The boy has always struggled with his emotions. In truth, he doesn't seem to have a great deal of them - he doesn't understand them, nor does he wish to, despite his unquenchable thirst for knowledge about the unknown. That's why he's able to stand among the destruction with an expression of mild interest on his young face, as though this is an interesting quirk of nature rather than real life, real people dying real deaths.

Until his mother dies, that is.

Because of Vulkán's stunted emotional ability, he doesn't know what name to put to the sudden interesting eruption of feelings inside him. He doesn't know what it means when his heart clenches like there's an iron fist around it; he doesn't know what it means when his throat grows tight and hot, nor when his eyes begin to leak a strange salty liquid down the lines of his face. He doesn't know why his shoulder and his horns begin to dribble lava in conjunction with this odd series of events, denoting that he's feeling a particularly strong emotion.

He knows that he doesn't like it, though. He knows that this is bad, and he knows that he does not want his mother to be gone, regardless of how matter-of-fact he is about death. He understands completely that it is a necessary extension of life, but that doesn't change the fact that he loves Isopia in his own special way and she's now...no longer here.

"Mother..." He doesn't even have the foresight to call her Isopia, even though that's what she prefers. The yearling wanders numbly towards what remains of his dam, wondering why she's gone completely and not been left with a body to feed the other animals as she would have wanted. He can see his father, and it surprises him to see such a raw output of emotion in Volterra's body, in his face, in his expression; Vulkán stares at his sire like he would stare at a zoo exhibit, whilst silently realising that Volterra is feeling exactly what he's feeling.

Grief. Loss. That's what's plaguing the colt, but he does not know those names or those meanings. He only knows that his father is now ushering him towards the portal, and that he's not sure he wants to go when his mother is condemned to stay here for eternity. His lava leaks more and more, until his skin is as lumpy as a lunar landscape with it; he fights for a moment, wanting to stay with Isopia and say a proper goodbye to her, but the suction around the portal snatches him before he can.

He's dragged unceremoniously backwards into the rift, his mouth still rounded around the words that he didn't get chance to say to his mother.