It hurt and the boy couldn't understand it.

Raw skin pulled with each stride he took, weeping clear fluid and watery blood. The burn itself wasn't large, but it hurt, a sensation Hawke couldn't comprehend, it just...didn't compute in his brain. Why did it hurt? Father's fire did not hurt so why did the white devil's fire hurt him, and long after the flame had vanished? The owlet cooed to the child as he hobbled along, moving slowly, stiffly, unwilling to risk somehow hurting himself further.

Hawke stopped, head low as he struggled to come to terms with the pain. He didn't understand why it was hurting, why the White Devil burned him... The owlet continued to coo lovingly from his perch atop Hawke's withers, his beak running through the boy's bushy mane, trying to soothe away his hurts the best way he knew how.

The little prince shook his head, then continued to walk, nostrils flared. It was hot, the sun beat down, and the place where the burn was felt as if the sun itself just sat on him, and all the boy could think of was his mother. Where was she? Where was Aelin? Father? He hurt and was confused and couldn't find anyone. The boy's head lifted, looking around the dunes for the familiar whiteness of Mother, or the flaming brilliance of Father.

He saw no one, and that made the boy drop his head and continue on, ambling and stumbling across the sand, wandering aimlessly, lost on the sands as he tried to find where his dam and sire rested most often.

@[Einarr]

"Speech."

Hawke's ears went back when the voice came from seemingly nowhere, something that confused him until the owl chick chirped and nudged his bonded in the right direction. The little prince watched the larger, darker stallion warily before stretching out his head and neck to sniff at the black's legs and chest, ears pricked forward, the pain of his burns forgotten with the novelty of this newcomer.

The boy didn't know what the 'Diviner Fire' was, and looked up at the tall man, his expression blank of emotion, though interest was in his gaze. Fire... that was the stuff on Father's wings, the stuff that spewed from the White Devil's jaws that caused pain where it touched. As for burns... was that what was upon his body? Burns. The name clicked to the pain, and Hawke seemed to almost chew the word, jaw working a bit before he actually spoke. "No. Gweeveer, White Devil." His ears went back again, and the owlet hissed from his perch on Hawke, downy feathers ruffling in anger and agitation, their anger bouncing back and forth across the bond, growing more and more. Hawke's downy wings slapped the air as he jerked away, tiny hooves tearing at the ground as he watched Einarr with that same stony face, and utter, childish anger in his gaze.

However it vanished quickly, once the burns demanded his attention, weeping more now in protest of his violet movement. Hawke looked over at the burns, ears pricked as he once more tried to connect the pain he felt with the strange looking patches on his body, and once more he failed. "Who." He turned his attention then to Einarr; he provided distraction from the growingly painful demands of the burns, and was an unfamiliar face to boot.

"Affa Affa"

Those words had the boy going still as stone, every ounce of his mind focused on the black in something akin to startled curiosity. The words were familiar, though cooed from a much softer voice, and the Prince tilted his head slightly, sniffing once more at the black's inky hide before confirming that, no, this was not Mother(not that he thought so, but...better to check. Who knew what else the Devil did?). He inquired after the boy's lineage, and once more he grew confused.

"Mother, Father." Was his answer, before a spark went through his mind, and his head jerked up in realization. Wait, tell parents? He didn't know who his parents were? Well... that was a problem. Hawke frowned at the ground, burn all but forgotten in light of this new puzzle. He didn't know his parents by anything other than 'Mother' and 'Father'. "Not know name... Mother call khalakka." He looked back to Einarr, ears pricked.

Then those same ears went flat, lips twitching down in a frown as his head lowered. "Yes." The word was hissed out from the boy's lips, and the owlet hissed right along with him. Dragon... the white-legged one had called the White Devil a dragon, along with some yellow thing that looked similar. Dragons... dragons breathed fire that hurt long after dragons went away. "Hurts." He looked once more at the burn, curious before he looked back to Einarr.

Gaucho the Wildfire. Gaucho, Gaucho was Father and Father was Gaucho.

Then who was Mother?

Hawke frowned, jaw working back and forth as he mulled over this, however he was not left to his thoughts long as the black snorted, blue eyes lifting to meet red curiously, gaze drifting to the stallion's wing as he extended it over Hawke. Instant relief from the sun had the boy sidling closer, keeping under the shade even as ears pricked to pick up the guttural words of the second language Mother had begun teaching. It took him some time to figure out the words, he was yet a boy after all, and once he did he lifted his head, pride making the feathers on his downy wings fluff and his chest expand.

"Hawke." He liked the name. Sharp, quick.... sometimes the boy repeated his name, repeated his sister's name, just to hear the different sounds. He soon returned to his normal stance, trotting along after Einarr as they headed towards the oasis, and at first the little prince did not notice the growing hour.

It wasn't until the familiar tickle ran down his spine that he stopped in his tracks, blinking, before looking eagerly towards his side and back, downy wings lifting as skin peeled to muscle, muscle sloughing away to off-white bones. The change always intrigued the boy, and the owlet upon his back echoed the sentiment. Almost... almost with a sense of dread did the future Prince of Bones look at the black pegasus, the stallion who still retained his flesh and skin.

Why? Why why why? Invisible ears pinned back, and the skeletal colt took a stumbling step back, head low. Aelin, Father, Brother, Mother, the skull-mare, Eagle-one.... and now the Black. None of them changed. Not. A. one. Hawke took a trembling step towards the black, neck stretching out towards ebony skin, his breaths shuddering, the boy on the verge of tears in his frustration and confusion. "Why? Not change... WHY?" He needed to know... why everyone seemed perfectly fine to not change with the night and day. Aelin, she made the world more colorful, brightened everything until the earth and sky were saturated in hues unimaginable.

He... he became bones.

"Why?" A quiet word, a plea for the boy who was lost in his confusion, unaware of the curse and blessing of his magic. No, that knowledge would come later, for now he was just... afraid.