He is brave but still wide-eyed as he moves through Pangea.

He’s been promised monsters, after all.  Asena had told him he would be met with a multitude of dragons when he descended into the canyons of the land.  But even as he slides precariously down steep inclines in the near total darkness, even as he treks deeper and loses himself in the sinuous ravines, he still doesn’t spot a dragon at the start of his adventure. 

There are many places one such beast could tuck itself into though, Volos finds.  He exhales little bursts of fire to see into the darkest spaces he comes across.  There are a few pairs of eyes that shine back at him, all of which are small creatures he has no names for, and all of which are similarly terrified by the sudden brightness.  He apologizes to each of them in earnest before he moves on.  None of the eyes are large enough to be a dragon peering back at him, fearless in the face of his fire.

Giving up his search when the scratch of his throat becomes too much to bear, the yearling hears the telltale susurration of water over sandstone and goes to it.  With one last burst of sputtering fire between his lips, he aims it over the body of water just before his hooves.  The reds and oranges of his fire paint the surface of the river and reveal its vastness all at once.  Asena hadn’t told him about this.  He couldn’t imagine such an otherwise dry, dusty place could harbor such a treasure.  And for the island-born boy, it is a treasure indeed.

Volos leaps in with reckless abandon, the water as home to him as much as anything else could be.  He thinks he will call off the search for a Pangean dragon and make his way to the common lands that he’s heard so much about but hasn’t yet explored.  He gorges himself on water that tastes almost like copper as it slides down his throat.  He pays the taste no mind; surely the water is not the only difference he will experience in a life that stretches wide open ahead of him.  He’s smiling easily at that thought when he realizes he’s not alone.

“Hello,” the boy calls back, hearing the stranger’s splashing approach from down the current.  He moves to intercept her, not wanting her to put in all the work even if he can hardly move with all the water sloshing in his belly.  “Not your father.”  A crooked grin finds his lips as he states the obvious.  “I’m Volos.”  It should be impossible to see her in the eternal night, but her porcelain coat makes her just the tiniest bit more visible.  “Is your dad a dragon, by chance?”

She seems uneasy as she stands in the middle of the waterway facing him, like she is uncommitted to the place she holds against the rapids.  It isn’t overtly obvious the way she stands, but Volos is quite keen on body language despite his young age.  He knows when his father is forcing a smile, for instance, when Titanya leaves the island to go hunting for days at a time.  He knows, too, that when she comes back there are secrets unspoken between the words and looks his parents share.  He doesn’t like knowing these things, doesn’t like that there is an entire second world hidden inside the one that they live in.  He likes black and white much better.  He likes certainty, likes knowing that there is solid earth waiting for him under each next step.

He thinks maybe he just surprised this girl.  Hopes that is the reason, anyway.

She says that her father is made of glass, and his brows rise quickly with this knowledge.  “Glass?”  He’s seen the effects of lightning on the beach after a severe storm - the sand twisted and climbing into shapes of glass - but he’s never known someone to wear it on their skin.  His molten gaze slides to the girl’s pale skin, searching for the same effect on her and finding only an unusual glean instead.  “Couldn’t he break easily, then, being so delicate?” 

His gold eyes trail up to the blue of her own but are momentarily distracted by the flush of her cheeks.  It makes him almost uncomfortable, like he’s unearthed one of her secrets that would otherwise be hidden if not for his prying.  Volos looks away even though there is nothing to look at.  The darkness stretches on for miles and miles, all the way across the ocean and back home.  He knows, because he’s just traveled it in reverse.  It is unnerving to think about, but he reminds himself that they still manage to find each other.  Despite the blanket of darkness, they are not alone.  This chance meeting in an unknown land proves that not all of their fears are as terrible as they seem, that they can be overcome.

“Amathea,” he says, liking the quiet, unobtrusive hush of it in an otherwise harsh world.  He’s looking at her again and a genuine but gentle smile tugs at his lips. He doesn’t want to upset her again.  “’Course I’ll help you.  Do you think the river is safer to travel in?  Our monsters seem to prefer the sea in Ischia.”  The colt wonders if the next generation will discuss monsters as readily as the weather or if they will be a relic of the past by then.  “Don’t worry though, I can fight any of them off if they try to hurt you.  I’ve done it before.”