darkSpyro

Just seeing how long this'll stay in Fandom before it gets moved to Non-Spyro.

Yes, it's finally out, Skyqueen!

This is my new story about zebras. I have studied these beautiful equines for months, and I can honestly say, they are a very interesting species.

Before you click off this page, thinking it's crap, at least do yourself a favor and read the summary, please.

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As nicely as I can say it, you may in no way use any of the material in this story, or claim it as your own.

DYING OF THE LIGHT

The zebras have lived in peace and amity for thousands of years. Each herd respects another and bows down at their leader. But when a new pride of lions moves in, they threaten the zebra habitat and it’s future.
Only four manage to escape as the lions claim their new territory. Frah, an oddball Plains Zebra who is nearly black, with many white lines, Mekko, a hotheaded Grevy’s Zebra, Ditawny, a mysterious albino zebra, and Karr, a young zebra/pony foal who still has his brown stripes.
Forced to leave and search for a new home, the four young zebras make their way across Africa, facing the brutal struggle and climate of a dried land. Along the way, the encounter dangerous predators, nightmarish dreams, and life-threatening obstacles, as well as a terrible spirit haunting one of the zebras. As the quest for a new home becomes more and more dangerous, they embark on the journey of a lifetime.

PROLOUGE

Dusk set upon the thousands of miles of the African plains. It was a hot day, but as the sun crept its way down, bit by bit, it unleashed its cold. Other animals made their way under the trees to sleep, the giraffes hanging their necks down, the antelope tucking their legs under their chests and dipping their head down.
The predators didn’t bother the herbivores, unless they were hungry. The cheetahs stalked to their dens, and the hunting dogs curled together under the long stalks of grass. The hyenas laughed and cackled as they sang their dusk chorus that could be heard for miles away.
The giant watering hole was suprisingly unguarded, often the elephants were crowded around it, driving away whoever came close. The watering hole was the source of life in the savannah. Everything came to it to drink the fluid that kept them alive. Water. Without the watering hole, life couldn’t survive on the plains, it couldn’t flourish. But none of the animals thought of that time.
Atopt a dry hill, a lone Plains zebra stood watching the red sun go down. He had to squint to see behind the fiery glare. He knew he was vulnrable to any predators that were on the hunt, but he continued staring at the sinking sun, as if transfixed by its final warm rays. A distance away, he could see the Fire-Grass herd of Grevy’s zebras running together to their spot of grass where they graze. He grunted in amusement. As leader of the Wind-Song herd, he showed no friendleness towards the Fire-Song. His responsibilities were to his own herd, and his mate.
“Faldorn, are you still looking at the sun?” a voice came. The zebra turned around. A mare, heavy with her foal, trotted up to him. The stallion smiled. “Nikaya,” he murmered, walking up to her and brushing his head down her back. “Your foal shall be born soon, my love,” the male snorted. “Are you ready?” “Of course,” the female whispered. She took a few more steps, then stopped, wincing. “It kicks like Sebradyr.”
Faldorn chuckled. Sebradyr was, in equine terms, the god, the ruler and protecter, the good, loving, and compassionate. Legend says Sebradyr was who made all of Earth, the trees, grass, mountains, lakes, rivers, as well as all the elements, fire, ice, water, and land. With all of this, sprouted new life, the animals. Since the beginning of time, the zebras had known no other god.
Young zebras, though, never learned about Sebradyr until they were adolescents. It was part of a tradition. But if a young zebra dies, or loses its parents, some say that they are cursed with a terrible fate, because they never learned about their one true god and were said to live a terrible life of darkness.
But as there’s good, there’s always evil. Another god is told in the equine legends, a god of ferocity, hate, self-pity, grief, sorrow, cruelty, and misery. Many shudder at his very name, for it is said you can feel his unusual teeth on the back of your neck as you speak it, Shetani, which is Swahilli for “demonic”. Some zebras describe him as a large, dark gray, horse-like figure, covered in dark black fog. He has steel-hard hooves and sharp fangs. Those who do get a glimpse of him, say that the only things that can be spotted clearly is his glittering bright green eyes and the white flash of his frightening, predator-like teeth. Many fear that if zebras don’t learn about Sebradyr, they won’t have the protection of him, and Shetani will haunt them in their every step.
Another story says Shetani was the son of Sebradyr, and his favorite out of all of his children. But one day, Shetani grew very greedy and power-hungry, for he envied his father's power over all the land. He abandoned Sebradyr, for he wanted to create his own rule and legacy, and created the one thing life hates, darkness.
The stallion turned back to the dipping sun, which was nearly disappeared. Nikaya watched her mate as she walked up to him and stood next to him. “How come the lions have disappeared?” she asked him. Faldorn shurgged. “Not sure,” he whispered. “But I can tell their up to something. Something bad.”
He sighed. “I don’t understand. If something bad was coming, the Bitter-Cold herd of Mountain Zebras would’ve gave a distress call, wouldn’t they?” Nikaya shook her head. “Lions wouldn’t go north,” she said. “The Bitter-Cold is beyond their range.”
Nikaya leaned against Faldorn, his heavy bulk supporting her weight. “You’ll protect us,” she said, nuzzling his black-and-white striped coat. “I know you will. You’ve done so much to keep our herd safe.” Faldorn nodded, hopeful that she was right. He knew that lions favored zebras the most, and a pride large enough could kill a small herd of zebras in about a week.
“I’m scared for our foal,” Nikaya said, after a silence. “I know,” Faldorn replied. “We just have to be careful. If things get too dangerous, I’ll call a meeting with the Fire-Song and we’ll move further nortth.”
The sun moved slowly down the edge of the mountain, then disappeared under the horizon. Cold, night air set in, and the sky was dark and black. “Come,” Faldorn said, nudging Nikaya. “Let’s go home.”

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The Wind-Song herd sheltered in the east, about half a mile away from the watering hole. They grazed in a large grassy meadow, with plenty of food for everyone. The plains were dotted with hills, perfect for running on. The breeze was friendly and tugged at the zebras’ manes. And when night came, Wind-Song would take shelter near the trees, partly hidden from lions.
Zebras would take turns resting before going on night watch. Before sleeping, they would forn a protective circle around the weakest zebras and the foals, leaving the strongest zebras in the front and left to protect the others. That was what the Wind-Song herd normally did. Except not tonight.
Faldorn and Nikaya trotted back together. The mare was constantly slowing down, and Faldorn had to nudge her a few times to keep her moving. He knew her foal was coming, and it would come tonight, so he needed to get her to a safe place fast, before any predators came.
She was panting now, her mouth hanging open. Her belly seemed to be moving. “Follow me,” Faldorn barked to her. “I’m trying,” Nikaya bayed. Other zebras noticed their coming, they swung their head around to look at them. A young adult mare trotted up to Faldorn. Her stripes shone jet black in the moon’s blue glow. “Is she?” the female asked Faldorn. Faldorn nodded. “I’m afraid so, Palli.” A small, white albino foal, not even a week old, leaned on Palli’s heels. Faldorn raised his head to look at his herd. “I’m taking her into the tree’s shelter. Guard it well.”
“Yes, Faldorn,” the zebras replied, spreading out to form a long, wide circle, making it nearly impossible for any tresspaser to get through. Faldorn sped into the trees, Nikaya tried her best to keep up. Faldorn looked up at the trees and saw small, brown four-legged creatures with long tails and big yellow eyes. He curled his lip up, baring his teeth and flattening his ears.
“Relax,” Nikaya snorted, catching up to him. She was panting hard. “There just monkeys. They live their whole lives in trees. They won’t bother us.” Faldorn was still wary. He looked up at them, his eyes black as jet.
“We need to move deeper into the trees,” he said to her. “You can make it a little further, can’t you?” Nikaya sighed. “I’ll try.” She took a few more steps untul she reached Faldorn, then they both trotted together.
Faldorn still looked up at the monkeys, who stared down at them with big, wide eyes. He knew the tree area well. It stretched on for about half a mile, covered in vegetation, and in the middle of it, the ground sloped downward, perfect for a Birth Den. All Nikaya had to do was go a little bit further.
Nikaya suddenly flopped onto the ground. “I can’t make it any further. It’ll have to be here.” Faldorn dipped his head down to meet hers. Her stomach heaved and contracted. Tiny ripples passed through her black-and-white stripes. “She’s eager to get out,” Faldorn laughed. “He,” Nikaya corrected him. Faldorn smiled. “Always wanted a stallion,” he murmered to Nikaya.
Minutes passed. Nikaya’s contractions were getting faster and faster and she brayed in pain. Faldorn nuzzled her. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered, leaning his head against her’s. “The pain,” she barked. “It hurts.”
“Shhh,” Faldorn whispered. “I know, I know. Your doing great. I’m right here next to you, ready to protect you from any lion that dare trespass here.” His voice became a mere whisper. “I’ll never let anyone, anything, hurt you.”
More time passed. Nikaya looked miserable now. Whatever foal she was carrying must have been a strong one. Faldorn wanted to help her, but he knew this was something all hinds had to do on their own.
Suddenly, her striped back arched, she let out a screech, and a tiny wet bundle slithered out on the groud next to her. Nikaya let her head drop to the ground. She lay there, in silent shock and relief. Faldorn looked down at the newborn. “Nikaya, look,” he said. “You did it.”
In response, Nikaya raised her head up and swung it near her stomach. The foal was rather large, and it stared up at them with small beady black eyes. Its brown-and-white striped coat would soon be replaced with jet-black. The foal tried to stand, pushing itself up on its elbows. Its legs wobbled and it collapsed. “Oh, Faldorn, he’s gorgeous,” Nikaya beamed. Faldorn nodded. “But, what about his stripes? They look a little broader than usual.”
Faldorn was right. The foal’s was nearly all brown. Only many, many small white stripes coursed through his body. “He’ll grow out of it,” Nikaya said. She dipped her head towards the foal, nuzzling it.
“Hello, little one,” she cooed. “Can you see me? I’m your mother, and this is your father.” She touched her muzzle to the foal’s, directing up upward so it faced Faldorn. The foal tried to stand up, but collapsed again.
Faldorn laughed. Straightening his head, he called out a loud bark that echoed through the trees. The foal, scared, squealed and crawled under Nikaya’s leg. “Shh,” Nikaya snorted, calming the foal down. She lashed her tail across the foal’s back, stroking it.
“Just telling the herd that it’s safe now,” Faldorn told her. Nikaya stretched her tongue out, licking the blood and the remains of the birth sac off the young foal. “Can you stand?” Faldorn asked. “Let me try.”
Nikaya rolled over onto her feet and, with a little effort, heaved herself onto her feet. She turned to the foal. “Come on, young one.” She nudged it. “Time to get up.” The young stallion looked at its mother.
“Here, I’ll help,” Faldorn grunted, approaching the foal from behind. He pushed the foal from behind with a gentle jerk, upping it to its feet.
The foal wobbled a few times, but stood straight, its long striped legs shaking. Nikaya took a few steps past the foal. “Come on,” she barked, motioning her head for him to come to her.
The stallion squealed, and readily bounded towards her. He stumbled a few times, but was happily on his feet. Faldorn smiled. He trotted towards his mate. “We did well,” he snorted lovingly. She smiled at him.
Zebras were warily approaching the three, afraid that they would be driven away by the leader. But, Faldorn didn’t do anything, just watched his foal. Him, Nikaya mostly, wouldn’t let other mares get near the foal for a couple days, just until the foal could easily recognize his own mother.
“What shall we call him?” Nikaya asked Faldorn, looking at the foal bouncing around, his brown stripes gleaming. “Frah,” Faldorn replied.
Both the zebras didn’t know what that word meant. But, it seemed to suit the zebra well. As as they walked out of the trees and into the twilight of the grassy field, little Frah’s eyes sparkled with new destiny.

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CHAPTER 1

The sun was hidden behind the clouds as they floated past the sky. The grass stood still in the savannah, nothing moved, nothing stirred. The Wind-Song herd grazed on their territory, looking like black-and-white dots in the distance.. A lizard crawled through the grass, completely unaware of any predators that could sneak up on it, or any birds that could swoop down on it.
Suddenly, something, much, much bigger than the lizard, galloped past it. With a small, frightened screech, the lizard scampered out of the way.
The figure jumped around, facing the direction it ran in. It was a zebra. “Catch me now, Ditawny!” Frah brayed, pawing the ground with his hoof in anticipation. Another zebra streaked past Frah, a white blurry. It gave Frah a small nip on his shoulder. “Got you, black stripes!” it barked.
Frah was used to being called this, especially by Ditwany. He lost his brown stripes out of age, and indeed they were replaced with black. Except they were replaced with a little too much black. The only white on his coat were the small, narrow white lines that ran through the black. He could almost pull himself off for a Grevy’s Zebra. He was not like any of the other zebras in the herd. But neither was Ditawny.
That’s what he liked about her, she was unique like he was. She wasn’t black, no, she wasn’t black at all. She was the complete opposite of Frah. White. He had never seen anything like it. A white zebra? He used to think when he’d barely known her. Now he liked it. Liked it because he wasn’t the only weird one in the herd. The only other color on her body was the faint red blaze in her eyes.
Frah pulled his lips back, intimidating a predator’s snarl. “I’m a cheetah!” he barked at her. “Not fair!” she snorted. “You were the cheetah last time!”
“Okay, if I don’t catch you, you’re the cheetah, deal?” Frah asked her. She was already speeding off. “Deal?” she yowled back. “Hey!” Frah yelped, running after her. She may be more clever than him, but he was faster.
He could feel his legs, his powerful muscles extending and contracting as he ran. A tingle of happiness coursed through him. Running was the greatest freedom he had known in his life. When he wasn’t with the herd, he was running. He constantly asked his mother if he could go out for runs by himself. She never let him though, that’s what annoyed him. It was like there was something out there, something dangerous that she wasn’t telling him about, afraid that it would scare him or something.
He was gaining on Ditawny, his stamina gaining on her’s. With a smile, he ran harder, determined to catch her. He was so close, he could nearly see the faint gray stripes on her pure white back.
“And the cheetah make’s its final leap, and snags the prey!” Frah barked, as he gave a small bounce, ramming into Ditawny and sending them both tumbling in the grass. Frah lay there, panting and laughing. “Okay, I admit it, you make a better cheetah than me,” Ditawny chuckled.
Frah snorted. “Always though so,” he joked. Ditawny rolled her red eyes. She heaved herself up off the ground. Frah placed his elbows on the ground, raising his haunches up, followed by his forarms and he was up, next to Ditawny.
She looked up at the sky. The clouds were beginning to darker, signaling the approach of night. She looked back down at Frah. “You think we should go back?” Frah looked around. He knew dusk was approaching, and that hyenas would be gathering. He’d never seen one up close before, but his mother told him frightening stories about them, how they hunt in packs, and how they could bring down a single zebra with ease, so he was afraid of them, like all the other zebras.

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But he wanted to stay out here, just him and Ditawny for once. “Can’t we stay a little longer?” he pleaded. She shurgged. “Fine. But if we accidentally bring a whole pack of hyenas chasing after us, I’m blaming you for it.” Frah snorted. “They’d never catch me!” he boasted. “I’m the fastest zebra in the herd and I’m no more than a year old. Father said so himself.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Ditawny replied, tired of hearing his bragging all the time. “You act as if you’re the most talented zebra in Africa.” “Well, father says I’m very . . . athl . . . althle . . .”
“Athletic?” Ditawny guessed with a snort. “Yeah, that,” Frah said quickly, suddenly feeling embarresed. “Anyways, he says it means ‘good at sporting.’” “Do you even know what sporting means?” Ditawny asked.
“Yes,” he retorted. Her eyes were on him, expecting an answer. “Well . . . it’s something to do with running right?” She snickered. “Ditawny, you can’t expect me to know all this stuff,” he barked. “Remember, you’re older than me.”
He saw her look away. Great. What did I say now? He remembered. Ditawny’s father died from a kick to the skull before she was born and she never knew of her father. Frah suddenly felt very sorry for what he’d said.
He opened his mouth to apoligize, when a startling noise interrupted him. A call came from the distance. Both Frah and Ditawny whipped their heads around. At first, Frah thought it was his mother’s call, signaling for him and Ditawny to come home. But no. It cam from the north, near the Fire-Grass herd. “What’s happening?” Ditawny asked, looking at Frah.
“Not sure,” Frah whispered, perking his ears up to listen. The call came from the Grevy’s Zebra’s, he was sure of it, he just didn’t know why. It didn’t sound too much like a distress call, more like an angry call. “Must be quarreling,” Frah guessed. “Grevy’s do that a lot.”
“Yeah,” Ditawny agreed, which surprised him. “Probably welcoming in another hostile stranger.” Frah nodded. He knew that Grevy’s Zebras, unlike others, never have permanent social bonds. One single Grevy’s will never usually stay with a herd for more than a few months. It made him glad to know that he was a purebred Plains Zebra, and would stay with his herd for the rest of his life.
Then, another call came, this time, from his herd. “Time to go back,” Ditawny said. She began trotting back. Frah didn’t follow, just stared into the distance. I want to find out what that call was for. Ditawny, glancing over her shoulder, added, “Frah, you coming?”
Frah broke away from his stare, turning back to Ditawny. “Yeah,” he murmered. “Coming.” Together, they both started back to the herd. “Race you!” Frah barked, speeding up his trot, fast, but not too fast. He gave Ditawny a head start and let her purposly beat him.

This story will be placed ON HOLD as well.

Why? Howcome!?

Why!? :[

Because my dad's laptop has a virus, and thats where I keep my stories of Tovias and Dying of the Light.

Off hold now. Back up. Oh, and some of the thoughts aren't in italics because I didn't want to go back through my story and place "i"s everywhere

This is continueing the first chapter. Second chapter will start, obviously, when you see CHAPTER 2. You may need to go back and read it again to understand the story.
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The two foals got back to the herd, and were greeted by Ditawny’s mother, Palli. Frah didn’t like her, but he tried to be polite to her, as mother taught him to be. She was always fussing over Ditawny and how she white zebras wouldn’t survive in the savannah. Overly protective, Frah thought. That’s what she is. And the lectures. If there was anything he hated about Palli, it was the horrible lectures she gave him. But under all the annoyance he had for Palli, there was a small pang of sorrow Frah felt for her. She had lost her mate before Frah was born, and Ditawny had become Palli’s whole world after that.
She stared down at the two. “Where have you been?” she barked. “I was so worried you both got eaten by a pack of hyenas!” She looked at Frah expectantly. “And did you do as I asked?” Frah stared at her, then blinked in remembering.
“Oh yeah. Don’t worry, Palli, I watched out for Ditawny.” He noticed that Ditawny looked dreadfully embarresed. He didn’t blame her! Who couldn’t be embarresed with a mother like this? “In fact,” he added. “Ditawny is very smart and fast, and I’m sure she’d be fine without me.” He looked away in shyness.
“Fine?” Palli exclaimed. “You think she’d be fine?” Frah rolled his eyes. Here we go. “A cheetah could spot that white coat from over a mile away. It stands out like a beam of light. Why just yesterday I was out scanning the area with Faldorn and Heshin when I saw this white crane. Why that crane had no idea what was comi . . .”
Frah didn’t listen, he didn’t care. Secretly, he would never let anything happen to Ditawny. He’d protect her from the strongest hyena and the fastest cheetah. It wasn’t that he loved her, just liked her as a friend. After all, she was the only other foal in the herd and had been with him since he was a few weeks old.
“. . . And that cheetah just leaped out and snatched that bird up before it even had time to open its wings.” Palli finished her speech and looked down at the two. Frah snorted. “Thank you for that . . . that piece of advice, I’m sure it’ll inspire us to try and grow wings and fly away from the next cheetah we see.” He looked over at Ditawny and saw her stiffen with laughter.
Palli curled her lip up, showing her teeth. “You keep your mouth shut, foal,” she hissed between gritted teeth. “I tell you this for your own good, not for jokes.” Frah opened his mouth, ready to bite back a retort, but the sound of approaching hoofbeats drew closer. Frah looked around and saw his father walking towards them and he clamped his mouth shut.
The other mares parted way from Faldorn, except Nikaya, Frah’s mother. He looked down at Frah. “Good evening, my son.” Frah bowed his head in response. He hated this action. He was the son of the leader of the Wind-Song herd. He shouldn’t have to bow in his father’s prescence. Ditawny and Palli did the same.
“See any hyenas?” Faldorn asked the young foals. This was what Frah liked about his father. He had a sense of bravery and thirst for adventure like Frah. “Nope,” Ditawny said. “And glad you should be!” Palli brayed.
“Palli,” Faldorn snorted. “That is enough. I’m grateful that you are looking out for our foals but please, let me be in charge.”
Frah could see Palli wanted to object. She glared and walked off, muttering something under her breath. Faldorn chuckled.
The sky was black now, little bright stars stood still.The moon was big and yellow, it made Frah’s small white stripes have a silver glow to them. Faldorn looked up at the sky, then back down at Frah. “Frah, say good-bye to Ditawny.” Frah obeyed his father. “Bye, Ditawny,” he said. She took a step forward, nuzzled him, and pranced off to her mother. Frah tipped his head back up to the stars. His blackish body glowed in the moonlight, his tiny white stripes shone silver.
“Never seen this many,” he murmered. “I agree,” Faldorn said, looking at the stars along with his son. “Do . . . do you think it’s a sign?” Frah asked, thinking of the mysterious Grevy’s call. “Like, a sign for help?”
Frah took a step forward and saw that Faldorn’s eyes were scared and frightened. His father? The leader? Be frightened?
“What’s wrong?” Frah snorted. Faldorn whipped his head from the sky, shaking it. “Nothing,” he said. “It could be a sign. But I doubt it’s a sign for help.”
His father paused. “Come with me, its past your bedtime.” He trotted off, his ears standing forward and his black tail swishing. Frah followed him, looking around for his mother. It wasn’t particularly hard to find her, their herd wasn’t that big. In fact, he could name everybody according to their stripes.
First off, there was Faldorn, his father who had the most broad stripes in the harem, Nikaya, his mother who had creamy white fur, Wistala, Arien, and Palli all had distinctive shadow stripes in between each big one, Ditawny of course, could be recognized without a doubt, Nalaeni had a large brownish band on her leg, Heshin, who had the thinnest stripes, and himself. Him and his father were the only stallions in the herd. He could recognize everyone by their stripe pattern and voice.
He saw his mother, the small tuft of creamy-white fur on the top of her head standing out with ease. “Hello, son,” she said, the moment she saw him. Frah trotted up to her, pressing his head against her left foot, nuzzling her. She dipped her head down, running it along his back.
“Time to go to sleep, young one,” she muttered to him sweetly. He couldn’t hold it anymore. He had to tell someone. Scrambling out from his mother’s grasp he looked up at his father. “Did you hear that call the Grevy’s Zebras sent out?” he barked. Nikaya and Faldorn sent a glance to one another.
“What kind of call?” Faldorn asked. Frah tried his best to describe what he’d heard. “It sounded like it was angry . . . and . . . distressed, but I’m not sure. It could just be another bachelor male coming into the herd.”
Nikaya’s eyes grew wide. “Well, how could you be sure it was from Fire-Grass?” Faldorn said nothing, as usual.
“Because it came from that area,” Frah barked. “It wasn’t from Bitter-Cold, they’re too far away.”
Nikaya turned to Faldron. Frah wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw his mother’s mouth whisper, “Lion?” She turned back to Frah after a moment.