His heart is beating frantically, painfully. He's not sure what's happening, and he's scared. Observing his chest leads to more than that, though - something is wrong with his systems. Even in his panicked state, his heart rate is gradually slowing. While one can hope it's from comfort, the truth is seldom so gentle.

His bark is more solid than its usual, petal-like texture, but no less smooth. Like polished marble, almost. He pants, trying desperately to draw air as his lungs grow firmer. Something presses against his back's flesh, and he tries weakly to tug at it. His movements are slower than usual.