Chapter 3
Spyro was awoken by the sound of his cell door opening, he scrambled to his paws.
Before he could react the overseer reached into the cell and grabbed his collar, yanking him out.
“Time for work purple.” He dragged Spyro across the quarry, his eyes locked forward
“Hey! Let go! I can walk by myself.” Spyro uselessly tried to dig his paws into the rough ground.
“Quiet beast,” the overseer growled.
They approached a large cart already filled with ore. He dragged Spyro to the front of the cart holding him in place while attaching chains to the magic suppressing collar. He then grabbed a bit and bridle off the ground.
Spyro’s eyes widened at the sight of the leather and metal object. “No way!” he shouted trying to step back, the clanking chains attached to the collar giving him nowhere to go.
“No way are you putting that thing on me!” he yelled louder, he clamped his mouth shut.
The Overseer wrapped his hand around Spyro’s muzzle, roughly pulled the bridle over it, tearing at his scales, causing sharp pricks of pain.
“Mff!” Spyro grunted as the overseer slid his finger into the dragon's mouth, pulling his jaws apart with impossible strength.
Spyro put all his strength into his jaw and brought his teeth down on the Overseer’s fingers.
The Overseer yelled, pulling his hand away. “Stupid beast.” he yelled, ripping off a piece of his clothes and wrapping his hand in it.
Spyro spit the Overseer's blood out of his mouth. “Told ya” he said with a smirk, knocking the bridle aside with a flick of his muzzle.
The Overseer turns to look at Spyro, rage in his eyes. He rushed back over grabbing the bridle off the ground and slammed his foot into Spyro’s side.
“Ah!” Spyro said, falling over on to his side, his forepaws flying to the impact point. He didn’t even have time to process the pain before the overseer put his leg over Spyro and sat down on top of the dragon which only made the pain worse.
“Ow!” Spyro screamed, the Overseer putting his full weight into the dragon’s bruised body. He grabbed Spyro’s muzzle again, bridle in hand. He leaned down, “bite again purple and you die!” he spat. He grabbed Spyro’s jaws with renewed strength.
Despite how much everything hurt, Spyro locked his mouth. “You’re not putting that on me!” he growled out, though it came out more like whimpering at this point.
Slowly, Spyro’s mouth was forced open, this time he didn’t try to bite, the Overseer roughly shoved the bit into the back of his mouth, causing a sharp pinching in the back of his jaw, he thought his mouth was going to bleed . He gave a muffled whine as the bridle was jerked back and tied behind his head cruelly tight.
The Overseer finally got up off Spyro’s back, and grabbed the collar, forcing the dragon to his paws. Spyro was wobbly on his paws but he managed not to fall over, he glared up at the Overseer defiantly.
“Now purple, WALK!” He slapped the side of Spyro’s flank where the whip had struck him the previous day, sending fresh pain through the dragon, causing Spyro to groan. The Overseer pulled out his own whip threateningly and snapped it at Spyro’s paws. “Go!” he bellowed.
Spyro raised his head defiantly, pushing up against the heavy collar, eyes locked forward, the slaver raised his whip, ready to strike if the dragon didn’t start walking. He took a deep breath, dug his claws into the dirt and put his weight into the cart. It was impossibly heavy but after several seconds, he felt it give.
Spyro slowly pulled the cart of ore, putting one paw in front of the other. The Overseer continued to yell and threaten to use the whip. Spyro tried to ignore the Hyena, doing his best to focus on the grueling task at hand. Everything hurt, his bruised side where he was kicked, the whip injury on his flank. His mouth was on fire from the bridle and bit, his head even hurt from being slammed into the ground the night before.
For the next hour Spyro slowly pushed the cart up the long incline of the Quarry. Whenever he slowed or stopped to catch his breath the Overseer would swing the whip at his hindpaws and yell at him. Occasionally he would even lightly whip Spyro on the flank or back, leaving bloody marks and broken scales, seemingly for no reason. Spyro would yelp at the pain but would always keep walking, not wanting anything worse.
Finally, he reached the top of the Quarry, where the ore was transferred to a long caravan of carts pulled by oxen like creatures he’d never seen before. “Halt purple!” the Overseer yelled.
Spyro wanted to snap that he isn’t stupid, but he held his tongue. He was exhausted and didn’t want another beating.
A dead eyed Satyr and a couple of Fauns approached the cart and immediately got to work unloading it; they didn’t even acknowledge the dragon pulling the cart. Despite everything Spyro was still surprised how they didn’t even seem to notice him, usually the sight of a dragon would have evoked some kind of a reaction. “Could they even see me?” he wondered.
In front of Spyro was a trough, almost too tall for him to reach, he looked over at the Overseer who stood to the side looking bored, unsure if taking a drink would provoke a response. Spyro shook that concern away, the haul up the quarry had left him parched, he needed water.
He got up on his hind legs and placed his forepaws on the edge of trough, joints aching and looked over, the water looked gross, but he didn’t care, he dipped his head down and drank what could through the bit and bridle, it was difficult but managed to get enough water down his throat to not feel thirsty anymore. All the while Spyro felt intense humiliation, the indignity of being treated like an animal. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t flow, he brought his head back down off the trough carefully. Whereas before he fought the collar to keep his head up, to preserve what little pride he had left, now he let the weight take hold of him, merely staring down at the dirt as the cart was cleared out.
Soon the cart was empty and the slaves walked to another cart that had just arrived at the top of the quarry. Almost immediately there was a crack of the whip and a puff of dirt flew up near Spyro’s paws. The Overseer stood there with his arms crossed, staring at Spyro, hand on the whip ready to strike if Spyro hesitated.
Spyro took one last look at the departing slaves and began hauling the cart back down the quarry.
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The day came to a close and Spyro slowly walked back to his cell after hauling the cart to the bottom of Quarry for the last time. Every joint hurt, his back and flanks were covered in bloody gashes from the Overseer’s whip.
The second he crossed the threshold of the cell he collapsed on to the ground his energy spent, the door slamming behind him. He lay there in the dark, he couldn’t even think, the pain of the day was overwhelming.
Suddenly there was a sound behind him, an object being set inside his cell. He strained to turn his head, finding a bowl of some kind sitting on the ground. “Food?” Spyro croaked out, his voice weak, he struggled to turn himself around. He realized hadn’t eaten since the morning the slavers caught him.
It took most of his strength to lift his head up and look inside the bowl. There was a grey paste inside, some kind of gruel. The smell nearly made Spyro throw up but he knew he had no other option. He reached for the bowl with his forepaw trying to grasp the bowl, but couldn’t get a grip, he was too weak.
Spyro groaned, he tipped the bowl over with his weak paw, the disgusting goop sliding down, some of it hitting the dirt. He stuck his tongue out and lapped at the paste, avoiding the goo that had touched the dirt. It tasted even worse than it smelled, but he kept going, driven on by hunger.
Finally, he finished eating, He weakly knocked the bowl away with his forepaw in frustration. He saw the quarry just beyond the bars, a promise of more pain and torture tomorrow. He curled up best he could, waiting for sleep to claim him.
“I’m gonna die here aren’t I?” Spyro said, his voice cracking under the strain, he sobbed into his paws. 24 hours ago he’d vowed to escape, but now it seemed impossible. He could barely move and it would be like that every day until this place took his life, all his energy spent hauling rocks for these mutts.
Spyro forced himself to shut his eyes, imagining he wasn’t in this place. That he was back home in the Dragon Realms safe with his friends, his fellow dragons, for a brief moment he believed it.
