HOME | DD

Description
Have a preview of the story. I really need to figure out how to end it so I can post the thing.

Note- the description killed italics.
    But something white poked from under the roots, and his heart leaped at the hope of any kind of clue. Drawing out weathered parchment, he unrolled the scroll carefully.
    It seemed to have been written messily in charcoal.
    ‘I’m afraid of myself. You’d think I’d be well used to it after being turned into her, but still. I’ve decided to write myself these notes, like a journal, to scatter. My memory has been an odd affair, and the idea of losing any memory of Spyro kills whatever is left of me. Maybe these can help me remember.
    I am lucky to have found this old parchment. Without even this meager form of entertainment, I fear I’d already have lost myself.’
    Even with the less than reassuring contents, this was proof she was here, or had been, in some form. That she had lived through his explosion of power. His heart leaped with that. But it also worried him to no end.
    For all he knew—or she, apparently—they were working towards a deadline, and who knew how long ago this had been written? That terrified him. He drew the paper to his chest and touched his nose to it with all the gentleness of a mother holding her egg for the very first time.
    “What’s happened to you?” he whispered, his strangely parched breath ruffling the parchment.
    The strange static wrung through his ears, but when he turned, fearlessly this time, nothing met his gaze.
    “I will find you,” he murmured to the sparse, dying landscape adorned with towering, haunting trees.
    They did not answer.
    On a whim, he reached into the satchel that hung around his neck and left wing, pulling out the metal bottle of ink and a long swatch of parchment he would use to give Hunter’s hawk messages, and stowed them where the note had been. He gave the note a longing glance before relinquishing it as well.
    It sounded like she needed it more. Once out of this dead forest, he could find birchbark. All the bark here looked old, dead and brittle. If Cynder was still there, it would not be an option for her.
    “What now?” he muttered dully, missing Sparx. He wasn’t good at providing his own witty banter, and ancestors knew he needed some of it right about now.
    The buzzing static filled the air moments later, causing him to turn and dart towards the sound. It had to mean something, right? He barreled past a few trees, but tried to skid to a stop as a flash of white and red caught his attention to the side. But when he managed to get himself facing the right direction, there was nothing there. Pain burned in his throat.
    He leaned down to cough, his head spinning with a sudden dizziness . He lay on the dead leaves, determinately shoving his mouth closed with his paws as he glared at his own muzzle confusedly.
    By the time he stumbled to his feet, he was very sure that the thing he’d seen was running away.
    It could have easily ended him as he lay on the forest floor coughing. Hopefully, that meant it was Cynder, or at the very least something that might hold clues to her whereabouts.
    At least it wasn’t violent. That was never a bad thing.

Description
Have a preview of the story. I really need to figure out how to end it so I can post the thing.

Note- the description killed italics.
    But something white poked from under the roots, and his heart leaped at the hope of any kind of clue. Drawing out weathered parchment, he unrolled the scroll carefully.
    It seemed to have been written messily in charcoal.
    ‘I’m afraid of myself. You’d think I’d be well used to it after being turned into her, but still. I’ve decided to write myself these notes, like a journal, to scatter. My memory has been an odd affair, and the idea of losing any memory of Spyro kills whatever is left of me. Maybe these can help me remember.
    I am lucky to have found this old parchment. Without even this meager form of entertainment, I fear I’d already have lost myself.’
    Even with the less than reassuring contents, this was proof she was here, or had been, in some form. That she had lived through his explosion of power. His heart leaped with that. But it also worried him to no end.
    For all he knew—or she, apparently—they were working towards a deadline, and who knew how long ago this had been written? That terrified him. He drew the paper to his chest and touched his nose to it with all the gentleness of a mother holding her egg for the very first time.
    “What’s happened to you?” he whispered, his strangely parched breath ruffling the parchment.
    The strange static wrung through his ears, but when he turned, fearlessly this time, nothing met his gaze.
    “I will find you,” he murmured to the sparse, dying landscape adorned with towering, haunting trees.
    They did not answer.
    On a whim, he reached into the satchel that hung around his neck and left wing, pulling out the metal bottle of ink and a long swatch of parchment he would use to give Hunter’s hawk messages, and stowed them where the note had been. He gave the note a longing glance before relinquishing it as well.
    It sounded like she needed it more. Once out of this dead forest, he could find birchbark. All the bark here looked old, dead and brittle. If Cynder was still there, it would not be an option for her.
    “What now?” he muttered dully, missing Sparx. He wasn’t good at providing his own witty banter, and ancestors knew he needed some of it right about now.
    The buzzing static filled the air moments later, causing him to turn and dart towards the sound. It had to mean something, right? He barreled past a few trees, but tried to skid to a stop as a flash of white and red caught his attention to the side. But when he managed to get himself facing the right direction, there was nothing there. Pain burned in his throat.
    He leaned down to cough, his head spinning with a sudden dizziness . He lay on the dead leaves, determinately shoving his mouth closed with his paws as he glared at his own muzzle confusedly.
    By the time he stumbled to his feet, he was very sure that the thing he’d seen was running away.
    It could have easily ended him as he lay on the forest floor coughing. Hopefully, that meant it was Cynder, or at the very least something that might hold clues to her whereabouts.
    At least it wasn’t violent. That was never a bad thing.