Even through the thick wrapping it could sense the power of release. The clay waited patiently while the folds of newspaper were removed from its curved body. It seemed like eons since its pores last breathed the moving air. Blinded by light, it lay impassive as it allowed the dust to swirl curiously around its form, settling into the round lines of its tail and between the nooks of its paws. Nails scraped along its body, harshly scratching at its exposed skin, still fragile after so much time alone in the damp darkness. The rabbit was turned upside down. Its ears hung above the ground, listening for the sound of the heavy footsteps of the man who had hidden him away. His scent lingered, but there were other, more recent smells too. The strong tinge of enamel paint, the rubbery smell of caulk, and a brush encrusted with polyurethane. Then there was the scent of the woman. Flowery and strong, it spoke to the clay of disguises. It shrank away from the nails and the chemical-tinged perfume, turning back to the fading memory of the potter's hands.
