The world he knows is quiet and comfortable, an encompassing darkness that moves and rocks with the motions of his mother. His activity is born only of simple desires and motives, stress and excitement. He is beginning to learn emotion, and his heart beats firm with strong, healthy life. His wings are small and cramped, but most of his surroundings are cramped, so he knows nothing else. He has no awareness of the great, wide world that awaits him. The skies and the birds he will fly among, the cliff he is born on that he will leap off one day, courageous and trusting in the strength of his wings. He does not even have a name, as of yet. But change comes, as change always comes. And he knows with an odd, detached certainty that it is his time.

The whole experience is rather odd and uncomfortable for the tiny creature, but he is born on a warm summer day with the ocean breeze tickling his thin, fluttering nostrils. The sun encourages his wings and feathers to fluff and dry, and the elements croon and welcome him with their song; the wind whistling through the grass, the waves crashing against the bleached rock, the cicadas and birds singing. And alongside it all is his mother's touch, instinctual as she grooms and showers him in her scent and love. Tiny nose snuffles, blind eyes reaching for warm skin, unwilling to reveal blue eyes against the blinding strike of the sun through the trees. There is another creature, another soft touch, and he familiarizes himself with the scent as if this creature is simply another mother. Little wings shift and shudder, tiny nub of a horn like a lump of obsidian on his forehead as he finally peeks his eyes open to meet the sun.

His mother is a vision backlit by the sunlight, subtle hues of pink and gold shining in her skin, mouth stretched into a smile and eyes warm with love. And beside her, a dark creature with flowering horns, as much family to him as Raeden. And finally he is given a name, a title, and he blows air out his nose in a little snuffle at the sound of his mother's voice. Gawen. Battle hawk, his name means. But for now he is nothing but a child, and he kicks tiny legs at the earth, trying to stand. Fluffy tail sways at his hindquarters as his butt swings through the air, forelegs still on the earth as he tries to figure out this whole "walking" thing. Tottering a few inches only to slump back to the earth with a little bleat of surprise, head casting around for his mother's guidance as hunger rumbles in his belly.

So this is life.