4 - Outside

They find another set of stairs, these slipperier than the ones below. But still, they climb, further upwards towards the surface. They know it's not far now, and can see more light from the top of the stairwell. Drinking from water as they go, they start to manage multiple steps at a time, their strength returning ever-so-slowly.

Their hoof slips, and they hiss in pain as they hit the stairs. The air's colder, with the ground similarly chilled. They grunt and continue, more vocal now. Towards the light and the surface, they crawl and struggle. Until they reach the next floor, and see an opening to the right. A large opening, on the same level as their body: a goal.

They try to stand, but the ground is slippery, and they can't manage it for long, so they continue crawling. Their feathers make a good shield against the cold air, but the cold ground against their body has no such insulation. Still, with the frosty opening so close, they continue.

There's snow, and outside a maelstrom of chaos: snow and wind, a storm, a blizzard. With a soft grunt, they lean against the wall, trying to stand. Unlike the icy ground behind them, the snow lets them get some amount of grip again, and with the help of the wall, they stand, taking some tentative steps toward the outdoors.

The cold is immediate, the snow and wind buffeting their body. With the extra light, they can look back at themselves once more. The feathers are not just blankets, but wings. Limp, but with sensation, being covered in snow. A grayish color, it seems. Their coat is darker, almost black, sprinkled with snow by the weather.

Their hooves are red, dull, cracked, and damaged, but they still carry them forward. Looking back out across the blizzard, they decide to make their presence known, for whatever good it's worth. They yell into the void, an incoherent noise with no meaning until their voice gives out, and they return to silence. Unsure where to go, they decide to step into the blizzard, stumbling to the side as they learn to fight the wind.

They manage to walk, however. Nothing can be seen around them, but they continue forwards nonetheless. Keeping in one direction seems meaningless, the storm changing their path, their weakness causing them to stumble feebly, unable to fight it much. They fall onto their side in the snow, but get up, cold worming its way into their core. Still, they must escape, must escape.