Buck had standards. After two decades in fairyland trapped in a dirty yard in the form of a goat he refused to walk around in dirty clothes if he had any choice in the matter, which is why he was loading the last of his laundry in a coin-operated commercial dryer. Just as he had done with the last load, which he was now wearing, he caught his reflection in the hatch as he closed it.
"Jesus Christ..." He mutters to himself. If he ignored the obvious differences, he looked just like his father. He shook his head - that wound had scabbed over into a dull ache a long time ago, he didn't have time to pick at it now. He knew there were others out there, that there were others who had escaped like he had, from different owners. But the city was big and he had no idea where to go looking for them. With a *clink* that echoed quietly in the empty Laundromat, he rested his forehead on the spinning dryer.
He wasn't going to just keep running forever.
At least... he hoped he wasn't.