Penny pressed her blue blanket against her snout and tried to stop shaking. The world beyond the farm felt too big, too loud, too full of things that might hurt her. Every rustle in the bushes could be a predator. Every shadow could be a farmer with a clipboard. Every stranger could be dangerous. But one stranger noticed. A lean rabbit stood near a stone cottage, watching Penny tremble beneath an oak tree. The rabbit approached slowly, paws open and empty. "I know what fear looks like," the rabbit said. "Would you like to learn something brave?" Penny clutched her blanket tighter. The rabbit pointed toward wooden platforms stretched between the trees, connected by rope bridges that swayed in the breeze. "One step at a time. That's all courage is." Penny's hooves wouldn't move. The rabbit pulled a stone medallion from her neck and held it out. Symbols covered its surface—tiny seeds sprouting into vines, vines growing into trees. "I earned this when I learned to climb," the rabbit said. "You could earn one too. But you'll need your hooves free." Penny looked at the medallion, then at her blanket, then at the swaying bridges above. Her stomach hurt, but not from missing her mother this time. This was different. This was choice. Penny folded her blanket and set it at the base of the oak tree. Her hooves felt cold without it. The rabbit smiled and gestured toward the first platform. "Just to there," she said. "Then you can stop if you want." Penny took one step forward, then another. The blanket stayed behind her, blue against the grass. She didn't look back.