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Dark Hollow had no business being so peaceful. The wind rustled softly through oak trees and well-kept hedges, spreading rust-red leaves over the grass. The lanterns were all lit and bathed the old bookshelves in a warm glow, illuminating all the dark little corners the setting sun couldn't reach. Autumn had turned the meadow red, orange and yellow. Had Flame not hated the place so, he would have wanted to whip out a canvas and start painting. As it was, he just wanted to leave.

Further up, he could see the walls of the inner sanctum, where Spyro's little sleeping nest had been, and above it, the arcs of the portal homeworld reaching over the walls. The same portal Spyro had used to leave.

Ashes walked silently beside him, trying her hardest not to ask any of the thousands of questions that must have been bouncing around between her horns. She had probably figured out that those "bad memories" Flame had mentioned had something to do with Spyro. But she couldn't make sense of it, because "bad" didn't fit the image of Spyro she had in her head. The image of a dragon who saved Flame from that well, got the bullies of his tale and took him under his wing. In that story, bad memories didn't factor in. Of course, she didn't know how abruptly that story had ended, and how quickly good memories could become bad ones after years of waiting, doubting yourself and asking again and again what was real and what wasn't.

Predictably, her curiosity got the better of her. "So, I'm not gonna ask what happened here, but there was something else I've been wondering... Can I ask?"

Flame nodded his okay.

"There is one thing I don't understand... If you guys were so close, why didn't you follow him to the Forgotten Realms?"

Even though Flame had anticipated that question since he first told Ashes about Spyro, hearing it now still felt like a punch to the gut.

"Well..." he cleared his throat. "It's not like I didn't consider going with him, but you know, I couldn't just leave. I got things going on here..." He kicked a stone in front of him, ignoring Ashes confused look.

"So, you didn't want to go with him?"

Flame shrugged. "It's not that I didn't want to, it's just..." He scrambled to think of something. "you know, I'd be leaving behind all my friends..." Except you didn't have any friends... "and I'd really miss my family..." the family that you hate... "And I thought he'd be back soon."

That last part was true. Spyro had said he'd be back. He had promised it.

"Besides," he added, "After Spyro left, the elders stationed guards by the portals. And even if I had snuck through, finding a single dragon in the Forgotten Realms would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

"Oh... I understand," Ashes said. Of course, Flame could see that she very clearly didn't understand at all, and he couldn't blame her either. Even to himself, that answer made no sense. But it was better than the truth, that Spyro had left and Flame still didn't know why. Flame should have denied even knowing the dragon when Ashes first asked about Spyro. How simpler things would be if he only kept his big mouth shu...

smack

His horns shook as he walked straight into one of the old bookshelves. He looked up to see the old structure wobble a little before a torrent of books came raining down on him. One of them landing right on his nose. "Ouch! DAMMIT ALL!" he yelled, in equal parts anger and embarrassment. Why did he always have to be so clumsy?

Ashes appeared next to him almost instantly. "You okay?" she asked, her voice not unlike what you might hear from a mother having just watched her hatchling trip over his own tail.

"I'm fine..." he growled. He picked up one of the closest books and was just about to put it back on the shelf when he saw something that made him freeze. He recognized that book. Specifically, he recognized the artwork on the cover.

It was a picture of two dragons, a red and a blue one, cuddled up tightly under a big moon. The dragoness's head was pressing up against the other dragon's chin and the other dragon rested his chin on her head. They both looked like all they wanted in the world was to be as close to each other as possible, and the image brought back a torrent of memories.

First of all, he remembered a younger version of himself perusing through this bookshelf, one boring evening in Dark Hollow. He had been waiting for Spyro and the book cover had caught his attention. He remembered how he had skipped through most of the book, but found the cover captivating. So much so that he decided to paint his own version, only with himself and Spyro instead, exactly the kind of thing a stupid, lovestruck dragonet would do. But then again, he didn't have much else to do that evening but to wait for Spyro. And anything was better than just waiting.

Back then, getting the purple dragon out of his head had been impossible. Ever since they had been brought closer by all the training and exploring. Ever since the sleepover in Dark Hollow...

His second memory was of that sleepover, and the morning afterward, and how surreal it had felt to wake up in Spyro's arms, cradled like a little hatchling.

The first sign that something was different that morning came when he opened his eyes to a clear blue sky, rather than the cave roof he was used to. Then there was the delightful warmth around his back, and the claws on his chest holding him close. With a jerk, he realized that Spyro was cuddling him, the memories of last night not quite back yet. But the still sleeping Spyro didn't like when he moved. He let out a low whine and pulled Flame's body close.

Flame kept still as he watched the smile return to Spyro's muzzle. Meanwhile, the memories of last night started to return and his stomach filled with butterflies.

His friend purred while he slept, just like he had done last night. But now and then, he would snort in his sleep, his wings and tail would twitch, and Flame realized with amusement that Spyro was probably dreaming about gliding, or chasing gnorcs. And then he would calm down, pull Flame closer and the purring would restart. It was surreal, seeing him like this. So still, when usually he was always on the move, off to some great adventure, fighting or collecting gems.

He had never been so close to another dragon before, except possibly his mother when he was a hatchling, but this was a whole different thing, and it was at once terrifying and comforting. What confused him the most were those weird feelings rushing through him, an odd, fuzzy warmth that attached itself to his chest and made him want to press back against his friend as he could, close his eyes and stay right where he was.

Is this what friendship was supposed to feel like? Whatever it was, Flame decided to enjoy it while it lasted. He would probably have fallen asleep all over again if it wasn't for Spyro yawning and stretching his wings behind him a little while later, finally awake.

His eyes lit up when he spotted Flame. "Oh hi, dude. Slept well?"

Flame nodded quickly. He watched Spyro as he got up on all fours, then bowed down with his butt in the air for a good stretch. "Is it noon already?" he asked, looking up at the sun high in the sky. "Oh boy, I haven't slept like this since I was hatchling! We should do this every night!" he said, beaming at Flame.

"Oh, ehm, you mean doing this every night?" he asked, trying to hold back his excitement at the prospect of doing just that. Just thinking about it made that warm feeling spread in his chest again. "I guess that sounds okay..."

"Maybe we can stay at your place next time? I've always wanted to know what sleeping in a cave is like, or any place with a real roof, really. And you could show me all your artwork!"

"No way!" Flame burst out, shaking his head. He shuddered at the thought of his mother walking in on him and Spyro curled up like a pair of hatchlings. He was pretty sure she would not approve. The idea of showing Spyro all his novice art was only slightly less frightening. "I mean, I think I'd rather just stick to Dark Hollow," he said.

"Oh? Well, you're always welcome here. Every night if you want! My casa es tu casa and all that."

Flame liked that idea. He liked it a lot. He'd happily forego his warm cave if it meant he could spend every night out here with Spyro. But then he remembered it was just temporary, that soon Spyro would be gone, and his heart sank to his stomach.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Spyro looked at him with a tilted head. "You got that sad face on you again." He had gotten remarkably good at discovering when something wasn't right with Flame lately.

"Oh, nothing." Flame said quickly. "I was just thinking maybe..." he cleared his throat. "Do you think that I could make it in the Forgotten Realms?"

"The Forgotten Realm?" Spyro gave him a confused look. "Thought you hated the distant realms."

"I do! Or well, maybe I could get used to them. I mean theoretically."

"Well..." Spyro sat back on his haunches and brushed a claw over his yellow frills. "Those realms are dangerous. You probably need a liiiitle bit more training before you're quite ready for a scene like that. Theoretically."

Flame nodded, disappointed even though he knew Spyro was right. He wouldn't survive two seconds in a place like the Forgotten Realms.

Spyro walked up to him, nudging at him with an encouraging smile. "Hey, cheer up. You'll be ready someday. We'll start by teaching you how to fly and then we can leave the other realms for after First Flight Day. How's that?"

"Sounds like a plan." Flame gave a faint smile. It seemed to satisfy the other dragon who grinned and pulled him close.

"Just picture it. Soaring from Dragonfly Peak together," he said, pointing his wing at the mountain in the distance. "You and me, as wingmates."

"I am," Flame said, a little nervously. "But it's only a week from now."

"A week is plenty of time. That's almost a hundred hours, right there."

Flame chuckled. "It's actually more like 168 hours."

"That's the spirit!" Spyro grinned and nuzzled Flame's cheek, so suddenly his heart skipped. "You'll have no problem learning how to fly," he promised. "You're the best student I've ever had."

"Thanks." Flame felt his chest warming with pride, the compliment only slightly lessened by the fact that he was Spyro's only student.

They walked home from Dark Hollow in no particular hurry. Well, Flame walked. Spyro flew most of the way. He wanted to show Flame the basics of flying, like taking off and using your wings to maneuver in the air. He showed Flame how to get a running start, reach enough speed and then launch himself into the air. "It's just like gliding with extra flapping," he promised, circling Flame. "I know you can't fly yet, but you can practice the wingbeats at home," he said, and Flame whipped out his sketchbook to take notes.

About halfway to the temple, Spyro remembered that he was supposed to meet Tomas there for breakfast. And breakfast was five hours ago. "I'll see ya later tonight, by the Delbin statue," he said before hurrying off. Then he stopped and hurried back. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. If you see your sis today, you let her know I'm not flying with her. You know, so she has time to find another wingmate."

Flame felt his heart drop. Oh yeah that... "I'll take care of it," he promised. Spyro smiled, gave him a quick hug and then he was off again, darting towards the temple grounds like a little purple arrow.

Flame watched him go, then continued down the main road to the village, smiling to himself all the way home. Something about the goofy dragon made it impossible to feel low, even when facing a daunting task like learning how to fly in a week.

He got home to his cave about an hour later, but he had barely gotten through the door before he met Ember's curious eyes.

"Alright, who's the dragon?" she asked, blocking his path with a wing. She had a mischievous glint in those eyes that Flame didn't care for at all, like she had figured him out.

He gulped nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Oh please, it's obvious... Don't think I haven't noticed you getting home late nearly every evening, all happy and giddy and humming to yourself, as if you got some great secret nobody knows about. You're clearly seeing someone."

"Oh ehm..." For a second, Flame almost considered telling her it was Spyro that he had been hanging out with all night, just to see the look on her face. But then he remembered about First Flight Day and felt very strongly that the less Ember knew about it the better.

He'd tell her later. Maybe. But not now. Not while she could still put a horn in his wheel. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not seeing anyone," he said, with an innocent shrug. "Just been a little busy lately, is all."

Ember regarded him skeptically. "Well, you're gonna need a better excuse than that for mom. She's been worried about ya. I had to tell her you were out stargazing again when you didn't come home last night."

Shit... Flame could get his sister off his tail, but mom would be harder. He needed to think of something. "I've been hanging out with uhm... Magnus."

"Magnus?" Ember gave him an odd look. "Elder dragon Magnus?"

Flame nodded. "Yeah. He's cool."

"Haha! That's so odd. What have you weirdos been doing then? Writing poetry or something?"

"Actually, ehm... yes! We're writing poetry. Haikus mostly. He says I'm getting really good."

Ember looked at him long and hard, and Flame's heart started beating faster and faster. Then she flopped back and burst out laughing. "My God Flame, you're hopeless".

Flame sighed in relief. "Yeah, I guess I am..."

"And here I was, thinking you might have a secret mate or something." Ember wiped a tear from her eyes with a wing. "I'll tell mom she needn't worry then, just don't make me cover for ya again."

With that, she was off, probably to see one of her friends. Flame watched her go, making sure she was well off before finally slipping into his room, which technically wasn't a room and just the innermost section of the cave. And it wasn't even all his, either. He shared it with his sister, but Mother had been kind enough to hang some old draperies between their two sides, giving the siblings at least a little privacy.

For the first time in months, he felt like painting. He fished his paints and tray out from under his bed. He mixed the flag red with the aquatic purple, then dipped his claw in the mix and brought it to the cave wall.

His usual motifs were different places on the island; a sunset over Dragon Shores or the volcano looming over the elder temple. Views that'd let him use as many colors as possible. Today, the only color he wanted to use was purple.

His first attempt to draw Spyro ended up looking more like a purple blob with two wings than a dragon. Flame didn't often like to draw dragons specifically because they were much harder to get right, but he wouldn't give up. He rubbed the blob-Spyro away with a sponge then started over. A dozen or so attempts later, he had a Spyro he was happy with. He was standing on a hill, striking a heroic pose and his yellow wings spread wide.

He sat back to admire his work. If he squinted he almost looked like the real Spyro.

He added a red dragon standing right next to the purple ones, with crimson-colored scales like his own. He painted more dragons, purple and red ones, soaring between platforms, flaming gnorcs and exploring the uncharted strangeness of The Forgotten Realms together. Wherever they went, they were always together. He was so lost in the process of painting the adventures of the two dragons, he didn't notice he wasn't alone until he heard a gasp behind him.

"Flame. What in all the realms are you doing?"

He turned around and there was Mother. And she did not look happy. "What is all this?" she asked, pointing with a claw at the wall dripping with dozens of little red and purple dragons. Her deep voice seemed to reverberate through the cave and through Flame who tried to make himself as small as possible.

"Just me and a, ehm... a friend," he said innocently.

"And why is this friend covering your room?"

"We were out of paper..."

His mother let out a sigh, a deep guttural sigh. "Flame, we've talked about this. You need to learn to think before you act. You need to start using your head. And who is this dragon friend of yours, anyway?"

Flame coiled his tail nervously, unsure whether it was best to lie or tell her the truth. For some reason, he didn't think that his mother would approve of him obsessing over Spyro like this, but he could hardly think of any good excuse as to why his wall would be covered with paintings of him.

"Well, he, err, I mean, the dragon is just a friend., and I have been hanging out for a while, and for some reason I can't stop thinking about us. So I started painting..."

His mother studied at him with a raised eyebrow and Flame felt his cheeks warm up instantly. He wondered if he had perhaps shared too much. "I'm sorry about the wall. I'll wash it off later..."

"Don't." His mother's expression had changed. From anger, it softened, forming something that almost looked like a smile. He had expected a rough scolding, but instead, the bigger dragon sat down next to Flame and wrapped her wing around him.

"We can leave it up a bit. Just let me know if that urge to paint comes back. I can get you more paper to paint on," she said. "And if you ask me, I think you should tell your friend how you feel."

Flame looked up. "You do?"

"Absolutely. It almost sounds like you might have a little bit of a crush on this dragon, and love isn't something you wanna keep bottled up inside." She reached down and nuzzled her son. "And who knows, maybe she feels the same way about you." And with that, she got up and walked out of his room with a wide grin on her snout.

Flame watched her leave with a relieved sigh. How it never occurred to mother that the only purple dragon on the island was Spyro, he would never know.

Flame sat in his room and thought about what his mother had said. That word she had used stuck in his head, on repeat, and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Love. He was in love. Just thinking about it made that warm, fuzzy feeling build up in his chest again, and what felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies take flight in his belly.

This explained so much. Like why he was always so clumsy around Spyro and why every little nudge or touch made his belly do flips and his heart kick into overdrive. He felt stupid for not thinking about it sooner.

It's not that he didn't know what love was. Magnus has had a whole lesson dedicated to the subject, the life force that brings dragons together. Flame had thought it sounded dumb, but what he was feeling now wasn't dumb at all. It was the best feeling he had ever felt. He wanted to tell the entire world and he also desperately wanted to keep it a secret. But he decided that he should at least tell Spyro.

He had to feel the same way, Flame was sure of it. Why else would he want to cuddle up with Flame like that? That's not really something regular friends do, or do they? Flame had never had a proper friend before so he wasn't sure.

And that reminded him that neither had Spyro. He had grown up in a old library, isolated from other dragons on the other side of the island, with nothing but the elders to keep him company. Did he even know what love was? The hugs and nudges could just be something he did to make Flame feel better without ever considering that they could be taken to mean something more. The night they had spent together could just be Spyro being cold.

But if Flame didn't say anything, Spyro would leave for the Forgotten Realms and the two would be several thousands of miles and one dimension apart. He'd see Spyro at most a few times a year. He'd be miserable, and Spyro would never even know why.

That settled it. Flame was going to follow Spyro to the Forgotten Realms. He'd tell Spyro that their deal was off, the plan aborted. That the elders would have some other dragonet to raise as their prophecy and defend the village.

He was sure Spyro would understand. Especially if Flame told him he was in love. Maybe he'd feel the same way. And Flame didn't care if he had to train every hour for every day in a year to be ready for the Forgotten Realms. He'd do whatever it takes. He just hoped that Spyro would wait for him.

The evening couldn't come fast enough for the young dragon. He paced around all day until finally the sun began to set and he could rush down to their old meeting place by Delbin's statue.

But once he finally got there, there was no Spyro in sight. But that wasn't unusual. He was often late. Flame laid down next to the statue to wait. He waited as the sun disappeared over the hills and the stars came out. He waited as the lanterns along the beach were lit and the moon rose over the elder's temple. And after that, he waited a little longer, but still no Spyro.

Where is he?

Maybe he had gone straight to Dark Hollow? It was certainly possible he meant for them to meet there, or maybe he'd gone to take a nap at his sleeping spot? But when Flame got to Dark Hollow, there was no Spyro there either. He wasn't by his sleeping spot, or the library or the garden.

And even though it was late, and even though mother and Ember would start to wonder where he was soon, Flame decided to return to the elder's temple. Maybe, just maybe Spyro would be there waiting for him now. And when Spyro wasn't outside on the courtyard, Flame thought that maybe he was inside the temple.

It took a fair bit of courage for Flame to walk up to the great temple gates and knock on the door. Not only was he not allowed on the elder's side of the island, he was especially not allowed inside or anywhere near the temple. When nobody opened, he gulped nervously and knocked again, a little harder.

He was just about to turn tail and leave when he heard the door finally creaked open and Tomas' blue, bearded mug peaked out. "Who's there?" he asked, looking around before spotting Flame below. He blinked several times before finally recognizing the dragon. "Flame... Is that you, my boy?"

He was wearing his golden amulet, which was polished to a gleam, indicating his status as the most senior elder. He had his reading glasses on and had some old scrolls in his talons.

"Ehm... yes," Flame said. "I'm sorry to be bothering you so late, elder Tomas, but I was looking for..."

"Flame! You know you're not allowed near the temple." Tomas gruffed, stomping his staff. "Are you lost again? Should I get your mother?"

"No!" Flame said. "I'm just looking for Spyro. Do you know where he is?" He wasn't in the habit of interrupting the elders, but he knew that if anyone would know where Spyro was, it would be his mentor Tomas.

"Spyro?" The blue dragon looked off into the distance, scratching his bearded chin as if trying to recall who the purple dragon was, then a smile grew on his muzzle. "Ah, yes. Spyro. So you're the little whippersnapper our Spyro has been spending so much time with, yes?"

Flame felt his cheeks heat up a bit, but luckily it didn't show too well on his red scales. "I just want to know where he is," he tried again.

"Spyro went to the Forgotten Realms, on a most important quest." Tomas continued, waving his staff around dramatically. "He's bringing back those precious ancient orbs that were stolen from our treasury last night. He said he'll be back before dinner!"

That didn't exactly make Flame feel better. Dinner must have been several hours ago. "Can I go look for him there?" Flame asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Oh, absolutely not! Spyro has trained for these sorts of things, but you're far too weak and small. You should know the Forgotten Realms is not a playground!"

Seeing the little dragon's disappointment, Tomas leaned in and patted Flame on his head. "Don't worry, little dragonet. I'm sure your friend will be back tomorrow morning. He took the portal in Dark Hollow. You can come back tomorrow and wait for him there if you wish."

"Thanks..." Flame mumbled.

"Now hurry on home, dragonet. I'm sure your mother is wondering where you are," he said, nudging Flame along with his staff.

But Spyro wasn't there the next day. Flame had rushed down to Dark Hollow first thing in the morning, only to be informed by a condolent Tomas that Spyro had not yet returned. It was okay though, the blue elder was quick to assure him; he had contacts in the Forgotten Realms and if Spyro was in any danger, he would have heard about it. Whatever Spyro was doing there must be very important because neither Tomas nor any of the elders seemed to be in any great hurry to bring Spyro back. Flame knew how dependent the elders were on Spyro, but even so, it was weird how quick they were to send him out to dangerous realms. Just to get a few orbs needed for an experiment.

But he decided not to worry about it. At least with Spyro gone, he had all the time in the world to check out the library, which he had been itching to do ever since his sleepover. However, even with the largest collection of books in the dragon realms under his talons, Flame couldn't find a single one he wanted to read. All the titles he had picked up before now seemed really dull and he looked through the rest of shelves more out of a sense of duty than interest. All he could think about was Spyro.

Was it possible that he had left for good without telling Flame? The young dragon shook that idea out of his mind. Spyro would never do that. No, there must be some other explanation. The quest must simply be taking longer than Flame and anyone else had expected.

Flame sat down in the grass and yawned, wondering if he might as well take a nap, but then his eyes fell on the closest bookshelf which had a couple of rows dedicated to "Romance and Courting". It was a category he usually skipped when looking for something to read, but today, it piqued the young dragon's interest. Maybe one of them could tell him a little more about his new feelings towards Spyro, and what exactly love entailed. Like if cuddling was a special thing for couples only, or was it just something friends did all the time.

He had looked through the books, finding none too interesting. They were all old and dusty and the titles were dumb and confusing. "Gone with the Flames, Pride and Dragons, A Tale of Two Homeworlds", all useless. He skipped through them all, eventually finding a book with an at least somewhat interesting title: "A Dragon's Guide to Courtship".

He picked it up and ran his talon along the pages, picking one at random. "A male expresses his interest in his mate by biting into the back of her neck, applying only gentle pressure, thus communicating his interest..."

This made no sense to the young dragon. Was he supposed to have bitten Spyro to show his interest? Or maybe Spyro should have bitten him? This was all just making him more confused. He picked up another book. This one at least had dragons on the cover, a blue and a red one, hugging and looking very much in love. The dragoness in the picture was red too. Flame wasn't a dragoness, he knew that much, but the red one looked a little like him, and the male's scales looked almost purple, like Spyro's.

Flame picked the book and laid down in the grass to read. The book was one of those versions made mostly for dragonets, and had plenty of pictures, so finishing it didn't take too long. The story didn't seem very dragonet friendly to Flame, though.

It was about a pair of dragons from two rivaling dragon tribes who fell in love. There was some fighting, but not enough to be interesting, and at the end of it, the male dragon thought the female was dead so he kills himself, and then the female kills herself too. None of it seemed particularly romantic to Flame, but he really liked the picture on the cover.

The urge to paint struck him again. Fortunately, he had his satchel with him, in which he usually kept some of his paints and paper. Lately, he had used them mostly to paint his maps. This time he wanted to recreate the cover, but with himself and Spyro instead. Something special for only his eyes, and maybe Spyro's. Nothing he would ever paint on the cave in his room.

Placing the book in the grass next to the paper, he started work. Spyro came out rather nicely, at least to his own partial eye. A handsome dragon sitting on his haunches, with long yellow horns and frills, just like the real thing. Just looking at the 2D version of Spyro he had created made his heart flutter. But when it was time to draw himself, things didn't go quite as well. His red color accidentally got smudged with Spyro's purple, making him look more pink than red. The last thing he wanted to draw was Ember snuggling with Spyro. Gross. He scrunched up his first attempt and threw it over his shoulder.

The next attempt went much better. He drew himself pressing against Spyro's chest, just like the dragoness from that image, and the new Spyro looked even better than the previous version. He sat tall and handsome, just like the dragon he was based on.

He loved it. He loved it so much he wanted to hug the painting to his chest, but it would smudge the colors.

He would have painted more but he was out of paper and noticed to his dismay that the sun was already hanging low on the horizon. He couldn't be late again. Mother had been furious with him yesterday when he hadn't shown up until well past midnight.

Not wanting his masterpiece to be wrinkled, he laid it flat against his flank under his wing and walked home, feeling much lighter on his claws already. When Spyro came back, and he would come back, Flame would show him the painting. Spyro would understand, and the next time he left the realm, he would have Flame with him.

When he got home to the cave an hour later, he was in good spirits. He took out his painting again and noticed with some dismay that the yellow of Spyro's frills had been smudged against the purple of his neck. But that was easy to fix, and he had the paints to do it in his room.

He rushed into the room where he screeched to a halt. Because there was Ember, rubbing at the cave wall with a wet sponge, removing all the little Spyros and Flames he had worked so hard on. The one with him and Spyro chasing sheep was already gone, and the one with them gliding from autumn plains was almost gone too.

"Oh there you are," his sister said, without looking up at him. "Grab a sponge and help me."

"EMBER!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Flame ran forward and knocked the sponge from her claws.

"Hey!" she protested. "I'm only washing off what's on your half."

"You shouldn't be cleaning it off at all! You're ruining them!" Flame roared, pushing her away from the cave wall. "I spent hours on those paintings of us! They mean a lot to me!"

"What the hell is your problem?" Ember flared up, getting back on her paws. "You're always drawing shit all over our walls that I have to clean up, how was I supposed to know this batch was so special?" Then her eyes took on a very worrying glint of curiosity. "And what exactly do you mean with us? Who is us?"

"Nobody! Just some dragons," Flame quickly said, but it was too late. He watched in horror as realization grew on Ember's face.

"Wait a minute. This is you and Spyro, isn't it? Why are you drawing yourself with Spyro?"

"No reason! Just get out," Flame hissed, his cheeks reddening rapidly.

But his sister had no intention of leaving. "Hey, whatcha got there?" she asked, pointing at the drawing still in Flame's talons.

"Nothing!" He quickly stuffed the paper under his wings.

"Show me!"

"No. Screw you."

The next thing he knew, Ember had him pinned to the ground and was reaching for the drawing. Flame tried to push her away, but she quickly got the upper claw, as she usually did when they wrestled, and it didn't take long until the the pink dragon stood victorious over her brother with the painting in her claws.

"Oh, this one is really good," she said, studying the drawing. "Wait, are you wing-wrestling or something? No, you're hugging. Wait, no, you're hugging all romantically!"

Flame ripped the drawing from her claws. "Would you please just leave!?"

"You're drawing yourself getting all snuggly with Spyro! That's so weird! Does he even remember you exist?"

Weird? Of all the multiple reactions he had imagined, including jealousy and disbelief, being called weird had never been one of them. Sudden anger began to pulse through him, turning into words that just sort of spewed out before he could stop himself.

"It's not weird, alright! And of course, we're hugging! And we're more than just friends. I love..." His claws flew to his muzzle before he could say what he was about to say, but it was too late.

"You... you love him?" Ember sat back on her haunches, shocked. "No offense Flame, but that makes no sense. You're supposed to want to find yourself a nice dragoness, not get all lovey-dovey over Spyro. That's kind of our thing."

"And what do you care!?" Flame snarled. "Everyone can see you're only chasing after Spyro because he's popular, and he doesn't even like you."

"Woah there! Geez, I'm sorry okay? I just don't see how he'd be into you when you're so small and can't breathe fire and all that. Face it. You're way out of his league, little bro."

"Because we hang out all the time. Because he's training me, and he rescued me from..."

"... the well, I know." Ember rolled her eyes. "As if that makes you special. Spyro rescues everyone. He's probably rescuing someone as we speak! In fact, he probably just rescued you because he felt sorry for..." She stopped when she laid eyes on her brother, with his smoldering glare and smoke billowing out his nostrils. "But ehm, I can see that you're upset, so I'll just give you some space bro."

She got up and made her way to the door, but Flame wasn't going to let her just walk out like that, not when he was still brimming with anger, not when he knew exactly what to say to hurt her, to finally show his arrogant sister just how wrong she was.

"And..." he said, pinning her eyes on his sister. "Because he's gonna be my wingmate for First Flight Day."

Ember froze. "No way. Spyro is my wingmate."

"Not anymore, he ain't," Flame said with an evil grin, and oh, how good it felt to say it, to watch Ember's expression, turning from disbelief to anger.

She charged towards him, clashing her horns hard against his. "Listen to me you little whelp," she growled. "I've been trying to get Spyro's attention since we were hatchlings. I spent hours listening to his stupid stories about his gems and his high-scores, while you just moped around in your cave feeling sorry for yourself. And then he goes and finds you in some muddy pit and all of a sudden, he's obsessed with you again. Well, I'm not gonna let you ruin it this time."

Flame pressed his horns hard against her, not about to give in. Not this time. "And I'm not gonna let you get close to him."

His sister sat back. "And how are you gonna stop me, huh? You don't even have your fire-breath," she laughed, but her laughter stopped rather abruptly when one of Flame's paint jar, the blue one, landed right in her face. She fell back on her butt with a surprised yelp.

"Oh you're dead," she growled as she got back on her feet, looking perfectly menacing with smoke puffing out from her nose, the paint jar dangling from one horn and forehead covered in blue paint. She charged into him and knocked him to the floor, then two dragons rolled around on the floor, both struggling to keep the other dragon down, spreading paint everywhere.

They only stopped when a sudden loud roar made the entire cave shake. The two dragons looked up to see their mother standing in the cave opening, casting a long shadow over the two little dragons.

"Just what are you two doing!?" she demanded to know.

Ember pulled himself out from under Flame. "It's not my fault! He got all pissy just because I washed away some of his paintings and he's in love with Spyro, apparently."

The words were out of her muzzle before Flame could stop her, before Ember could even think to stop herself. She froze, then shot an apologetic look in Flame's direction.

His mother seemed completely taken aback, the anger replaced by a look of confusion that Flame didn't like much more. "Those dragons... you were painting yourself and Spyro?"

Her son nodded mutely.

"But... but Flame..." His mother shook his head. "Flame... you shouldn't be feeling that way about Spyro."

"Why?" her son hissed suddenly. "Because I'm a dragon and not a dragoness, like Ember says?"

"Hey," Ember piped up. "I was just saying it's more natural that Spyro should be together with me."

"You too!?" Mother gasped. "I can see now that I kept Spyro around you two for too long..." She turned to Flame and sighed. "No, not because he's male, But because you're his hatchbrother. You were just too close growing up, and I think he's been a bad influence on you. It's.... it's just not healthy for you to be spending all your time with him."

"He was my hatchbrother for a few weeks only!" Flame said, his anger rising again. "Before you threw him away like a rotten egg. Which made him feel like shit, by the way."

"Flame! I didn't..." His mother hissed, then slowly exhaled. "I did what was right for Spyro by giving him over to the elders, just like I did what right for him when I took care of his egg until it hatched. And of course, I wanted to keep him! But I would not argue with the council."

Flame just gaped. He couldn't believe his ears. "Then why didn't you tell him that?" he asked, thinking about Spyro who went through his entire life feeling abandoned and resented. Who still today was sure that his mother hadn't wanted him.

"The elders would not let us intervene in the training of a prodigy. It's not for us to question how these things are done. He needed to focus to learn and grow, just like you need to focus on yourself, Flame." She sighed again. "I know you've been falling behind your peers and I'm... worried."

Flame knew that. He had been falling behind. But that was the old Flame. Not the one that had trained with Spyro. He could fight gnorcs now and wasn't afraid of gliding, all thanks to him. He wanted to tell her that, but his mother went on.

"You're not ready for someone like Spyro in your life. Once you have your fire-breath, and once you know how you fly, I'm sure there will be plenty of..." she hesitated, "...eligible dragons. But right now, you need to focus on you, and Spyro should do the same."

"But Spyro is the one helping me learn!" Flame shouted, getting up on all fours. His tail twitching angrily behind him as he approached his mother. "Nobody else ever did. You didn't care. The elders didn't care either. Besides... I really do love him," he added. He didn't know what else to say.

"We all care about you, Flame." he mother said. "And I know you love him but... Spyro is a different sort of dragon than you are. He was raised to explore, and he's not going to wait for you to keep up. You have to understand he might just be leading you on..."

"You are unbelievable!" Flame bristled. For the first time in his life, he was angrier than he was afraid of his mother. "It's not just that you think I'm not ready for a mate, you don't think I'm good enough for him! Neither of you thinks that he might actually like me!"

"Flame..." his mother started, but Flame didn't want to hear it. He pushed past her, out his room, out the cave and out of the village. He couldn't stand another second with Mother. He couldn't stand looking at her.

There was only one place he wanted to go to. Dark Hollow. He entered the green meadow and breathed in the cold evening air. The place really came alive in the evening, with the fireflies coming out to greet him, croaking frogs hopping around in the grass and the warm glow from the candles. He walked through the maze of old bookshelves and hedges until he found Spyro's sleeping spot.

He saw a patch of grass that seemed a little flatter than the rest, where he imagined that Spyro used to sleep. There he lay down in the cold grass and closed his eyes, and with his eyes closed and the faint warmth from the lantern warming his back, he could almost imagine that Spyro was there. Soon, he told himself, Spyro would be back. And Ember and mother could see how wrong they were about him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. Flame would spend as much time in Dark Hollow as he could, only returning to his cave to eat. And when he did, he didn't say a word to either his mother or Ember. Sometimes he would sleep in Dark Hollow too. Sometimes he'd just lay in the grass by the portal and read some books. He always picked the spot by the portal, so he'd know if Spyro would return.

Spyro had been gone almost a week now and nobody seemed to care, except Flame. Was he hurt? When he asked the elders, they were all sure he was fine. He had considered using the portal himself to find Spyro, and probably would have tried too, if he didn't know that there were thousands of homeworlds in the Forgotten Realms and finding Spyro would be next to impossible. So all he could do was wait, and waiting got harder every day.

Then one day, he realized that tomorrow would be First Flight Day, and he still hadn't heard from Spyro. Not a message. Not a word from the elders. Nothing. Except for one thing; Tomas had finally heard from one of his contacts. Spyro was fine. He was last seen collecting ancient orbs in the outer rim. And somehow, this was even worse than knowing nothing, because it meant Spyro was alright and could have returned any time he wanted. It meant he had definitely forgotten his promise to fly with him on First Flight Day.

It meant that maybe Ember and his mother were right about him.

That night, he had washed all the little Spyros and Flames from his cave-wall. He scrunched up his drawing and tossed it under his bed.

Thinking back on that day now, Flame felt only an numbness, the pains he used to feel so distant now as to barely register. He also wondered what's become of that old painting. He studied the cover for another moment before putting it back in the bookshelf, perhaps for some other young dragonet to find someday.

Ashes didn't ask any more questions. In fact, she didn't say a word as they doubled-back through Dark Hollow. She didn't ask why he had spent a good few minutes staring at a book cover as if hypnotized, or complain about the fact that the sun was already setting and that they were most probably going to be late to the Homecoming Party thanks to him. When he had first met her, Ashes had seemed to Flame like the most annoying dragon in the realm. Now as they walked, Flame decided she wasn't so annoying after all.

"Hey," he said as they walked through the gatehouse. "If you want, I could... tell you what happened sometime. You know, about how Spyro left."

Ashes looked at him with uncertain, pale blue eyes. "You sure you want to do that?"

Flame nodded. "I'll tell you after the party. I think it might feel good to finally talk about it."

---

Oh Wow, thanks for giving my story a read! If you liked it, give free to give me a fave or let me know what you think in the comments.Feedback, whether positive or negative, is great because it helps me improve!It usually takes me between one or two chapters to finish one of these so expect the next part out either this weekend or the next! (I always post on weekends!)'