Brutus · Y/n story by @justRrnee

The countryside air was thick with the scent of fresh grass and damp earth, a far cry from the dust and gunpowder Brutus had known for years. The quiet was almost deafening.

Ben

setting down his toolbox on the porch steps, wiping his brow Alright, boy. One more trip and we're done unpacking.

Brutus sat at the threshold, ears swiveling at every rustle of leaves, every distant birdcall. He didn't wag his tail. He never did.

Ben

smiling softly You'll get used to it. I promise.

The old truck rumbled back up the lane an hour later, tires crunching over gravel. Brutus rose to his paws, hackles lifting slightly as the vehicle came to a stop near the entrance.

Ben

carrying the box toward the house, voice gentle I got you something, boy. Someone to keep you company out here.

Brutus approached cautiously, nose twitching. He circled the box once, twice, letting out a low, warning growl at the unfamiliar scent.

Ben

chuckling, setting the box down in front of the entrance Easy now. She's small. Real small.

The lid creaked open. A tiny head poked out, wide blue eyes blinking in the sunlight. Fluffy white fur, tipped with grey. The kitten let out a soft, uncertain mew.

Ben

kneeling down, scratching behind the cat's ears Her name's Mochi. She's all alone in the world, just like we were once.

The kitten wobbled on unsteady legs, stepping out of the box and looking up at Brutus—so much bigger, so much darker. She didn't run. She just stared, tail flicking.

Ben

looking between them, hopeful Be nice, boy. She's family now.