Waddle.

The line that tied him down, keeping him attached to the unremarkable, became disconnected a moment ago.
There it is…flying away, up to the clear blue sky; a streamer, twisting, finding its natural shape and charting a new and unfamiliar course. Caught by an upwind, taken higher and higher and further and further away.
The longer you look, the smaller it is.
Like the fitful penguin purposely cut loose from his herd, rejecting the norm to waddle away from the water across five thousand miles of iced interior. Uncertain why, motivated by instinct.

Off to look for streamers, perhaps.

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