. Another step. Every grain he could feel; the subtle life of sand was so simple. They inspired Spyro to forget the shadow cast in his mind for the time being, and replace it with sand. Two more steps. A shrill scream of: “Spyro!” snapped him out of his head-space, and back into reality.

He realized, with a start that he was only one step away from tumbling into the sky. The sight confused him, as he realized that the sunrise colored the area beneath, as well as above. Instead of water at the coastline, it was light. Spyro fancied the sand he stood on to be the top of a disk in mid flight, where underneath, empty space resided.

Minding his safety, he turned tail and retreated back to where he came. In front of him now, a forest of staggering variety told him that there was more to be seen amidst their limbs; that his world did not only consist of sand and sky, but of grass, and vines and leaves and fragrance.

Further ahead, a large mountain rose: Its peak was rounded and it’s sides were lumpy. A strange mountain made of pure black stone. Curiosity filled the dragon, and he decided that he would leave the known coastline to wander into the unknown. With boldness removing the meekness in his heart, he began to walk, and at each step forwards, that shadowy image still lingering in his conscience began to acquire a blush of purple-red.

<<<<>>>>

He’d lived here forever, right? Spike tapped his head against the rough bark of a coconut tree. Even if he hadn’t, this was the only place he knew. The young dragon was torn. Today, there on the horizon, he had caught a new shade of color: Lavender. At first it was meaningless, a mere part of the splendid sunrise. Everything was clockwork here: The day was always slightly cloudy, the night always had two disproportioned moons and was always clear, and the sunrise was always saturated and filled with hot colors. So to see lavender-a particular shade meant only for the night-in the looming sky sent the poor dragon reeling. What’s worse, it had ushered an image into his mind, one that did well teasing him with a memory on the very fringe of his conscience.

He needed to walk, and maybe through such an act draw a greater conclusion as to who or what the image in his mind really was. Brushing a spider web out of his way, he began to follow a winding trail that took him deeper into the forest. When at long last the coastline disappeared from his view, the true extent of the forest pressed in around him. Trees lean over ominously, clawing at the blue sky, promising fathomless darkness. The birdsong became aggressive, and the crickets roared in his ear canal, screaming at him to return. He did not feel welcome here, and as he pushed onward, that idea became further and further stressed. Clearly, he would not find answers in the forest.

Just as he was about to turn back, the noise of stone scratching on stone made him freeze. His heart missed a beat, and his thoughts filled with a million horrifying images. A monster grinding his bloody blade against a rock, sharpening it so fine that it could split a hair; it’s head filled with dark thoughts of how a dragon’s pelt would look good over his fireplace…

With a yelp, Spike turned and ran, heading back down the path from whence he came. Behind him, the grinding stopped, only to be replaced seconds later by the sound of pursuit. Wailing freely now, Spike ran on, afraid to look behind him. And still, tirelessly, the monster of unspeakable terror ran after him, trailing its prey so that it could run it to the ground and eat it! Oh, Spike would be roasting over a fire by evening! Bursting out and onto the coastline, the warm kiss of the sun-warmed sand rose to meet him. His heart stilled enough for him to turn, but what he saw threatened to make him faint. There, crashing out of the forest line was a huge black beast; four times his size, and with fangs sharp enough to devour him whole!

Towards him the monster stalked, trying to take Spike off guard with reassuring coos... he wouldn’t be fooled. Maintaining his distance, he kept ten paces between him and the monster at all times, casting glances to his left and right in search of a weapon. Nothing, the sand was smooth and flawless. Suddenly, the beast stopped. In turn, so did Spike.

“I’m too tough. You won’t enjoy me, I swear,” Spike pleaded, tearing up.

As he prepared to take another step back, he was stopped mid action by a rather startling hiss from the beast, followed by an exaggerated shake of its head.

“Oh, you think I’m good to eat?” Why else would the monster be shaking his head other than in disagreement? “Well then, I’ll have you know that won’t go down without a fight.”

As the monster began to creep towards him, Spike readied his plan. Steeling his nerves and gritting his teeth, the young dragon waited. His idea was simple: Once the monster came into a reasonable distance, he’d fling sand in its face and run around it. Only a step more and the beast would come into range… there! Jumping backwards with a triumphant shout, Spike flung a cloud of sand up. Instead of landing on the beach, however, he fell into open space.

The last thing he saw before tumbling over the edge of the world was the monster jumping after him. And then he was no longer falling, and the beast had its jaws over his foot, and the infinite void spread to surround him on all sides but up, and he blacked out.

<<<<>>>>

It was here on the beach that Spyro found the ungainly pair of child and monster; one was unconscious, while the other, frowning, spread a protective wing over it’s still form. As he approached, the monster-no, not monster but black dragon-hissed, cautioning him to keep away. At the accusation, Spyro raised his front paws innocently and swore he was here only in good intent.

The black dragon-a male from the looks of it-seemed to understand. Though unable to respond vocally, the point was driven home as he nodded slowly and raised his wing. The full body of whatever it was protecting was revealed: It was a purple dragon-another male-much like Spyro, but smaller and with no horns. His tail was pointed, while a delicate ridge of green spines divided the young’uns form symmetrically.

“What happened to him? Is he dead?” Spyro asked, fearing the worst.

The black dragon shook his head and looked over his shoulder dramatically to the edge of the beach.

“What? There’s nothing but empty sky in all directions over there. Trust me, I almost fell off.”

As Spyro uttered that last sentence, the black dragon pointed to the unconscious Spike before nodding vigorously.

“Sorry, what about ‘almost fell off?’” Spyro clarified.

Again, more insistently, the black dragon motioned towards Spike. Blushing at his ignorance, Spyro said: “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.”

With a groan of frustration, the black dragon looked heavenward and fell heavily to the beach, defeated. Spyro was about to try another attempt to get the story when a soft groan drew his attention to the child who had only seconds before lay unconscious. Startled or surprised, the black dragon sprung up as well to gaze intently at the stirring purple dragon.

“Ugh, what happened?” Spike murmured.

As he opened his eyes, the monster that had been hunting him before loomed above, blocking out the sky. With a startled yelp, Spike wormed his way backwards before getting up woozily and crashing into Spyro.

“Monster! Get it away from me!” Spike pleaded, throwing Spyro in the way as the black dragon rose to its full length and sighed despairingly.

“Hey, get a hold of yourself, kid!” Spyro scolded, catching Spike by the tail as he ran past.

“Let go of me!” Spike panicked, tugging on his tail in an attempt to be free of Spyro’s iron jaws.

“Just calm down, that’s not a monster. When I came he was protecting you!” Spyro exclaimed, tugging Spike to the sand before releasing his tail.

“He… he was?” Spike faltered, allowing himself to consider this other dragon’s claim. “How do you know? Last time I checked he was chasing me through the forest.”

“I just know, alright. Think back,” in saying that, Spyro thought back as well to the story he was trying to get from the black dragon.

“Does ‘almost falling off something’ ring a bell to you… what’s your name?”

“Spike and no, I don’t think—” The young dragon cut himself off in mid-sentence before bringing a claw to his chin. “Now that you say so, ah, it’s hard for me to remember but… OH!”

As the recollection finally came back to Spike, Spyro jumped at the sudden change in volume.

“What? What is it?” Spyro pressed.

“He. He saved me.” The line ended in a whisper. “I would have… fallen if… if…”

As quickly as fear had tinged Spike’s purple cheeks, shame flooded in to replace, and he shook his head before gazing up at the black dragon.

“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted on impulse.”

From the way the black dragon smiled-revealing two rows of toothless gums-and bowed graciously, Spike knew that he had been forgiven. Happy to have avoided a real conflict, Spyro turned to address Spike once again now that things had settled.

“I don’t blame you, you know. He’s a pretty intimidating dragon. I wish he could talk with us, though.” Both Spike and Spyro turned to the black dragon, who closed his eyes in sincerity and nodded once, slowly. It was clear that he wished the same as well.

“At least he can understand us,” Spike countered, finding the silver lining.

“At least he can understand us,” Spyro repeated. “Yes, that’s true. Ah, but I have a question for you, Spike.”

“Oh?”

“Did you see another dragon, primarily black with a bit of red, go by here? I’ve been looking for most of the morning now and I was just wondering…” he trailed off.

“No, the only other dragon I’ve ran into so far is you, Spyro. Oh, and blacky over there, of course,” Spike added as an afterthought.

The black dragon gave a hiss of disgust and stomped one of his paws into the sand.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. Dragon. I just don’t know your name, I guess,” Spike admitted feebly. “Might you be able to show, or tell, or something?”

The black dragon nodded and readied himself for the charade. Spyro sat down beside Spike and prepared to interpret.

Keeping still, the black dragon pointed to his mouth.

“Muzzle? Maw?” Spyro blurted, taking a few shots in the dark.

The dragon shook his head.

“Chin? Scales? Oh, oh, Scaly! Is your name Scaly?” Spike asked.

Hitting his forehead with one of his paw, the black dragon shook his head and tried again. Opening his muzzle he showed the pair his gaping maw.

“Saliva… Silvia? Wait, that’s more like a female’s name.” Spyro set his jaw and looked quizzically onwards.

The black dragon shook his head.

“Gums? Gummy?” Spike tired.

The name Gummy did ring a bell, which Spike found particularly interesting, but he was quickly distracted as he continued to try and solve the charade.

‘No’

As a cat might sheath and unsheathe it’s claws, the black dragon began to do the same with his teeth.

“Teeth? Toothy? Fang?” Spyro asked.

‘No’

“Full of teeth, teeth only around sometimes…the opposite…” Spike murmured to himself, lapsing into reflective silence. “Tooth… Toothless?”

Spyro, on the other hand, had since begun to draw a circle into the sand with one of his claws, meditating on the same actions that Spike had.

“Toothless, is your name Toothless?” Spike asked, afraid that his answer might be wrong and yet expecting it to be all at the same time.

Spyro looked up to see the verdict. The black dragon’s eyes ignited. Letting out what could be called a whoop, he swung down and wrapped the purple dragon in a hearty wing-hug.

“It’s Toothless, Spyro! That’s his name,” Spike exclaimed, allowing a shock of excitement to rampage through his body.

On the beach three dragons stood, laughing and conversing. The sun rose to its highest in the sky, and gazed down on the estranged trio with hopeful vibrancy. Ahead, a dark and twisted path lay for the three friends; hidden marvelously by the fabricated horizon line and the evil moon.

Author's Notes:

17/09/2013

I'm back!

Expect a chapter every week, folks! And for those who stuck around even after my few months of inactivity, thanks for waiting!

~Syn3rgy