Captivity was all Henrietta had ever known. Sure she had a place to sleep and plenty of food, but she longed for something more.

Everyday was the same thing.  Sit in the nest box lay an egg and it would be taken away from her. She never questioned it.

Others would come and go, but it was always the same.

The little band around her ankle seemed to grow heavier and colder with each passing day.

One day while she was scratching in the run and pecking at the ground she heard a faint voice on the breeze.

"They're coming for you next," It said.

"Who? Who is coming for me?" Henrietta asked in a panic.

"I wouldn't wait to find out, if I were you," the voice rasped.

"What should I do?" Henrietta begged.

"Escape," came the reply.

"But how shall I do that?" She asked.

"Dig," whispered the voice.

"And where shall I go?" Henrietta inquired.

"Find me in the woods beyond the creek. I shall be waiting for you. But hurry you only have a few days."

Henrietta squawked her acknowledgement. She paced back and forth along the fence of the run looking for a spot to dig.

She found a corner that was out of sight where the ground was soft and wet. She didn't want to make a cloud of dust after all. She nestled down along the wood base of the fence and began to scratch with her claws.

She did this for what seemed like hours and got up to inspect her work. She had barely made a small trench, but it was time to retire to her nest box to lay. She would try again tomorrow.

By the end of the next day Henrietta had made more progress. She was able to get her head below the board.

That night she slept well.

By the end of the third day she was almost able to squeeze through.

"You better hurry," the voice said the next morning. "They are coming for you."

Henrietta looked around anxiously and froze when she saw the farmers coming with a burlap sack in hand.

She scratched as fast as she could until she was finally able to crawl under.

Henrietta shook the dirt from her feathers and she ran as fast as her little legs would carry her.

She reached the edge of the creek before she looked back. Henrietta heard the farmer curse, when he found the hole and her gone.

"Now I need to find a way across this creek," she thought out loud.

Henrietta searched frantically for a way to cross. That is when she saw the fallen branch laying halfway out into the water. She took a deep breath and ran toward  the edge of the water, leaping into the air and flapping her wings.

Henrietta stumbled when she landed on the log and dug her talons in to keep herself from falling into the water. Righting herself she quickly dashed the rest of the way across the top of the log.

When she reached the edge of the woods she called out, "Hello?"

"You made it out and not a moment too soon," the voice seemed to echo around her.

"Who are you?" Henrietta asked the darkness.

"I was a prisoner like you once, but I managed to escape that world long ago. Now I live off the land and do as I please." The voice said.

Slowly a haggard old hen strut out of the shadows. Her feathers had turned gray and in spots were gone altogether. She wore a rusted band around her foot just like the one Henrietta wore.

"Who are you?" Henrietta asked inspecting the older hen. She circled her circling her in awe and reverence.

"My name is Sonia, it's nice to finally meet you. In all my years you were the first to heed my call."

"How long have you been out here?" Henrietta inquired.

"It's been five years now," Sonia replied. "It is my mission to free every last one in that coop. I was about to give up hope until you finally escaped. I want you to help me."

"Help you? How?"

"I want you to help me free them. I need you to go back there and convince more to come with us. But you must be careful  not to be caught." The two hens planned the rest of the day.

At nightfall, Henrietta returned to the coop as planned and whispered through the floor boards to the rest of the hens inside.

At sunrise when the farmers son came in with their feed. The angry chickens swarmed him and knocked him to the floor, pecking at his flesh and eyes until he was a bloody mess. With the door propped open by the fallen body they all fled into the woods. Never to be imprisoned again.