Eyes in the dark

With his body blocking the doorway, the cold air flooded in unchecked. Shaun's body rapidly lost heat, his skin turning pale as frostbite began to form. His breath barely produced a mist in the frigid air, and his heart slowed to a dangerously low rate.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of beady eyes watched from the shadows.

Despite his exhaustion, Shaun had managed to drag the rabbit into his room, worried it might freeze to death outside. What he hadn't realized was that the rabbit had already broken free from the Wrap Trap as he was pulling it up. He didn't notice because he had bundled the rabbit in another sheet to avoid accidentally deactivating the trap.

The rabbit's eyes shifted from the open door to Shaun's limp form. It had been captured twice by this human, and now was the perfect chance to escape. But the scent of blood and the creature's labored breathing pulled it back. The memory of the human's earlier mercy—an inexplicable kindness—lingered in its instincts. Reluctantly, it hopped back to Shaun, inching closer until it was right beside him.

Shaun's heart was barely beating now, his body stiffening as the cold took hold. He was seconds away from death.

The rabbit tapped its feet, as if pondering its next move. Then, with a determined flick of its ears, it bent down, stretching its forelegs and balancing its weight on its back leg. It emitted a low-pitched vibrating sound from its belly, causing its body to warm. Its fur puffed up, creating an insulating layer of heat as it rubbed itself against Shaun's freezing body.

After several minutes, the warmth was enough to stave off the worst of the frostbite, but it hadn't revived Shaun. His heart was still slowing, and without circulation, the renewed warmth would be pointless.

The rabbit seemed to sense this. It hopped onto Shaun's torso, positioning itself over his heart, and began vibrating again, this time more intensely. The vibrations grew weaker with each passing moment, the rabbit's energy clearly waning, but it persisted, fighting to keep Shaun alive. Finally, as exhaustion overtook it, the rabbit curled up into a ball on Shaun's chest, its body going still.

By the twelfth hour of the night, Shaun stirred, his body aching and stiff. His breath was shaky, and pain pulsed from his injuries. As he blinked awake, the first thing he noticed was the small, cold body of the rabbit on his chest. He cradled it weakly, his mind foggy, yet somehow he knew—it had saved him. Struggling, he pulled himself to his feet, still holding the rabbit gently in his arms.

He closed the door, sealing off the cold draft, and added another blanket to the bed. Climbing under the covers with the rabbit still in his arms, Shaun let out a shaky breath. Despite their rough introduction, they had saved each other. As the night hours dragged on, both man and rabbit finally slept.

When the day hours arrived, the rabbit was the first to stir, its beady eyes snapping open to survey its surroundings. Shaun, on the other hand, slept on for another two hours, blissfully unaware of the small creature perched on his chest. When he finally groggily opened his eyes, he nearly jumped out of his skin. The rabbit was staring right at him, its expression unreadable.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with awkward tension. Shaun's heart raced—not out of fear, but out of pure, unfiltered awkwardness. The rabbit, clearly feeling the same, quickly averted its gaze, its tiny body tensing as if embarrassed to have been caught.

Apparently, both of them were the type to show affection only when the other wasn't conscious.

Deep down, Shaun was trying to keep his thoughts in check, but all he could think was, "I want to pet it, I want to pet it, I want to pet it..."

Needing some fresh air, Shaun decided to step outside, hoping a little time in the sun would help his battered body heal. He gathered some leftover food and started a small fire, the warmth a welcome relief from the dissipating death chill just hours ago. As the flames crackled, the rabbit quietly hopped over and settled beside him, both of them staring into the fire in a silence that was oddly comforting yet undeniably awkward.

Shaun let out a deep sigh, the sound unexpectedly echoed by a small squeak from the rabbit. They both turned to look at each other, as if trying to decipher what the other was thinking, before silently returning their gaze to the cooking food.

In that moment, they resembled two strangers who had shared a wild night out, only to wake up the next morning with a hazy memory and no clue what the other's name was.

"So, uh… thanks for last night," Shaun muttered awkwardly.

"Chi Chi Chi..." the rabbit squeaked back, shaking its head as if to say it was nothing.

Shaun nodded, "Yeah, well… thanks anyway."

"Chi Chi," the rabbit replied.

Only after a few minutes of staring at the food did Shaun realize he'd been talking to a rabbit. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. To cover it up, he picked up an empty can and half-heartedly tossed it at the rabbit. The rabbit dodged nimbly, then shot Shaun a look that practically screamed, "Seriously? Mood swings much?" Shaun could almost hear the sarcastic squeak, which, naturally, only made him more annoyed.

But then he remembered how the rabbit had saved his life, and with a reluctant sigh, he decided to let it slide.

The rabbit, sensing Shaun's mood had improved, took a cautious step closer. Then, suddenly, its ears perked up, and it spun around as if something had startled it. Shaun followed its gaze, scanning the area for whatever had spooked his small companion.

A few seconds of tense silence passed, and just as Shaun was about to relax, he felt something warm and… unnervingly squishy against his toes. He glanced down to find six or seven small brown marbles rolling around his feet. The smell hit him a split second later, and his stomach lurched.

"What the—?!" Shaun slapped a hand over his mouth, fighting the sudden wave of nausea.

The rabbit, oblivious to Shaun's disgust, continued its business, its tiny body shuddering with effort. Shaun, on the other hand, had seen enough. He took the opportunity to nudge the rabbit away with his foot, sending it skittering across the ground.

With a surprised, high-pitched "Squeeee!!!" the rabbit tumbled away, a series of indignant squeaks trailing in its wake. The echo of the squeal bounced down the cliffside, startling a few unseen creatures below, sending them scattering in all directions.