As much as he hated the guy, Yoa was starting to feel bad for him. Behind all the arrogance, there was a boy who held the weight of his mother's words, and the throne that would be his. It is clear to the young warrior, even then, that Vulcan was looking for an escape, a different path with meaning that didn't revolve around the flock and his disdainful mother.
Yet, the first dream Yoa had been pulled into was one of Vulcan sitting on that throne. Before his thoughts could spiral further into the depths of what Vulcan must be thinking and feeling, he was yanked from this position on the cliffside and landed with a thud onto another.
Vulcan's muscles had grown, his hair longer, no longer following the masses of Silver Feather that copied their Sky Matron's style. Cruelty had sharpened his gaze even at the age of fifteen, but what Yoa saw next went beyond what little he'd known of the harpy eagle.
