Episode 1: "The First Step"
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1. Zira’s Frustration
The orange evening light spilled through the window of Zira’s small room, painting the walls in warm hues. Zira sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching a worn sketchpad. Her white-tipped tail flicked in annoyance as she scribbled furiously, trying to drown out the noise coming from the other side of her door.
“Zira!” her mom’s sharp voice cut through her concentration. “You left your dishes in the sink again! And what about your homework? Have you even started it?”
Zira groaned, dropping her pencil onto the bed. “I’ll do it later!” she called back, her voice tinged with exasperation.
“Later isn’t good enough!” her mom snapped. “You’re always putting things off, and I’m getting tired of it. You need to take responsibility for once.”
Zira gritted her teeth. It was always like this—always something she wasn’t doing right, something she wasn’t good enough at. No matter how hard she tried, her mom always found something to criticize. It felt like she couldn’t breathe without being told she was doing it wrong.
She stood up and grabbed her hoodie from the chair by her desk, yanking it over her head. “I’m going out!” she shouted, storming toward the door.
“Zira, we’re not done talking!” her mom called after her.
But Zira didn’t care. She slammed the door shut behind her and marched down the street, her bare feet hitting the pavement with purpose. She needed to get away—just for a little while. The park was the only place that ever felt quiet.
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2. Fenn’s Frustration
Across town, Fenn sat at the kitchen table, staring longingly out the window. The bright blue sky called to her, the distant sound of kids laughing in the park tempting her to run outside and join them. But instead, she was stuck inside, a bowl of untouched soup in front of her and her mother pacing behind her.
“Fenn, you’ve barely eaten anything,” her mom said, her voice heavy with concern. “You’re always running around, and you need to keep your strength up.”
“I’m not hungry,” Fenn mumbled, poking at the soup with her spoon.
Her mom sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “And what about your scarf? It’s dirty again. You can’t keep dragging it through the mud like that. Honestly, Fenn, you need to take better care of your things.”
“I like it this way,” Fenn said quietly, tugging at the edge of her scarf.
“Well, I don’t,” her mom said, pulling the scarf from around her neck. “I’m washing it, and that’s final.”
“No!” Fenn cried, reaching for the scarf, but her mom held it out of reach.
“This isn’t up for discussion, Fenn,” her mom said firmly. “You need to learn how to take better care of yourself. You can’t just run around doing whatever you want all the time.”
Fenn bit her lip, her frustration bubbling up. It felt like every part of her life was under her mom’s control—what she ate, what she wore, where she went. She just wanted to make her own choices for once.
As soon as her mom turned toward the laundry room, Fenn slipped off her chair and darted for the door. “I’m going out!” she shouted, grabbing a spare scarf from the hook by the door.
“Fenn, wait! You haven’t even—” her mom’s voice faded as Fenn slammed the door shut behind her.
Barefoot and determined, Fenn ran down the street, her floppy ears bouncing with each step. The park was the only place she could think of where she might feel free, even if just for a little while.
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3. The Meeting at the Park
The swings creaked softly in the evening breeze as Zira slouched on a park bench, arms crossed and tail flicking in annoyance. She watched the clouds shift lazily in the sky, trying to push away the lingering frustration from her argument at home.
“Zira?” a familiar voice called.
Zira glanced up to see Fenn walking toward her, her spare scarf tied haphazardly around her neck. The rabbit’s blue eyes were wide with a mix of exhaustion and relief.
“Hey, Fenn,” Zira said, scooting over to make room on the bench. “What’s up?”
Fenn sighed as she sat down, her ears drooping. “Same as always. Mom’s on my case again about everything. She wouldn’t even let me keep my scarf dirty. She acts like I can’t do anything right.”
“Ugh, same,” Zira said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t even sit in my room without my mom nagging me about something. It’s like they want us to be perfect or something.”
Fenn twirled the edge of her scarf between her fingers. “Do you ever feel like... like they don’t even trust us? Like we’re not good enough?”
“All the time,” Zira said, her green eyes narrowing. “And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of always being told what to do, where to go, how to act. I just... I just want to live my own life, y’know?”
Fenn nodded slowly. “Me too.”
Zira leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “So let’s do it.”
“Do what?” Fenn asked, tilting her head.
“Leave,” Zira said, her eyes gleaming with determination. “We don’t need them. We can take care of ourselves.”
Fenn’s eyes widened. “Leave? You mean... run away?”
“Exactly,” Zira said, grinning. “Think about it: no rules, no nagging, no one telling us we’re not good enough. Just you, me, and the forest.”
“The forest?” Fenn asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“It’s perfect,” Zira said, her excitement building. “It’s quiet, it’s big, and it’s far away from here. We’ll bring what we need—blankets, food, water—and we’ll stick together. What do you say?”
Fenn hesitated, her ears twitching nervously. “It sounds... scary.”
“It’s better than staying here,” Zira said firmly. “We can do it, Fenn. I know we can.”
Fenn looked down at her bare feet, then back up at Zira. Slowly, she smiled. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
Zira grinned, jumping off the bench. “We’ll meet back here tonight. Bring your scarf and whatever else you want to take. This is our chance, Fenn.”
“Tonight,” Fenn repeated, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the two girls parted ways, each heading home to prepare for the adventure that would change their lives forever.
