It says something significant about Matias that he was numbered upon his birth. His mother, Delilah, was a sweet and slow-witted femme who had been abandoned by her first mate during pregnancy, and was ill-equipped to care for a litter of eight. She was approached by a strong and confident male, and it never occurred to her that she was being used...which was for the best, really.
Aldath had his own uses for his mate. To keep her occupied, he kept her pregnant, and harvested his own pups for use in his band of assassins--or such was his intent. He was generally bitterly disappointed with them, and spent most of his time ignoring the pups or abusing them for their failings.

When Matias was born, he had a bright light of potential. He was a stony grey-blue in color, roughly the shade Aldath had been as a pup, and he had wings like his father's, leathery batwings. His eyes were his mother's, a rich and slightly yellowed brown--a few steps from amber--and his personality was also similar; he seemed slow and practical, but easy to teach. He was initially given only a number: Delilah was forbidden to name her pups, and most of his siblings were known by birth order and unwholesome nicknames. Seventeen, as was his place in the family, caught Aldath's attention, and he was pulled away from his siblings at a young age and given a proper name.

One of the elder pups, Herlupe or "Earl", was severely beaten and cast from the family; shortly after, a pup a few years older than Matias escaped their father. He was only peripherally aware of these happenings. He was much more aware with the rough training regimen he was put through, the continual beatings across back and haunches when he failed, the running from his father when he knew he had something particularly unpleasant coming. He was never as quick to pick up on warrior training as Aldath wished, however; he was far brighter in bare survival skills, in fleeing from his father's wrathful advances. Matias did not learn to fly before his father had pinned him and ripped off the pup's wings in a fit of anger; the blood bathed the pup's back as he sobbed from pain and terror and shame. His father told him he was not worthy of wings, not worthy of his image, and for a few fleeting moments before he lost consciousness, Matias believed him.

[Adolesence]

The stubs of Matias's wings eventually healed; he did not die of the blood loss, and this was a fact which impressed his father enough that he was not further punished. He was cast from Aldath's sight, and was allowed to spend the rest of his teen years in the same state of neglect as his other siblings. The eldest of these were gone into the workforce--Aldath's workforce--or were dead or were lurking around their mini-pack like wraiths. Only one pup had left Aldath without his permission, and Matias knew of her through reputation; she was from a litter previous to his, and in their family, it could not be expected to be close to one's siblings.

Matias knew there was no point in trying to leave; indeed, he had no particular desire to do so. He had never grown into the handsome figure of his father; his pelt was the same slate color, and his form was stocky and heavy-boned but sinewy from malnutrition. He was strong, however, and in better health than most of his siblings, many of whom were dying of disease or hunger. So he decided to help his mother and take a part in raising what siblings were younger than him while helping to control those who were older; it was not terribly difficult, as most had the empty-eyed acceptance of one who knows nothing beyond abuse.

Aldath was spending more and more time away from his family; the good news of this was that Delilah could spend her nights in peace, and had to worry no more about further litters. She was growing old, weak, and exhausted, and Matias stood by her side, caring for her in a tender manner which she had never felt from her previous mates. He was patient and wise beyond his years, though he never expressed his intelligence except in terms of quiet earthy actions, and while he kept an air of confidence, he knew that Aldath had abandoned them for his insanity for good.

He was only partially right. Aldath did return to them, though none of them knew it at the time. He returned, on the crest of a wave of madness and carrying with him a torch. No one inside knew he was there, and they certainly did not know where he had been...they knew nothing until they knew terror and confusion, until they realized their den was filling with smoke and unbearable heat.

Delilah was too weak and too depressed to be forced to her paws. She lay, prostrate with panic, clinging tightly to as many of her pups as possible. Those that stayed at her side were similarly destroyed; weak from malnourishment, too young to pull away from her, slowly decaying from disease. The other pups, in varying ages from young adult to late childhood, struggled for the door. It was a disgustingly frightening sight; they crowded in panic at the doorway, even as it filled with smoke, even as they were burnt. The smells of burning wood and scorched earth mingled with the distinct odor of charred flesh; the close air of the den was pregnant with the sounds of crackling flame and the screams and cries of terror, pain. The air was thick, hot, and slowly losing its oxygen.
Throughout all of this, Matias stayed at his mother's side. There was no point in struggling with his siblings at the entrance. He waited, long after the smoke had formed a thick and visceral cloud, before becoming slowly aware that the lupess whose paw he clung to had gone cold, before he realized that the cries around him had died down. His lungs ached, terribly, but he knew, finally, he understood.

He pushed forward, leaping over fallen relatives whose names he had never learned, and scrambling forward through the entrance. Earth did not burn; the rim and the turf over his head burned, and cincers fell into his face and smoke clogged his nose, but he got through without dying, somehow. He leapt nimbly over burning piles of rubbish; the fire had consumed most of its fuel, and was separated out now into individual smouldering heaps. It began snowing, at some point, but he was unaware of it. He collapsed, at some point, but he was unaware of where, exactly, that had been.

He awoke some time later; he didn't know what time of day, as he could see nothing. All was dark then, as it would be forever--smoke and cinder had done their damage, and his eyes would be useless for the rest of his life. He was incredibly sore, his lungs ached, he shivered with fever, he coughed up coppery-tasting blood...but he was alive, which, as far as he could tell, no one else in his family was.

[Adulthood]
Matias spent the rest of his life wandering. He was not unhappy with his life; perhaps he was not intelligent enough to spend the time musing on his hardships, or perhaps he was merely too practical to allow them to get in the way. His blindness set him back a fair amount in the beginning, but he learned to overcome it; he was well used to dodging attacks from his father that he could not see, and his other senses were sharp by nature. He still lacked stamina; any prolonged running would cause him to collapse, chest-heaving, until he could collect himself, but he was otherwise in fine shape. He was enough of a warrior to hold his own in a territory battle, and every day was shaped with his freedom. Perhaps life was hard...but for the first time in his existence, he was living on his own, and that was worth celebrating.

He lived a friendless existence, passing from place to place and quietly wrapped up in his own thoughts, for many years. He never thought to search for family members, had never considered revenge upon his father. He never felt the longing for company; indeed, he had suffered so much company in his years alongside his mother that the solitude was nice. When he did finally stumble across a pack's territory, he pledged allegiance to it not from loneliness or gratitude, but only because it seemed the proper thing to do at that point in his life. And thus he began the beginning of his new life, as a Fire Eagle.