Nothing could ever prepare you for this

"You aren't ready, Omen." Prophecy flicked one of her ears, whipping her head around to glare up at her son. Omen flicked his ear, annoyed with his mother and offering a lash of his tail towards her. "Mom I'm ready, I've been mature for three years. Why won't you just let me go?" He snorted, ears pinning briefly before he softened his gaze and slackened his posture. "Mom, I'm an adult... I know you don't want me to leave but I-" The sound of a knife slamming into a cutting board silenced the young Omen, his ears pricking towards the albino female. "You know... You're my only baby. You... You can't even fly proper yet, Omen. How will you ever get away from anything that lurks out in that bog? Or beyond it for that matter?" Omen signed softly, moving to step up to the counter with his admittedly shorter mother. She was right, he was her only child. The bog had taken the others and their father had abandoned them not long after they were born. Omen could see why she was so reluctant to let him go, though that didn't stop him from wanting to spread his non-existent wings and fly. They chopped carrots for a few minutes in silence, Omen slowly reaching towards the small pile to snatch a slice only to be met with a very light smack to his hand. Pulling back with a pout he looked down at his mom, who raised her knife and gingerly waved it at him. "No sneakin' food before dinner. We need those carrots for the stew and you know it." Her lips pursed, arms folding over her chest before she whipped the towel from her shoulder and began to smack him with it. "Go on now get. Feed the livestock and make sure those damn crows haven't gotten my tomatoes again." Omen offered his momma a small nod, reaching to tug a towel from the wrack against the wall infront of him. "Alri' ma. I don't think they're comin' back though. Henry is doin' a pretty good job at keepin' em' away." He reached upwards, scratching gently behind his ear for a moment with a distant look in his eye. "Ya named the... The scarecrow?" His mother looked unamused, smacking him with her towel again. "Go on, get!" Her tone was a bit firmer this time, pushing Omen to skitter out of the kitchen with a chuckle. A grumble left his lips, gaze flicking down to his pants with a displeased groan as he stepped into the house. Henry HAD been keeping the crows away but nothing was keeping distant explosions from spooking the pigs and tripping him in yuck. His pants were COVERED in it, and frankly so was he. Prophecy turned the corner humming a soft song only to pause and burst out laughing, bending over and slapping her knee gently. "Honey pot you look like someone slathered shit all over ya. Go take a shower supper is almost ready." Her tone was high, shaking with the laugh that rolled through her body. Somehow that made Omen less upset about the situation, his mamma laughing about it. He was always happy to take care of her, it was just them after all. "Alri' ma. I'll be back down in'a bit." His tone rolled with a laugh, unable to help it while he watched her move back to the kitchen still shaking from her laugh. Stepping down the stairs from his shower something smelled amazing, it had to have been the stew he was helping his mom prep earlier in the day. Omen's ears gave an excited twitch, head peeking around the corner of the kitchen to watch her pull the biscuits from the oven with a small sniff. Prophecy slowly turned, still holding the hot tray with a raise of her brow. "'s not ready yet honey pot. Go set the table, it'll be done in maybe 15 more minutes. We can play a round of go fish while we wait." Omen seemed disappointed that things weren't done, but stepped into their kitchen to retrieve the bowls, spoons, and glasses so he could set the table nonetheless. Once both spots were set he worked on hunting down that little blue deck of cards, tugging open drawers and cabinets with a confused wrinkle of his brow. It was always right in the China cabinet, but today it wasn't. "Where'r the cards mamma?" His tone was just loud enough for her to hear from the kitchen, and her response was the sound of cards clicking as they shook in a box. She had them, laughing softly as she moved out to the dining room to set up their game of go fish before dinner. They always played at least one, it was tradition. And Omen always let her win. 

Little did Omen know, despite the sweet night he had with his mother and the pleasant dreams of adventure he was having things would take a drastic turn for the worst fairly quickly. The house shook suddenly, jolting him from a dead sleep and drawing him from bed to bolt out into the hall where he was met by his mother. "Was that... A methane bubble?" His tone was obviously scared, ears twitching forward and gaze glued on his mother. Prophecy seemed confused, turning to head down the stairs so she could check the large windows at either end of the house only to be met with flames. They weren't inside but they sure were engulfing the livestock pens and the gardens. "We need to leave." Her tone was a small hush, small frame moving to rush back upstairs so she could begin to pack. Luckily there was really nothing behind the house to burn, if they were quick enough they could make it out before the fire reached them. Omen followed suit, piling things into a duffel bag he kept in his room haphazardly. Clothes, books, writing supplies, extra shoes, he essentially just dumped his dresser in there and swept his desk too. The only real thing left was the large photo album he kept in his closet, heafting it into his bag before pulling it over his shoulders. His mother was already downstairs, he could hear her gathering things. Omen was half way down the stairs when the second explosion hit, sending him flying backwards through where the stairs used to be and out into the muck. The house was ablaze and in ruins, pieces. The only thing he could see of his mother was her bag, it had landed a few feet away from him and caught ablaze in the process. "Mamma?" Omen's tone sounded strange in his ears, muffled. His head hurt, his whole body hurt for that matter. But pain didn't matter for now, he had to get up and find his mom. Omen forced his aching frame to its feet, staggering over to the flaming rubble that once was his home. "Mamma!" His tone was louder, somehow still muffled though. It was almost foreign to him, didn't sound like his at all. All the pain and fear wrapped up into it, he sounded like a little kid again. He couldn't really hear anything other than a high ringing, his gaze searching the burning rubble desperately for the white figure he loved oh so much. He'd spend hours digging, burning his hands and arms, breathing in smoke that would rub his lungs raw and scar his throat. Hours spent that would only yeild him finding ash. Hours that would end in rain, a cold, hard rain. A rain that put the blaze out. His eyes burned, his throat burned, everything burned and hurt. His heart hurt, he couldn't have lost the only living soul that had ever loved him. Just as he turned to walk back towards where he was thrown that's when his eyes caught it, a small speck of blue among the black and grey. A speck, but a bit if color in the ash none the less. He took a few staggering steps towards it before bending to pick it up, scooping the singed box of that deck of cards up with a choked sniffle. He quickly slipped them into the pocket of his pajamas, trudging back towards his bag with a shaking body. It wasn't until he looked down into their little storage cellar that he found her, and the grief stricken wail that left his lips is one that likely still echoes through the spot where the little farm once stood even to the current time. Omen buried his mother near her favorite flower bed, miraculously untouched by the fires that ravaged their farm. His body shook heavily with sobs, the strong Drak breaking down and pressing his head to the mound of soil that hid the woman he'd love the most for the rest of his life, the one he'd miss forever. She'd raised him, loved him, taught him everything he knew so far. He loved her so deeply it hurt and to see her go, to have her ripped from him tore him apart. But walking away from the farm, out into the bog, with nothing but his bag and a singed deck of cards, was just the beginning of the journey Omen would need to take to become the Drak he'd need to be.