A human soldier from a doomed futuristic civilization traverses through the fabrics of space and time to flee mankind's imminent extinction, only to stumble upon Zootopia - a diverse world unlike any other. Namely, an antiquated society filled with...
Turning back now seemed futile; I was already in their field of vision. The bunnies, with their remarkably keen hearing, instantly noticed my approach. The younger one, positioned inside the stand, watched me intently while her parents – unloading crates nearby – froze in shock. The mother, clad in a royal blue plaid shirt, instinctively moved closer to her husband, who wore a light blue plaid shirt and tan overalls under a green cap.
The father's grip loosened on the crate, his eyes widening. "Oh... cripes," he murmured, dropping the crate as he stared at me like an otherworldy anomaly.
As I cautiously stepped forward, the parents seemed rooted to the spot, their mouths agape. The young bunny, however, displayed unexpected courage. She stepped out of the stand, her paws tucked in her jeans, and cautiously approached me.
She was slightly shorter than the father and taller than the mother. She wore a pink plaid shirt and a straw hat that accommodated her ears. Her gray fur, complemented by a lighter shade on her underbelly and muzzle, and her large purple eyes gave her a friendly yet striking appearance. I don't think I've ever seen a sentient being with purple eyes.
We exchanged unspoken for a long moment, her curious eyes meeting my gaze. When a warm smile finally broke across her face, it surprised me.
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"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully, her voice friendly and disarming.
Her words jolted me. A talking bunny – this was beyond anything I'd imagined. I struggled to find my voice, my head dipping slightly in astonishment and shyness.
She stepped even closer, her head barely reaching my knee, and gently touched the armored surface of my leg. "Hey... are you okay?" she inquired, looking up with concern.
When I met her gaze, a wave of reassurance washed over me. With effort, I managed a quiet response accompanied by a hesitant wave. "Uh... hello," I mumbled.
The brief silence between us lingered before she spoke again, her voice laced with concern. "Do you need any help? You look like you're a long way from home."
An understatement, indeed. Home felt like a forgotten concept from another lifetime. My legs trembled subtly under the weight of my exhaustion, yet I stood firm, facing the young bunny with a resolve to communicate.
"Yes... yes, I am," I replied, my voice barely concealing my fatigue.
She glanced up at me, her purple eyes reflecting curiosity and unease, then turned to her parents. They stood a short distance away, their expressions etched with worry. They clearly recognized me as an outsider—a foreign presence in their familiar world.
I could sense their apprehension, expecting them to flee at any moment. Yet, as the bunny's gaze returned to my helmet, I noticed a shift in her demeanor. Her initial unease gave way to a sense of empathy. Realizing I might lose this opportunity for help, I voiced my most immediate need.
