She will run with all of the abandon and fearlessness of someone that has never known hurt or captivity.
Dirt will rise up behind her as she launches herself from the earth, and into the sky.
The gates are closed for now, but this is not her prison.
This is her tarmac. This is her launch pad.
She has never been more free than she is right now.
This is what she will dream about when she is old and her bones ache.
She does not have wings, but she will fly.
This is what she was made for.