Regret. A Chicken Run story
Summary: I always wanted to know how Rocky was feeling up until his brief escape/abandonment of the chickens. So I typed it out.
Rocky laid in Fowler's bunk, the old Rooster had recently given it up for him, since he had saved Ginger.
Or. Well. Ginger saved him.
Rocky laid under the Union-Jack, and he stared up at the wooden ceiling endless thoughts running through his mind, what would happen if they found out, if she found out?
Despite their earlier troubles, Rocky had taken a liking to Ginger, a special kind of liking that he couldn’t quite place. She had saved his life, saving him from drowning in the salty bitterness that was Gravy.
And he took all the credit for it. That was one reason for his gut having this sinking feeling. The other was his dirty secret.
The stuff he tried to keep buried beneath the dirt, such as the truth about his flying.
Rocky couldn’t fly, no. He was shot out of a cannon, and he did so day after day, never ending firing, the ringmaster would insult him, threaten to sell him for meat if he failed a single stunt.
The way he escaped was helped because the stadium was roofless, therefore he wouldn’t land directly as planned. He knew whether he wound up, it’d be better than being a prisoner of the circus.
That’s when he met Ginger, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got into that coop, but Ginger was the first hen he laid his eyes upon.
At first, she despised him, found him irritating, and when he’d get distracted during his “lessons”, she grew to despise him even more. He called her Dollface to try and soften her up, to get on her good side. However it bloomed into something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to explore.
Not after what he had planned.
He took the badge Fowler had gifted him, and laid it down gently on the bunk, and then the ripped bottom of his torn poster.
Rocky then sat up, noting the old teaspoon he hid under the bunk the night before, and he took it. He slid out of the hut door and walked towards the fence.
Nobody was out that night, it was too late. And he had his chance.
He shoveled lump after lump of dirt, and then crawled under the fence. He had successfully broken free. Broken out.
But at what cost? He’d never get to see the farm again, see Ginger again. That thought hit him in the gut, and he felt like he could cry. But he pushed it deep inside, deep into the pit of his stomach he didn’t want to acknowledge. The one that yearned for the emerald eyed hen.
Rocky stepped forward, and exited the farm grounds, before then setting up camp for the night, and then he rested his head, and fell asleep.
Hoping the sleep would dissipate the regret.
