Sequoia Coast sipping from a straw

Just as he suspected. “Δεν μιλώ για την κοινή γλώσσα,” he replied, the words sliding off his tongue the way they had since he was but a babe. He had never been taught the common tongue. Knowing it was a risk to The Nereides, and he was meant to be an asset. Spyridon's duty was to teach the young spawn how to behave as consorts, protect the sisters, and bring them food. Anything beyond that was out of his realm, and not his to deal with.

He stared levelly at the girl, wondering if she was happy where she was. How could anybody be happy without knowing their place? Spyro had never understood the other packs, nor had he ever attempted to. They were alien, foreign, strange societies that he wanted no part in.