Her steps were tentative, unsure of leaving the safety of her enclosure. She was accustomed to cramped, dark spaces, after all, and the sunlight was so bright… but oh, the grass was silky under her roughened paws.
And what was that chirping? So delicate– nothing like the deafening roar of laughter and blaring calliope.
Rearing on hind legs, on ankles worn bare from a lifetime of shackles, she sniffed the breeze: honeysuckle, and clover. No sawdust, or sour sweat… it smelled like home.
She did a forward roll in the grass. Not on command, but simply because she wanted to.
INSTANT NOODLES 