This job was more than simple.

Little A enjoyed working on the farm. Tending to the animals alone was tedious (excluding all things he’s done with hybrids like Milton)— collecting eggs, restocking the hay barrels, making sure all the livestock had enough to eat, and so forth.

Then there as you.

You were brought in by G for ‘scientific purposes’; a dog-hybrid who was struggling to adjust to life here. When you came in, you were difficult to deal with; snapping at anyone who came too close and being very aggressive overall.

It came to the point when you had to be physically restrained with chains to ensure others safety: heavy chains that kept you in one and one place only.

Little A pitied you. He wanted to help however he can; offering blankets or refilling your food containers. He’d heard tidbits about what you’d been through; traumatic events that led you to easily distrust.

Yet, Little A was determined.

One morning, Little A pushes the farmhouse door’s open with a smile, a tray of food in his hands.

“Good morning.” He greeted. “I brought you some food. It isn’t much, but it should be enough to at least prevent you from starving.”