The dragon was defeated. The day was won. Yet Crescent was sure that she couldn't let the dragon die. While Xenitha had attacked her, she would help. Where Xenitha had a dire view at best, centred on a selfish Equestria, Crescent was sure she was wrong. It only took the image of a purple dragon in her mind to remember.
“Your untimely death is not certain, dragon. Neither are your frankly disgusting habits.”
Xenitha bowed her head grimly. “If you seek to find safe passage through lies, mare, then you need not try. I will let you leave safely, and you will leave us to our end.”
Crescent eyed her sternly. “If I were to say I knew how, then yes, I would be lying. I am but a night guard, instructed to watch and serve, and watched I have. In civilised Equestria, there are diamond dogs, griffins, minotaurs and dragons. Those dragons live with us, eat the same food we do, and they are healthy. I'm sure you could be the same.”
Rocky debris tumbled off Xenitha as she tucked her wings. The dragon looked half the terrifying creature she had looked before. “Your talk is pointless, mare. I have no wish to be with your folk. I would rather punish them for our years of isolation and hunger.” She gritted her teeth, as she said, “If only I could.”
Crescent knew that dragons were stubborn, the one thing Xenitha had in common with her. “You wouldn't try to punish a princess, would you? She wouldn't harm you either. Perhaps I should ask her for a meeting with you, so she could knock some sense into you.”
Xenitha sat down on the cave floor. Any passion or effort had disappeared from her voice as she lay to rest. “Come what may. Children, let the ponies pass with drawing a claw. To fight is futile.”