The little Prince had grown swiftly, now he moved about on those long legs with a growing grace, his little head held with a pride that seemed to be a permanent trait of the boy. The owlet, having grown himself and yet still remained nameless, glided alongside his bondmate, making no sound save the softest rustling of feathers that was barely audible to the ears. The owl's feathers had all but grown in, the only remainder of chick-fluff residing around the disk of his face, giving him a strange, bristled appearance.

Hawke himself had grown more into his own; he was still a child, however already there was the beginning signs of growth that would lead to his height matching that of his sire's; already he stood over Aelin, and was thicker-set than her. However he was not concerned at the present with comparisons in height to his twin(who had strangely gone missing. However since Father was not concerned, he wasn't either. Admittedly.... it felt wrong without her with him. Strange. He didn't quite like it.). Right now he was concerned with trotting across the sands towards a destination... he didn't know. There was a constant restlessness within the colt, one that drove him day in and day out to the edge of the Throat, where he had once seen a wingless fly across the sea on wings of fire. He knew the path well enough; traveling it once had been plenty, for his mind recorded the path with crystal-sharp clarity.

He stood there now, gaze lifted towards the land beyond, a wavering thing in the warmth of the desert. Despite the shift in seasons it was still... warm on the sands, yet it was not immune to the strange weather. Not too long ago Hawke had witnessed his first sandstorm, and found the experience... disturbing. The way the wind howled and moaned was unsettling, the feel of sand invading every crevice and orifice as you raced towards shelter was terrifying(and insanely itchy), and being packed with dozens of others in cramped shelter like sardines in a can was just downright annoying.

The owl perched upon Hawke's rump, his obsidian gaze flickering down towards the small burn scar that decorated Hawke's croup, the first of many scars who's inflictors would never be forgotten. After all, it was not in Hawke's nature to forget. The situation had the owl bristling, his dark eyes glittering darkly. Let the white-scaled offender dare to mark his bondmate again, she would be met with razor-sharp talons and a tearing beak. No longer was he a hatchling, unable to defend his still-young bonded; now he was large for a male of his species, and while the dragon might be bigger and possess fire... he was confident in his power, as most adolescents are.

"You. What is beyond the sea?" 'You' had become the owl's nickname, for Hawke had yet to actually name the creature, for he simply... didn't know what to call him. A name had to be perfect, and so far Hawke had not found a name fitting for the one who shared his mind and soul. The owl turned his head towards the sea, his strong, steady thoughts swirling slowly as he mulled it over. He did not know either, and made that clear through their bond as he looked to Hawke. The boy mulled that over, his gaze drifting back to the landmass, that ever-present flame of inquisition burning brightly within his chest, an urge to know, to absorb knowledge and quench his thirst for it.

"Go. Be safe." The owl whirred softly before launching off Hawke's rump silently, his broad wings cutting through the air as he ascended, and Hawke watched as his bonded wheeled higher and higher into the sky, his neck craned back almost to the point of pain but he cared not. A longing to join his beloved in the sky tugged at him, and his downy wings fluttered softly, instinctively. Soon enough the owl had vanished from sight, although Hawke could still feel him in his mind, though the connection felt more diluted the further he went.

Tail swishing, Hawke waited for his companion to return, the waves of his prison lapping at his hooves.

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Notes; New table yaaaaaaaay
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