It took hours for the little bird to waddle out of that tunnel, but he had no understanding of time. He did notice that his feet, bright as they were and big as he thought they looked, were not properly designed for walking; but his arms were stubby things, fluffy things, and they were even more useless. They could help him balance as he waddled along, or brace against the floor if he fell, but nothing more dramatic than that. And as the falcon emerged out of the tunnel in pursuit of the silvery light, he tripped once more, only to hastily raise his little wings in protest. He fell on his belly and rolled, letting out a tiny squeak, a little kick. He struggled for a moment and then gave up, coughing from the dust his efforts stirred up. Walking was hard, he didn't like it at all!
His feet didn't work! They didn't! His toes were too long and the claws at the end, they just caught against the rubble and tripped him up. And his arms! They were too little to even brace his fall. More often than not, Hurai's plump little belly was his landing cushion; but it didn't work too well as a pillow. He'd fallen for the upteenth time when a sound caught his attention - catching him by surprise, but comforting him at the same time. Rooted deep in his instincts, he knew not to be afraid of that sound.
Except when he got to his stupid feet, and turned his big stupid eyes towards the source of the sound, he was met with a really big face, which surprised him. He chirped and flailed, but managed to stay standing - instead of falling, he puffed up and raised his little wings, as if that would deter the strange big-face-thing from doing him harm.