Eventually he knew not to stay with the crumbling sunstone. It was cold. It was dark. Whatever had made it a familiar and safe space had vanished, leaving the newborn to fend for itself amid the many bones of Canis. Although he did not know where he was, what he was - the child knew he could not linger long here. He took to pacing further and further away from the point of his hatching.

And as he did this, he discovered much. The darkness was absolute but his sense of touch was acute. His nose garnered the most information with each little breath he took, and although the boy did not know what the smells meant, he knew they were there. Some were strange and sour; others were inviting, even on some base level, familiar. On more than one occasion he bumbled in to a wall or caused a small collapse of bones around himself - the sound of which was grating on his new ears. Frightening.

He walked for hours through the winding chambers, and then out to the corridor encircling them. There were dips in the earth that fit his paws sometimes. Some were like his paws, but larger. He could not see, and did not know how to ignite the light which he'd inherited from the chrysalis. Then again, the newborn likely didn't realize he had any magicka to begin with.

Finally, after hours of trawling the darkness, he had to stop and rest. The boy collapsed against a spire of stone and lay there, a bundle of stick-legs attached to too-big paws and a head adorned with batty ears, and loosed a pitiful whine.