Nothing makes sense anymore. His mother is dead- gone for reasons he simply cannot understand. She is gone from this world and he felt even more small than ever before. Father was no where to be seen, and nor was Aster. He was alone right now, and was not permitted to leave even if he wanted to. He didn't know this...monster that killed his mother, but he knew that he was simply...not strong enough to take him on. He was too small, too weak, and too young. He wasn't even fast enough to run. Not like he knew where he could even run to. He had never left Iromar. This was the only place he knew, and now everything seemed to have fallen apart.

He had spent much time in the den. His nose was pressed into a corner, inhaling and exhaling the scent of his mother and father. It was the most comfort he could get. He hadn't eaten, and has barely drank anything. He only left to drink when his throat screamed at him to do so. Otherwise, the runt of a boy huddled in the corner, visibly shaken and terrified of this world.

He was unaware of what might be going on outside the den. He was so unaware, that it probably took him longer to realize that something was wrong...even more wrong than his mother being dead. He had never seen fire before, never known what it was. He never knew the smell. No one told him of it. It was that smell that the wind barely brought to the den that caught his jumbled mind. There was an instinct in him to turn his head towards the den's mouth. The sky was not blue as it should be, and he had never seen clouds like that before.

He did not want to leave the den, but he felt a compulsion to at least peek his head out. With his tail between his legs, he took cautious steps with his white paws with his ears back until his head barely stuck out of the den. It was still a distance away- but he could see it. It acted as nothing he had seen before. Red and orange and yellow. It seemed to rage on and on. What was it? Why did he feel a sudden terror and fear starting to engulf him?

He froze as his eyes remained wide open as he watched the flames draw near. He was crouched, tense, but did not know if he should hide in the den or run. His mind could not decide. He did not want to leave the comfort of the den. No, he couldn't. Perhaps whatever this rage was, it would pass over him...but he was watching now what it was doing to the trees, how the birds had long left. It was...turning them black, creating clouds of black. Was this his mother's revenge on her death? Was she going to protect him while she takes care of those who killed her with this...this....magic? But why does he feel this fear? He whines as his ears lay flat, and he flattens himself down like a pancake at the mouth of the den- frozen in his own fear.