Tamara avoids the waitress, an anthro-deer, yelping, running away from her, stills cared, adrenalin rushing through her veins. Her bloodstream is filled with adrenalin, which gives her a suprising strenght and speed, keeping her running despite the pain from her cut, her little cub heart pounding so hard and fast, her tongue sticking out of her muzzle, panting, her muscles aching from the unusual run.<br/><br/>She doesn't want to get hit again. She doesn't want to get caught by them. She doesn't want to get beaten again. She doesn't want to get hurt again. Because they are going to hurt her. That giant zebra with her broomstick thingie. That other giant deer, with her big and scary paws. It was a trap, a beautiful and shining and delicious trap, but a trap nonetheless. Just a more elaborated trap, but, in the end, it's the same than when she was hiding on the streets. Than when she was lured by thoses big guys, who sued small bits of deliciously smelling food to catch her, then used her for their fun. Such a small furred creature than her makes for an excellent ball for any kind of sport, and the terrorized and pain-filled noises it makes adds to the fun.