Answer:
They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?
Always wax, yet always wane: I melt, succumbed to the flame. Lighting darkness, with fate unblest, I soon devolve to shapeless mess.
What makes a loud noise when changing its jacket, becomes larger but weighs less?
My first is a creature whose breeding is unclear. My second, a price you must pay. My whole can be found in the river of Time and refers to events of today.
Thirty white horses on a red hill, First they champ, Then they stamp, Then they stand still.
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.