A Spotty Past

A Spotty Past is the first book of the Reality series. It is Spots's PoV. It tells about her past.

## Summary

*Spots has always been lazy, but she has her reasons for doing so.*

*Everyone else just assumes that she was naturally lazy.*

*But the reality lies within her lack of sight.*

*It's time for you to know the truth...*

## Contents

### *Prologue*

Everything was dark. That was OK. Spots had been living like this for a few days already. Her mother always kept her close and described everything to her. All day, Spots could hear rushing water of the many waterfalls in the city. Her mother had always said, “The entrance waterfall is such a beautiful clear blue. It’s a shame you can’t see it.” Then she would pull Spots close for a hug. Sometimes she would hug her a bit too tight, but Spots didn’t mind at all. It was comforting, actually, to have those warm wings around her, protecting her from all danger.

In Waterfalls, you were never alone. CatWings constantly prowled the streets, evidently patrolling for any signs of rebellion against Queen Cougar on her orders. However, they were quite nice, although a bit strict. They knew Spots, and were happy to point her in the right direction when she got lost. Spots thought it was mainly because her mother was a high Waterfalls noble. Spots yawned and stretched in her bed of moss. She called, “Mother? You wake up?” in her dragonet talk.

“Yes, dear,” her mother replied. From the noises she was making, Spots guessed that she was making breakfast. She could guess what it was: fruit. Spots could smell blueberries, strawberries, nectarines, slivers of mango and apples; all of her favorite things. Spots took a step and accidentally just fell out of her bed. Her mother laughed and helped her up. With that a sudden thought rushed through her mind.

“When Dad home?” Spots cried nervously, her milky blue eyes wide in worry. She had only been in this world for a few days now, yet she already knew he was mean, and he smelled like dried blood. Spots shivered but her father coming home meant Jaguar being home, so she didn’t mind too much. Her mom gave her an awkward smile, not that Spots could see it. “Soon…” her mother cleared her throat. Spots waddled over nearly tripping over a tree branch to where her mother was, and her mom nuzzled her a little giving Spots a slight form of comfort. Spots closed her eyes trying to imagine what it was like to be able to see. Even then, all she could see was blackness.

### *Chapter 1*

**Blood**

Spots opened her eyes and she felt the sunlight drizzle down on her face, but all she could see was darkness. She heard the grumble of her father over by the kitchen. She crept over yawning.. She sniffed the air in hope to find the rose-scented smell of her sister. All she could smell was the dried blood that covered her father and some pine that mixed in the air. Her whiskers twitched. “Dad? You wake? Where Jaguar?” Spots called.

“Yeah!” he snapped grumpily, sounding as though a fish bone were stuck in his throat, the way his words came out. Her father always made her feel small, for some particular reason. Spots cleared her throat.

“Where Jaguar? You not say,” she said shyly. Her eyes were focused on nowhere in particular. Her father’s tone became more gentle but still snappy as he said,

“Outside, and it’s ‘Dad are you awake?’, not ‘Dad, you wake?’. That’s just dragonet talk.” *But I* is *a tiny dragonet, only live for a little bit of days,* though Spots indignantly. Her mother called,

“Now, now. Spots *is* a young dragonet, after all. Don’t treat her like an adult dragon all the time. That’s just silly.” As usual, her mother was defending her. Spots always wondered if her father was in pain and that's why he's mean but she can never be sure. The smell of blood disturbed her, mostly when it mingled with other smells. Spots crept outside, trying to memorize the layout of the house.

It was small, since her mother insisted that Spots would have trouble navigating a large mansion on her own. A sweet scent flowed through the open glass door (since her mother had decided that the house should still have *something* pretty). Jaguar was outside, chasing butterflies. She turned when she saw Spots (or so Spots thought), her face full of delight. Spots could smell the love pouring off her. She smelled like roses, mainly because once Jaguar had fallen into some liquid perfume that smelled like roses.

Spots used to get confused and walked over to the rose perfume thinking it was her sister. The thought embarrassed Spots; she wondered how stupid she must look, talking to a bottle of perfume. The scent wasn’t so strong now but she could still smell the sticky perfume on Jaguar. Her father insisted that Jaguar would have a bath, to stop her from ruining everything nice in the house, no one liked the thought of sticky perfume everywhere. Even after having a bath, Spots could smell the abundant smell of roses coming from Jaguar.

“Spots! Spots? I here,” said a strange voice, bringing Spots back from her thoughts. Spots recognized instantly the fierce voice of her twin.

“Jaguar!” she squeaked joyfully. “You almost no smell like rose anymore!”

“I know!” squealed Jaguar, running over and wrapping her wings around Spots in a warm hug. Spots smiled as she playfully leaped onto Jaguar. The young CatWing squawked in surprise and tackled her back. Soon, they were giggling and wrestling.

“Jaguar! Jaguar! Have idea!” squeaked Spots suddenly. “We play war! I be bad guy!”

“Good idea! I be good guy!” replied Jaguar, grinning. They grabbed sticks and jabbed at each other, pretending to fight.

“I got you!” hollered Jaguar, poking Spots in the chest.

“No, I got *you*!” cried Spots, poking her back. At that moment, their father stepped outside.

“*What*  is going on here?” he growled. Jaguar and Spots both dropped their sticks.

“Am sorry, Dad,” mumbled Jaguar. Spots nodded, too scared to speak. Jaguar was always the brave one.

“War is not something to play about,” their father snarled. “Dragons *die* in war. And you can still work up the courage to *pretend* war?” his voice rose to a shout. Spots felt as though she was going to cry. She sniffled and buried her snout in Jaguar’s soft fur. Just then, her mother came.

“Don’t talk to them that way,” she hissed at him. “They’re only a few weeks old. You can’t blame them for not knowing everything in the world.” Spots could sense her anger.

“He not talk. He *yell*,” insisted Jaguar. After a small pause, in which Mom and Dad were snarling at each other in low voices, Spots heard her father growl something, then turn and storm back into the house. “He gone now,” murmured Jaguar.

“I know,” said Spots, touching Jaguar lightly on the wing.