Red, gleaming, glittering darkness had become his closest friend. It was warm. It was familiar. It cradled him with strong arms, jagged and unrelenting against his movements. The darkness had been here with him for as long as he could remember, which hadn't been long, but it had held him without question. A constant. Consciousness, however, seemed to be an enemy. It would cause his eyes to flutter open with a sudden burst of energy, urging him to break free of the darkness' tight grip, though they never seemed to stay open long enough to find the promised freedom. Consciousness screamed for the youth to stretch his restless legs. Consciousness nagged for him to feel more than his friend's surrounding embrace. It shouted and yelled until there was no more time to rest and his eyes refused to drag him back to the dark haven that he loved so much.

Splintering, crackling noises surrounded him as consciousness once again reared its nagging head, pleading him this time to escape. Lethargic, the boy curled in upon himself, rustic eyes narrowing as dim light filtered through the crevices and splinters that assaulted the only thing he knew as his home. The Carnelian chrysalis began to shatter around him until it was too weak to support him any longer and the cub unceremoniously dropped from his haven, surrounded by the fragmentation of his previous peace. The freedom that consciousness promised was dark and dank, nowhere near as comforting as his stone womb.

And so, the cub sat, limbs splayed out awkwardly under him, ignoring the tremble in his lip as he hunted with wide eyes for anything that would promise him the same comfort he emerged from.

There was silence, aside from the trickle of water within the swamp's deep trenches. His toes wriggled beneath him, catching at fragments of rough carnelian and he winced slightly at the prickle of stone on the thin webbing between his pad. Newborn senses muddled and murky, the cub hardly noticed the bird as it came closer, eyes finally snatching onto its black and white form and away from the rocks that carved through this portion of the swamp. Nero's ears pressed flat against his head, short striped fur fluffing along his spine and tail lashing nervously behind him as they spoke to him. This was new. Different from his short few days of disturbingly quiet consciousness before it had coerced him into the outside world -- this strange place of fog and water.

Nero draws into himself, whiskers pulled taut against his stout maw as he attempts to make himself smaller, over sized paws drawing in close to his pale chest. Wide eyes never leave the bird and he shivers, an incoherent twist of a pitched mewl pulling from between teeny needle sharp teeth. He feels an odd slithering across his skin, only increasing his staggering heartbeat as he flattens himself to the floor. The sensation creeps and crawls over his entire being, the russet of his pelt slowly desaturating to fade in seamlessly with the inky blackness of his stripes. The jewel settled on his brow glimmers dully, an erratic, hesitant flickering, only ceasing as the front half of his body darkens to settle in on the dark floor of the crags. His hindquarters, however, remains perfectly russet, the perfect picture of orange and black stripes -- effortlessly visible.

@Pietro