_{So he had fallen into this trap, where he knew he couldn’t escape. But he kept reaching for it, he knew he could. There was this empty spot, just a little place to chill, he assumed. After all Roscoe was just looking for a place to kick back, maybe call his own? Well there he was, and this beautiful tangled green was just sitting there, under his feet, calling his name. Sending toned legs off into a sporadic canter, his neck arched in search of the watcher of these grounds. He slows once he’d realized it was just him and an old Loon near the pond. Sharp squeals rose as he dove into it’s waddling step, sending the dirty bird off into the air, yelping away in hot pursuit. Cooling off, Roscoe decided he would maybe stay here for a little longer, stick around till the old watchman shows up. Why not, there’s no one else it seems ever lived here for more than a week. One last call for comfort, but there’s no one around. A short attack to freedom, this place is his. Roscoe just laid out a trot through the grass, calling out a short goodbye. Now this is it.}