Clint sat still for a moment, his tiny chest still rising and falling from the sudden panic, but now he was slowly calming down, his ears twitching slightly as he looked around the strange room once more.
The soft light, the strange tools on the tables, and the heavy silence in the air. He tilted his head a little and narrowed his eyes. He didn't hear any voices outside, no footsteps, just the faint humming sound of the glowing orbs above.
He frowned. Then he kept quiet, thinking for a second, his ears drooping a bit. "…Maybe that Duke guy took me," he muttered under his breath, blinking slowly.
"He didn't kill me… even after I bit him." He scratched the side of his head with one foot, confused. "Why would he even bring me here?" he mumbled. "What, does he collect weird bunnies or something?" He huffed and looked down at his furry paws.
"Tch. This is messed up. I gotta find a way to change back or at least escape before they figure out I'm not just some dumb forest animal."
Clint's ears twitched. He froze. He could hear it now, footsteps. Slow, steady, and growing louder, the sound of boots tapping lightly against the stone floor just beyond the door.
He looked around the room again, eyes darting from the bed to the shelves, to the desk in the corner, searching for any place to hide.
"Crap, crap, crap—someone's coming," he whispered to himself, then quickly jumped off the bed, trying to walk on all fours like he had legs.
But his front paws moved too fast, his back legs too slow, and he instantly stumbled forward, landing on his face with a soft thud.
"Urgh—right, bunny," he groaned. "Bunnies hop… not walk." He pushed himself up and tried again, this time forcing his back legs to push off the floor.
The motion was awkward and unbalanced, like his whole body was fighting itself. He bounced once, almost too high, then panicked and landed sideways, rolling into a scroll basket near the desk.
"Damn it, I can't control this stupid body," he muttered, his ears flopping into his face as he struggled to get up again.
He heard the footsteps getting closer. Clint took a deep breath, ears twitching again. "Okay… hop or die. Let's go."
Clint took a deep breath and gathered all the strength in his tiny body, pushing his back legs down and launching himself into the air with a strong hop, higher than he expected, and for a moment everything felt like slow motion.
His eyes widened as the room tilted below him, and he felt the weightlessness of flight then the fear of landing hit him all at once. "Too high, too high!" he panicked, bracing for the crash.
But just before he could hit the floor, something caught him mid-air. Strong hands. "Wha—?!" he squeaked, looking up fast.
And there he was. The Duke. Calm, quiet, and somehow already standing there, holding him securely.
Clint's heart dropped. "You gotta be kidding me!" he muttered with a frustrated squeak.
The Duke raised one eyebrow slightly, "You sure jump high for a small bunny." Clint gritted his little teeth, kicking his back legs weakly, but the man didn't seem bothered.
Instead, Clint saw the Duke's other hand lift, fingers reaching toward him again, and his small bunny heart pounded harder. "No, no, not again—he's gonna squeeze me!" Clint muttered and quickly shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for pain. But… it didn't come.
The hand stopped mid-air, hovering for a moment. Then, slowly, the Duke exhaled and fell onto the bed beside them, letting his body rest sideways across the mattress with a tired sigh, as if he had finally let go of something heavy.
Clint blinked in confusion.
The Duke shifted slightly, adjusting his hold and to bring Clint gently toward his chest pressing the soft black bunny against his chest like a pillow, and let his head sink into the sheets.
Clint's nose was squished slightly into the fabric of the Duke's coat. "...What is even happening right now?" he muttered, eyes wide.
Clint lay frozen against the Duke's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, hoping, just hoping, that maybe the man had already fallen asleep.
His small body was trapped between the folds of that dark coat and the man's arm, and though it wasn't tight, it was still enough to make it hard to slip away.
Carefully, slowly, Clint started to wiggle his back legs, inching toward the edge of the bed, holding his breath and moving only a little at a time, his ears twitching at every tiny sound.
His body slid a bit, and hope flickered in his chest just a little more and he could hop off the bed, maybe even find the door, maybe even get out.
But then, in one smooth motion, the Duke's hand moved again and grabbed him not roughly, but firmly and without opening his eyes, he pulled Clint up and placed him right near his face, his breath warm against Clint's fur.
"You can keep trying to escape," the Duke said, voice low like a whisper yet heavy like a sword, "but creatures that run from me… usually don't get far."
Clint's heart skipped. The way he said it quiet, soft, like it was just a passing thought but deadly, as if it was the truth of the world, like gravity or fire. The Duke didn't look angry.
He didn't even open his eyes. He simply rested, one hand still lightly holding Clint near his face, as if he knew the bunny couldn't do anything now.
Clint gulped, his body tense, not even daring to move as the words echoed in his mind. There was no escape.
Clint sat there in defeat, ears drooping as he sighed hard, his tiny bunny body giving up for now. "Damn it… I'm intimidated…" puffing out his cheeks as he looked away.
He couldn't move, couldn't hop far, and the guy was seriously scary in a quiet, don't-make-him-angry kind of way. The Duke, still resting sideways, slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the little black bunny sitting there in front of him with its arms crossed well, sort of and pouting like a sulking child.
His cold eyes watched Clint for a moment before he finally asked in a quiet tone, "What were you doing in that forest?"