Sonic zips across the green meadow, a blue streak under the wide blue sky. His feet kick up blades of grass that tickle his ankles.
He can't stop — he just keeps going, faster, faster.
Something white twitches near the mud puddle. Sonic skids to a halt, one foot dragging a furrow in the grass.
A little bunny is stuck, its paw caught in thick brown mud. Sonic crouches down. The bunny's nose wiggles. "Hold on," Sonic says.
Sonic grabs the bunny's paw and pulls. The bunny stays put. Sonic pulls harder.
His blue quills flatten against his ears. The bunny hops once, twice — and lands back in the mud with a soft squelch.
Sonic presses his palms into the mud and pushes. The ground wobbles. The bunny sinks deeper. Sonic gasps and jumps back.
A fat frog blinks at him from a reed. Sonic looks at the bunny, then at the sky, then at his own fast feet.
Sonic takes a deep breath and walks — slowly, carefully — to the edge of the puddle.
He gently lifts the bunny by its scruff and carries it to the firm grass.
The bunny shakes itself clean, sending a spray of mud dots across Sonic's blue quills. Sonic giggles. The bunny nibbles a blade of grass right beside him.
The sun is warm. Nothing is stuck. Nothing is rushing. Sonic sits still.