Chapter 7: A Daring Escape
The pen is a muddy mess, and we chickens are drenched, our feathers slicked down to our bodies, making us look like drowned rats.
As we stand drenched, our eggs poached, Peking Duck prowls along the edge of the pen, his eyes locked on Tandoori, his feathers ruffled in anger. It's like a scene from a Western movie but without the cowboy hats or the tumbleweeds. Mother Hen watches the spectacle from her perch, a smug expression on her face.
Just when it seems like the tension couldn't get any higher, the farmer's daughter finally arrives home. She's carrying crates of chickens, and she looks tired but triumphant.
"The sprinklers are on you, buffoon. Are you trying to drown them!" she snaps at a farmhand who had been snoozing all afternoon. His startled face is
