Ever since the dark formation of his earliest moments, he was aware of the ebb and flow of the heat and cold around him. He grew accustomed to both, as well as to the tremors that marked the mercurial nature of the tunnel, and the footfalls of travelers. Only lately had another sense presented itself: light and shadow and colors he didn't yet know the names to. The sights were more captivating by far, and had his young heart beating faster. A series of pops and cracks roused him from a twilight sleep. He didn’t feel fear because he had yet to know what fear was, and when the walls of his world began to chip away he leaned into the new, moving air with a curious snout. With a louder crack the rest of the chrysalis wall gave way, and Gunther fell forward onto the damp stone. He squinted against this new intensity of light until his eyes adjusted. He considered his long limbs splayed out before him: vastly oversized paws at the ends of stalky legs. Instinct alone told him that these had a use, but the what and the how were still up for trial and error. After shuffling them beneath himself, Gunther began the long process of extending them. The change in height was drastic enough to make him a little dizzy, and his tail began to wag of its own accord. Curious, he turned to watch this expressive part of his body, only to entangle his paws, and fall back with a none-too-quiet thud. GUNTHER

It was the bright spot of green that caught Sergei's attention. The cracking of the stone simply wasn't noticeable against the backdrop of lava and steam popping and hissing, but that color--it was like a sudden splash of forest among the monochrome rock and snow.

He was picking his way over carefully, leaning on his spear, when he caught sight of the creature that had spilled from the rock: a pup, or a cub, some sort of small and furry thing whose hues and shades were far more attuned to the stone underfoot than the stone that had given it life.

Sergei hesitated; he tended to avoid others, for his own reasons, but surely a new-hatched cub was no threat? And surely... it might need help?

He glanced around, wary, half-hoping someone else might come and save the day, but--no; this little one was alone out here, with bitter snow on one side and sheets of cascading molten rock on the other. The bear-beast grimaced, and shuffled forward.

"HYELLO," he called, as he came forward, claws kicking puffs of snow. His accent lay thick in his words, something that rolled the r's and deepened the vowels into half-swallowed syllables. But he was understandable enough, and his tone was as friendly as a bear's could be, at least. "I am friendly," he assured, just in case--and wondered if the child knew any language, yet; if it'd even understand. Just in case, he offered out his free paw, palm-up, as he came forth: a gesture of harmlessness. "I am Sergei. Are you--all right? -Baby?" he added, questioningly, as if trying to figure out if the child was, in fact, a newborn child.

Some creatures slept in their stones now and then, after all; and many of them were quite small.

He came to a halt a few cautious yards off, and knelt, trying to seem less hulking--something that wasn't exactly viable, but he tried nonetheless. And he tried for something of a smile, too, black lips curling upward, eyes squinting in a friendly manner.

Maybe this could be a new little friend; or maybe, at least, he could guide them somewhere... safer.

@Gunther