She landed so ever gently on the ground, twigs all over, but those snow white paws fell perfectly on the perfect spots, twigs-free. Unsure of how she got there, she wandered around, oblivious that it was no friendly environment that she was in. Sheep, wolves, porcupines and everything. What she thought would be freedom caged her, and that was irreversible. She soon came to realize that purring built a wall of segregation. There, they keep quiet in the most chaotic manner, and yet, everything silently follows various plans unknown. She learnt to fluff up and blend in the flock of sheep, she learnt to disguise herself sometimes and pounce upon her own “kind”. Well, sometimes she just curls up and pushes everyone away. Down the road, from one tree to another, this liana to the next. Dawns to dusks, the light diminishes, the white turns grey, and all loses its shine. She clothed herself in dust, little did she know that those were no pixie dust. The dust made her sick, she fell harder every time, deeper. She thought it was for the best, to overtake the rest. Bruised and scarred, and still fighting. History will repeat, and she will regret.