I arrive with the moon, but I bring the storm. Pain is my harbinger; gore is my form. I sometimes wear wings and sometimes a cup. In fifty or sixty years my time’s up.

I travel on wings yet sit upon thrones. I’m a wanderer of continents and a ruler in name alone. Both kingdom and creature share my title. What am I?

I have a throat but I cannot speak, you feed me as I get weak. My fever rises as the day gets bleak, you are by my side, you dusty little freak.

I am taken before I am given, I vanish when held, I return only when lost, And I’m never the same twice.

A fowl way to tell someone to protect their head.