Answer:
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
What travels from house to house and is sometimes narrow and sometimes wide but always stays outside?
Power enough to smash ships and crush roofs. Yet it still must fear the sun.
In your fire you hear me scream, creaking and whining, yet I am dead before you lay me in your hearth.
I am mother and father, but never birth or nurse. I'm rarely still, but I never wander.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?