Khia's not completely reliant. Of course she knows there is a way out; of course she's tried it. It took several days of planning, and watching, and the desperation she couldn't forget. She didn't want to leave her brother behind, but he'd leave the basement one day; Khia knew all she'd ever amount to at the Bayard's would be being another queen in a another cage. No one wants she-kits; no one decent.
One morning she left her brother with a sloppy lick on his cheek, and snuck up the stairs in the quiet stealthy way she has adopted. Khia skirted the guards and cages and toms alike, gave the snoring cat by the door a narrowed glace. Then she was through the flap, breathing in air, filled with smog as it was, that was ten times clearer than the dim gloom of the house. She took one step down a path, overgrown with weeds and sporting more cracks than a tabby had stripes.
She made it to the end of the path before she realized moving one inch further was a sudden impossibility.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't leave, and she hated herself for it. Hated that her bravado was nothing without her brother.
Rhydderch found her ten minutes later, and took her back without a word.