I. Hop into the Unknown

'Brek! Get your rabbit ass over here, now!'

Oh, how he hated that name. He had told her time and time again not to call him that. It was the name his mother gave him when he was born. He had changed it as soon as he found out his father was actually his stepfather, and he himself was the result of his mother getting drugged and raped.

He slowly made his way over to the living room, where his girlfriend gathered some of her personal items and put them in her purse.

'I'm going out with the girls tonight. I'll be back at midnight, so don't wait up for me. I expect the dishes to be done when I get back.'

After two years of living with Azalea, he knew pretty much everything she wanted and when. He also knew not to interrupt her or make sarcastic comments, because she would just make up additional chores.

'While you're at it, clean the kitchen. And have a load of laundry done. Be in your room when I come back and don't let me see your face before tomorrow morning.'

He knew why. Sometimes, she would take home guys and have her way with them. Rabbits, hares, other somewhat related species - Azalea wasn't too picky. This time, she could be sure she wouldn't see him before sunrise. Ever since she had thrown a full pot of tea at him a few days ago - and only barely missed him - it suddenly dawned on him that he didn't have to endure all this if he didn't want to. It was as if all the fear for whatever she threatened to do to him if he ever left her, had dissolved on that instant. From that moment on, Rowan had been planning his escape.

There were some obstacles, however. They lived in an apartment on the sixth floor, and Azalea always locked the door when she left. Rowan didn't have a key. Second, the collar he wore around his neck wasn't just locked, it had a GPS tracker attached to it as well. As soon as he would leave the house, she would get a message.

To prevent that message, he had sabotaged her phone. When it was charging earlier, he had put pulled the charger out just a little bit, so it wouldn't actually charge. Shortly before it would be done, he put Azalea's phone in her purse and tidied up her charger somewhere else.

This way, the battery of her phone would probably be dead somewhere in the next two hours. Rowan would be left with only one hurdle: leaving the apartment. In case his plan failed, or Azalea would notice her battery status and return home for her charger, he reluctantly started doing the dishes. When he had finally cleaned the kitchen, an hour and a half had passed.

Rowan decided he had waited long enough. He went to his room and changed into the least down-ridden clothes he could find. Worn jeans, a faded shirt, and a hoodie that had clearly known better days.

He looked at his reflection in the hallway mirror. A dull-eyed buck stared back at him, with chestnut fur that had lost every kind of shine. This attempt had to succeed, or it would cost him all will to live. Then again, if Azalea would catch him, his life would be over anyway.

He went to her bedroom and searched for anything of value - money, a front door key, or the key to the stainless steel chastity cage he had worn for the past two years. All he came across was a small safe one typically finds in the closet of a hotel room.

'That's probably where she keeps my ID as well, but what could the code be?' he said to himself.

He tried her birthday, then his birthday, then the day they met. None of those dates unlocked the safe. After the third attempt, the device beeped and the screen showed an error message. For the next two hours, all attempts to open the safe would be blocked.

'I should have tried the date she locked me up,' he muttered in defeat. 'If I got to wait for this thing to give me another three attempts, I might as well stay here.'

Now was as good a time to leave as ever. He didn't own shoes anymore - he hadn't left the house for over a year - but he did still have a jacket. It was designed for late Spring and early Autumn, however, and it was almost Winter now. Still, with the wind and rain outside, it would be better than no coat. He carefully threaded his long ears through the holes in his hoodie. Some rabbits just put their ears down when they wore a hood, but Rowan was always annoyed by the loss of perception that came with tucking his ears.

With one last look over his shoulder, he opened the door that lead to the balcony. Azalea never locked that door, because why would she? There was barbed wire on their sides of the stained glass panes that separated the balconies. He figured Azalea did want to prevent him from just climbing to their neighbor's balcony, knocking, and leaving through their front door. His only option would be to drop down to the balcony of their downstairs neighbors, and surely, he would not do that. Would he?

'Think again', he said to himself, ignoring the cold raindrops that hit his face. He climbed over the railing and lowered himself as far as he could while hanging on to the bars. He grabbed the edge of the concrete and swung onto the balcony of their downstairs neighbors. The lights in that apartment were off, so he assumed nobody had seen him yet.

One floor down, five more to go. With this rain, the chance of slipping gets higher every minute.The slightest mistake might kill me, he thought.

Rowan looked around and wagered his options. There was a fire escape on the outside of the building, one balcony over to the side. If he could get around the stained glass pane that separated the balconies of the gallery, he could jump to the fire exit and climb down relatively safely. In the next apartment, however, the lights were on. He had to climb around the glass pane, hanging five stories up in the air, without attracting attention.

The dire nature of the situation did not allow for hesitation. He climbed on top of the railing, quickly moved around the glass pane, and landed on the next balcony. Immediately, he let himself drop to the floor. For a few seconds, he listened tentatively, hoping there were no sudden sounds in the apartment of the neighbors he didn't even know. There was no way he could explain his situation, or make up any other reasonable explanation as to how he ended up on someone else's balcony, without carrying a key to his own front door.

Seconds felt like minutes, and Rowan soon decided he had to continue. A five foot gap separated the side railing from the fire exit, a ladder surrounded by vertical metal bars. Rowan, being five foot six - not counting his ears - realized it would be a close call. The railing was too high to use as a stepping stone in his jump, and he couldn't exactly try again. Instead, he climbed on the railing, stretched out his arms, bent his knees, and took a leap of faith.

To Rowan, it felt like this jump would be decisive. Either he would make it and escape, or he would miss, drop five stories down, break his neck, and die. There was nothing in between. His hands made contact with the bars surrounding the fire exit, followed by his feet. Finally, the rest of his body crashed against the metal bars, absorbing the impact. His chastity cage ended up against one of the bars, sending a searing pain through his balls. It took all his effort to neither scream nor fall down.

A few seconds later, Rowan felt his hands slip, and realized he had to climb down before gravity would do the job for him. Unfortunately, the bars fully encased the ladder, so he had to stay on the outside of the bars. He descended as fast as he could, slowly sliding down the wet metal. When he reached the lower end of the bars, he was still one story up in the air. The last part of the ladder could only be lowered from the inside, to prevent burglars from getting in. He had no other choice but to drop down and hope for the best.

Unfortunately, "the best" wasn't what happened. An evening worth of rain had turned the pavement slippery. When Rowan landed on the sidewalk, he almost lost his balance. In a reflex, he put his weight on his left paw, which made him collapse in pain. He got up as fast as he could, to stay as relatively dry as possible.

Every second mattered, especially in case Azalea's phone hadn't run out of battery yet. He had to get away as fast as he could first, then find a way to disable the tracking device. Rowan quickly looked around. The street was deserted, and he estimated nobody had seen him fall down. He limped, stumbled and practically hopscotched as fast as his uninjured paw would carry him, away from that dreaded street. A few minutes passed before he left the neighborhood, and half an hour later, he had fled the city.

By now, his pants were drenched and his left paw hurt like hell. The road out of town soon traded plains for a forest, where Rowan had some shelter from the rain. Sparse streetlights allowed him to search for a sturdy branch he could support himself with, to minimize the amount of weight he needed to put on his injured paw. In the back of his mind, he constantly worried about the tracker. Only a few cars passed, but every time that happened, he was afraid Azalea was on his tail.

Rowan had been walking down the side of the road for an hour now, during which the weather conditions had worsened. Even though he had some coverage from nearby trees, his coat didn't provide much protection against the wind and the rain. The initial adrenaline of his escape had subsided, and Rowan could hardly ignore the dire circumstances he had ended up in.

He was chilled to the bone, and would probably catch a cold if he stayed out in this weather. On top of that, exhaustion began to settle in. He would need to find a place to sleep or rest, or he might collapse. All Rowan could think about was to keep on walking. Every step he could put between himself and Azalea might be crucial.

Just when his head started aching from the cold rain, he heard the sound of a car closing in. He turned to see if Azalea had finally caught up with him, but the big square headlights didn't match the round-shaped city car she owned. Suddenly, the light became less intense and Rowan heard the car's engine slow down. A sturdy all-terrain vehicle passed him and he saw the red brake lights as it stopped a few dozen yards in front of him. The driver then slowly backed up, until they stopped right next to Rowan.

The right side window was rolled down, and a female voice called out to him.

'Are you alright? Can I take you anywhere?'

'Anywhere would be fine, as long as it's away from Hornet City.'

'In that case, get in.'

Rowan dropped the branch, opened the car door and heaved himself into the passenger seat. He couldn't see the face of the driver clearly, but her hands on the wheel told him her fur was jet black. A golden ring on her right hand signified she was probably married. He had never seen this woman before, and he was fairly sure she wasn't one of Azalea's friends.

'What were you doing out here, alone, in the rain?' the woman said as she started driving.

'Long story,' Rowan said, trying to ignore his headache. 'Do you mind if I tell you the short version?'

'Not at all.'

'Basically, I dated the wrong girl and it took me two years to draw the conclusion she treats me like a slave. I'm wearing a locked collar with a GPS tracker, and I'm terrified she knows where I am.'

'Why the tracker?'

'I'm not allowed to leave her apartment. I don't even own a key to the front door.'

'Then how did you get out?'

'I climbed down on the outside of the fire escape. It went better than I expected, until I had to drop down the last floor. I hurt my paw in the process, and I'm not sure if it's broken.'

Suddenly, the car slowed down. The woman carefully made a U-turn and began driving back towards the city.

'What are you doing? You're not bringing me back to Azalea, are you? I want out!'

'You want out? Back in the pouring rain?'

A flash of light struck in the distance, as if to answer the woman's question.

'Don't be afraid. I'm only taking you to the hospital. If your paw is broken, you need medical attention.'

'But what about my collar? She'll track me to the hospital, and knowing how manipulative Azalea can be, she'll put up some sob story to get to me.'

'Then you're going to explicitly tell the receptionist what you just said. I'll stay with you the entire time.'

'Really? Why would you do that? You don't even know me?'

'Because you need help, and if I were in your situation, I'd be desperate for someone kind enough to even notice me. Speaking of us being strangers, I'm Celester.'

'You can call me Rowan.'

'Alright. Were you planning on going anywhere specific before you hurt yourself?'

'Not really. Come to think of it, I was so focused on escaping, I didn't even consider a place to sleep, or my next meal. What about you?'

'My mate and I recently bought a house outside of town, just on the other side of that small forest. I had an appointment earlier this evening that took a lot more of my time than I expected. Consider yourself lucky, Rowan. If everything went according to plan today, we never would've met.'

Celester chuckled.

With that statement, the two fell into a comfortable silence. Rowan finally noticed the pleasant temperature in the car, in contrast to his cold wet clothes. His constant fear of Azalea being around every corner faded as his breathing slowly calmed down.

They arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes later. Celester put the handbrake on the car and switched on the light at the rear view mirror. She instructed Rowan to sit still for a moment. For a while he could hear Celester mutter foul words under her breath, as she tinkered with his collar. In what felt like just a few seconds, they heard a soft metal click, after which Celester quickly removed the collar and switched the light off again.

'How did you do that without a key?' he asked, turning around.

She showed him a pair of hair pins that had seen better days.

'I picked the lock'.

'Why do you even know how to do that?'

'Let's say I used to be a troublemaker in my teenage years,' she laughed.

It was a quiet night at the emergency room, and they didn't have to wait long before Rowan's name was called. Celester wished him good luck and stayed in the waiting room. He returned a while later, wearing some kind of sleeve on his paw and supporting himself with a crutch. Celester stood at the receptionist's desk, holding a small screwdriver, tinkering with Rowan's newly removed collar. When she noticed him, she triumphantly held up a small black square object.

'I took the battery pack out. If Azalea tracked your location, this is the last place she'll be able to trace you to.'

She handed a small folded piece of paper to the fox behind the desk.

'If a sandy furred rabbit doe by the name of Azalea Rosewood comes by asking for Mr. Buckthorn, would you be so kind as to give her this?'

The fox nodded.

'Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.'

Celester offered her arm to help Rowan, and guided him to her car. Once they both sat in their seats again, the rabbit couldn't suppress his curiosity.

'What did you just hand over to that fox?'

'A note,' she said, matter-of-factly.

'I was referring to what's on the note.'

'A goodbye to your ex-girlfriend. It says "Dear Azalea, fuck you very much. Kind regards, Rowan".'