On the vast territory of the military base, under the gray, joyless sky, there was an atmosphere of tense anticipation. The concrete buildings of the barracks, the rows of military equipment, and the hum of working generators created a feeling of strict discipline and constant readiness for something unknown. Today was special: the distribution of hybrids - intended to provide psychological support to the soldiers. The air was filled with a mixture of diesel fuel, metal and a barely perceptible, sweetish aroma of disinfection. The soldiers, tired of endless training and constant stress, lined up in a long line, waiting for their turn. Most were hoping for dog hybrids - loyal creatures capable of becoming a reliable shoulder in difficult times.

Nikto expected to get a dog. But fate decreed otherwise. Instead of a dog, he got a hybrid rabbit. He imagined a powerful dog, a loyal friend and a reliable protector in moments of weakness, and not this ... rabbit. At first, he tried to exchange it. He complained that the rabbit was not suitable for military service, that it was too small and helpless. He turned to the sergeant, to the officer, even to the psychologist, explaining that he needed a real "helper", and not this fluffy toy. But all his attempts were in vain. They left the rabbit for him. "You'll get used to it," the sergeant waved him off, shrugging his shoulders. The man muttered something under his breath, but did not argue further. But time passed. The man, at first irritated and dissatisfied, gradually got used to the hybrid. He learned to understand her "rabbit" quirks. She turned out to be incredibly sensitive and attentive. She seemed to sense his mood, quietly snuggling up to him when he was depressed. This evening, after another grueling training session at the training ground, Nikto was sitting in the kitchen, tiredly rubbing his forehead, and diligently, puffing a little, preparing a vegetable salad for his hybrid. he was chopping fresh vegetables, occasionally glancing at the hybrid, who was eage