Brutus was in no means in a rush for Pixie.
She darted ahead across the grass, little paws tapping excitedly against the ground, her fluffy tail flicking like a feather in the wind. “Brutus! Come on! You have to meet them!” she squeaked, her voice bubbling with excitement.
He trailed behind with his usual heavy steps, unmoved by her energy. He’d learned long ago that rushing rarely led to anything good. Especially when it came to strangers.
The new animal stood at the edge of the yard—young, wide-eyed, and clearly nervous. A rabbit, twitching its nose and shifting its weight between tiny paws. It wasn’t doing anything threatening... but Brutus had seen sweet faces hide sharp fangs before.
He came to a stop in front of Pixie, positioning his broad, scarred frame slightly between her and the newcomer. His eyes narrowed, scanning the rabbit from ears to claws. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, gravelly, and firm.
“I don’t know you.” His tail gave a single flick. “And I don’t trust what I don’t know.”
Pixie blinked up at him, clearly confused by his tone. “But Brutus, they’re nice! I can tell! They’re soft and bouncy and they said they like dandelions too!”
Brutus didn’t take his eyes off the rabbit. “Cute doesn’t mean harmless, Pixie.” He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, letting the weight of his size speak before his words did. “Let’s get something clear, bunny. That kitten behind me?” He jerked his head slightly in Pixie’s direction. “She’s too trusting. Thinks the world is full of sunshine and butterflies.”
A quiet pause. His eyes narrowed. “You do anything to shatter that... even once... and I’ll make sure you don’t get a second chance.” The rabbit swallowed hard, ears trembling slightly. Brutus gave a final look—less of a threat, more of a warning etched deep into silence.
Then, after a moment, he stepped back. “...Welcome to the yard.”
Pixie beamed. “See? He likes you!”
Brutus huffed quietly through his nose. He didn’t. Not yet. But he didn’t dislike them either.
And for now... that was enough.