Confinement

Escape.
To my right, large black flat rocks stretched over little posts. From the conversations I overheard, they were called "Tay-bulls". On these tay-bulls were little flat pieces of white stuff that the two-legs were repeatedly doing something to with bright orange sticks in their hands. I was curious to know what they were, but too afraid to move. I had heard tales like this from the mad-men in my town, but I always thought that their stories of two-leg abductions were just a load of bubbles.
Now I knew better.