Aithusa
The tips of his wings dragged in the dark. This place was cold and damp in a horribly familiar way. Aithusa dragged his legged and stretched. Then stretched again. It was so very dark. He tentatively lifted his nostrils toward warmth and found he could take a few paces in the blackness. There was dirt and smooth stone. The claws scraped loudly and clicked. The sound of his breath echoed in the surroundings and he moved forward with curious longing until he found the source of the mysterious smell. Aithusa nudged the cold substance, and feeling no pushback from the thing, he opened his jaws and bit down. The eating was distressing but good.