[img]https://i.imgur.com/ZkY6NBJ.png[/img]



Rook couldn't remember the last time he was outside.

For so long, all he knew was the box and the voice. The voice would ask him questions, and he would answer them, and answer them, and answer them, until the voice was happy. Sometimes he answered a question wrong, and the voice would yell at him, saying that he was going to be a failure. Other times, the voice would congratulate him, saying he did a good job. Sometimes he would ask the voice something, and it would stop talking to him. After a while, the voice would ask him more questions, like nothing happened.

He hated the voice, he realized. But he couldn't do anything about it. He would go to sleep, and he would wake up, and he would be-

...not in the box. He looked up, confused, until the memories came back to him. Waking up to the door opening. Flying, for the first time in so long, away from the hated place. The running and the rain, never ending. 

He looked up, and he could see the others were still asleep. He saw Flick sitting at the edge of their cave...and he saw the sunlight. [i]Finally[/i], he thought. The endless rain was over, and he saw sunlight for the first time in years. For a while, he sat there, lying down, taking in the beauty of the sun. He finally sat up a bit, and went over what they learned last night in his head.

A city, he said. There was a city nearby. It was dangerous, but there was food there. And they needed the food. Maybe there was a way to sustain the group in the forest, he thought to himself, as Flick left the cave. He'd have to bring it up, he thought, as he sat up, looking at the rest of the group.