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The Start of the Journey

"Hey, maybe we need a mount dragon instead of ferals."

"Nope...we don't have any mounts here except Flicrist."

"Ah, damn it..."

It was still dark. The sun hadn't shown its light yet and many of the kingdom's inhabitants were still asleep when Yort and Ramusk were arguing whether to ask a mount dragon to carry Seraphor or not. The only mount capable, Flicrist, was unable to carry the silver red despite of his small composure.

"I'm sorry, my fellow dragons," said Flicrist the day before when Yort asked for his help. "But after that attack to this kingdom, we can't risk insecurity to this kingdom. The king wanted many dragons to defend this kingdom should the same assault happens again. He doesn't want this place go down."

And so, that night, they were thinking on how to carry Seraphor without making him hurt more. One very dangerous part was when the dragon carrying him was forced to out maneuver any ambush, which would greatly impacting Seraphor's own health, seeing that some of his bones had fractured and caused him great fever. Yort had also tried carrying the feather-weighted dragon on his back, but of course his ridged back wasn't able to hold Seraphor long.

The silver red also tried his best not to burden the others. He wanted to try to grab hold on his friend's hard scales, but of at his current condition, moving anything was like a total burden, as if some gravity had struck the small dragon. The dragon also tried to move his front legs, knowing that they weren't broken. But then, the pain at somewhere around his upper ribs forced him to stop moving too much to not risk a greater pain.

His predicament made him curse himself. It was so careless of him to be airborne, knowing that he was a flightless dragon. Moreover, without access to the favorable atmosphere and magical aura Dragon Realm had, his body couldn't hold great injuries. He forgot the crucial fact, and now he was there, couldn't do anything without his friends helping him. He was like a newborn, still too energetic to kill and not thinking rationally on the outcome.

He had a stagnant development, unlike Spyro. Now, Spyro had become wiser than him, knowing that the dragon was almost reaching his 30th birthday. Seraphor sometimes though the dragon could become a better adult, while Seraphor himself was still young. He knew he still needed some years more to be considered an adult dragon, coming to the fact that in his world dragons aged slower than humans, and for some, having slower development than humans. At least, he knew his weaknesses and the direst situation.

"Hey," said Spyro when he realized Seraphor was awake and staring to the sky. "Feeling okay?"

"Yeah." Seraphor could only give croaked voice, but he was glad his sentence was hearable.

"Those old dragons were arguing about how to take you to the settlement as if you're a precious thing or somethin'. I can carry you on my back, you know. I'm now two times bigger than you 10 years ago."

"But still cocky like it was..."

"Oh, come on, Sera!"

Seraphor then saw Yort coming. He said, "There's no use arguing much longer. Seraphor, it's hard to say this, but, you need to endure the pain again."

"H...how are we going to go there?"

"You must try to cling on Spyro's back."

Seraphor was like surprised, so did Spyro. They both exclaimed "What?!" to the surprised Yort. Silence fell over them as only constant snoring from some dragons around them was the hearable sound.

"Wait a sec, I was only offering with a joke, not seriously! You think I can carry a precious cargo?"

"Look, young dragon. I am too old to carry Seraphor. He's too heavy for me now."

"The fuck?! He's as light as feather!"

"For you. For this world, he's as heavy as you are."

"And you expect ME to carry a dragon with fractured bones while...while I always fly harshly like a jet fighter?!"

"I don't know your 'jetfighter' thing to me, but I will tell you this one more time. YOU must carry Seraphor on your back to Qeveriyt city, and Seraphor MUST endure wild flying from a feral. You got it?"

It was as if Spyro had no choices left but to say "Yes", though the purple dragon was reluctant whether to follow the suggestion or not. Risking Seraphor's back leg was like risking his own well-being, as without his wings, he only had strong back legs. Spyro remembered he almost busted his legs once when he ran too fast with his unique electric step, almost burning away his muscle joints. Seraphor would lose the chance to make a living normally without his legs, so Spyro tried as best not to make him worse.

After some hesitation, the purple dragon nodded to Yort and walked to the silver red. He lifted the feather-weighted dragon to his back with ease and gently, and the dragon was now piggybacking his bigger counterpart. Seraphor felt Spyro's hard scales touching his rather soft belly, and realized that he never got the time to feel Spyro's rigged back. The golden small ridges had now grown to the point where Seraphor could cling there, and of course now he could see the beauty of Spyro's curved golden horn, giving a sense of pride to the purple dragon from Seraphor's perspective. Not that the purple dragon didn't feel that way, too.

"Sera, you ready?"

"Stay calm and don't get too excited whenever you're flying," said Seraphor slowly. "With me on your back, you won't be able to fly fast."

Spyro nodded, then turned to Yort. "Where is this city?"

"It's far east. Need four days to fly there. There's a desert between this region to the city so we can't move too fast or we'll be thrown by the sandstorm."

"Sa...sandstorm?! Why the hell did you all build a dragon city in the middle of a wasteland?! You know that's not good for younglings."

"Well, the place is partially underground, so it has a degree of protection from the elements. Enough said. We must go now before the sun rises. There's a chance that some anti-dragons have anticipated the loss and tried to ambush us. We must fly with caution."

"Caution...fuck, as if we need to stay alert anytime. One shitty part is when I also knew that our enemies are small and quick."

"We'll cover your blindsides. It's why we have weapons, right?"

The voice came from behind Ramusk, so when they turned, they saw a group of draconians behind Richard carrying all sorts of projectile weapons with some draconians with different scale color, as if they were once dragons turned into the mythical half-human half-dragon. Richard walked towards Seraphor and touched his back leg, which made a sudden reaction of pain to the silver red.

"It's just a bone fracture. Why the rush?"

"We can't heal his bones with unknown anatomy," said Yort. "It's the first time I knew a dragon got bone fracture."

"Yet humans and draconians always have bone fractures if they are not careful," said Richard. "We can't help you guys either. Despite of me being a half dragon, the others are still draconians and of course couldn't mend my bones either."

"But...why helping us? This is a dragon's manner. You draconians are also from another world, so we don't want unnecessary sacrifices."

Then Juagar walked forward. "Hey, it's not like we want to lose our lives for an otherworld matter, but at least this is what we can do to support Richard's friends, but only for this one time, okay? Some of us are family drakes, so we have other responsibilities to attend to. You dragons also know when we are going to need time to not fighting and defending our hatchlings, right?" "True...but..."

"We don't need to argue too much, okay? We'll climb on your backs and we won't be a burden to you guys. Is that okay?"

"B...but, I...my back is not as strong as it used to be," said Yort with a clear evidences of anxiety.

"Oh, c'mon, now, Yort! You said you have a strong back!"

"It's a long story...but...I really wish all of you draconians can use an alternate...method of transportation."

"We can't use any goddamn cars in this world!" exclaimed Richard, clearly annoyed on why Yort was trying to avoid having anything on his back. "Fuck, man, fuck! What actually happened to your fucking back, huh? Have you been raped by a big fucking dragon and you...you just got...oh, shit! Why am I so fucking mad?!"

"Calm down, Richie!" said one of his friends. "If he doesn't want to we'll take a car."

Richard was angry because of a reason of mood change. He was depressed when Cernelesh said to him that his first hatchling would hatch soon, yet he had no idea what parenting was. If not for Cernelesh talked to him about taking a time-off or fend off the frustration in his own world, he would be in a draconic rampage.

But then, when Richard calmed, he realized Yort was getting more anxious when Ramusk was putting one of his winged front limbs on his back, and then the dragon made a slow roar which was understandable by some of the dragons there, yet not by the others.

"Alright, you win. We'll take a car," said Richard in disappointment. "We'll follow you straight so go now."

When the draconians left them (while leaving their heavy weapons behind), Ramusk turned to Yort with serious look and said, "Were you raped?"

"No!"

"No dragons have back problems except if they were being crushed from above, which, on my experience, is not possible in combat." His voice turned into whisper. "You keep telling secrets around me and I'll make sure you won't get away with only having back problems."

The voice and the aura from Ramusk were threatening enough, as if Yort was being tempted by the devil itself. With a gulp, Yort turned his head and said, "Le...let's talk while flying, okay? We have wasted time arguing."

And so, the group started to fly away with the time of the sunrise. Shortly after, Seraphor and Spyro identified another moving object, clearly a car, accelerating then going with the speed of the dragons. The dragons knew the weird object was he transportation for the draconians, so they slowed a little. It still needed three days to go from that point to the place where they wanted to go, but with slow journey and great places to see, Spyro knew they wouldn't be bored.

Both the old dragons slowed their flying in order for them to talk privately, which made Spyro knew their piracy so he distracted Seraphor's acute hearing by talking about the cultures there and what dragons normally do.

Yort tried not to see Ramusk face, and the hell dragon was somehow curious about his actions. He knew somehow someway that Yort was embarrassed to admit something.

"I...accidentally mated a young dragoness," said Yort with high embarrassment. He was so flushed that he felt his pride fell. "She was too drunk after drinking Guardiola's herb and...well, I had no choice. She was bigger than me and she was as wild as a youngling. That...dragoness forced me to make some movements that of course forced my back too much, and I'm still sprained until this day."

"What did she do to you?"

"Like I said earlier..."

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know. When I left the city to live in Xici, she had gone away to a distant north, last I heard."

"Damn it, man...you've just mated to a northern dragon. Those gigantic dragons up there are violent and deadly in term on combat. You just lucky you only get away with hip damage. I don't know what would happen if you continue with any northern dragons. Holy crap, Yort, you must try to find a suitable mate for your age now. You're not like what you used to be many years ago, okay? Anyway, have you ever mated?"

"Never before that day. I thought you never find a mate?"

"I did...only that time, though. I don't know if I ever find another again. She's so complete with me, not because of our race...but also, while she was a young dragon...she adored me in many ways."

"Oh, you mean...Angelus?"

"Yeah..."

"Sorry, friend, about your loss."

"That's alright. Hell dragons are immortal after they are dead, but they won't return to the world of living. If I die, I will go back to where she is waiting for me, if she still remembers me. We all stay young forever."

Somehow Yort lost his embarrassment. He just chuckled and said, "Yes, it's good for you, Ramusk."

They all flew away toward the horizon where they realized they had flown all day and had finally reached the outskirts of the desert, faster than normal. The sun had set when they reached an oasis they found while flying and they rested for the night there. As Ramusk prepared a big fire, Richard turned his attention to Seraphor that was sleeping soundly behind Spyro's back. The golden draconian realized that his old friend was too exhausted to stay awake because of the combined pain from riding a dragon's back and his hastily tied broken legs, which started to give a painful fever to the silver red.

"What's happenin'?" said Spyro in concern.

"I don't know if he can survive the fever or not. We are not mending his bones and I can say it starts to infect him," said Richard. "Don't fly violently."

"I'm trying to!"

"Your name's Spyro, right? From what I see how you fly, you're still too agitated in flying. You're not in an acrobatic show, goddamn it. It's fortunate Sera is a dragon. What if you're having a human riding on your back?"

"I can't help it, okay? Back in my home world everything except Seraphor is bigger than me, so of course I never have any dragons or any beings to climb onto my back. It's just inappropriate."

"Then, do me a favor and fly like you're just walking normally. Don't rush."

Spyro didn't want Seraphor to be killed by a mere fracture. He knew bone fracture quite well when his leg was fractured by a strong force given by his enemy Red. He knew the pain and the fever, and now Seraphor had the experience. The purple dragon could ask Terrador's help to make some herbs for Seraphor, but right now, his friends are back in Dragon Realm and the portal was closed for how long he didn't know. He just wished one week there wasn't as long as he thought it was.

He was still concerned on Seraphor, but flying for the whole day was exhausting even to him, so he lay down on the comfy sand to rest.