Volucris cautiously walks out of his room, and looks around, trying to get used to the fact that his eyes were being pulled to all kinds of details that he had never seen before. And, you know, his wings. They flap softly as he stretches them for the first time in daylight, and he looks at all the others, then the food. His clenching stomach reminded him the the last time he ate was the morning before, so he eagerly grabs a small plate of raw chicken, and begins tearing chunks off and swallowing them whole, as he can no longer chew.