The Dog-Rabbit Couple

After its evolution, the child had not a single piece of clothing on. Its back was turned to me, revealing a pair of dark yellow buttocks. The skin wasn't fair either, dark, rough, and uneven, like bark that had been exposed to years of wind and rain. It didn't look quite human, and yet, it walked upright on two legs, its form vaguely resembling that of a toddler.

It moved forward slowly, each step awkward and shaky, as though it hadn't quite adjusted to the balance of its new body. It stumbled a few times, teetering dangerously before catching itself. I followed behind it silently, careful not to snap a twig or disturb a leaf underfoot.

The whole scene felt absurd, a fully grown adult, creeping behind what appeared to be a recently transformed rabbit toddler.

And yet, I had no better plan. For three or four days now, maybe longer, time had become hard to measure, I had been wandering through this dense, suffocating forest. I'd long given up hope of finding a way out on my own. Every path I took curved back into itself, and every clearing looked like the last. If this strange creature knew a way out, then I had no choice but to follow it.

After trailing it for nearly two hours, the thick undergrowth suddenly thinned. A narrow dirt path emerged up ahead, winding its way toward the forest's edge. My heart leapt. For the first time in days, a glimmer of hope sparked in my chest. So this was the only way out! No wonder I'd been wandering in endless loops. If I hadn't stumbled upon this creature, I might've died here, starved, maddened, or worse, reduced to some feral shadow lurking between trees.

When the child reached the edge of the forest, it gave a loud, joyful shout. I quickly ducked behind a bush, peeking out between the leaves.

Two figures stood waiting on the path: a man and a woman. Or at least, that was what they appeared to be at first glance. As they came into clearer view, I felt a chill slither down my spine.

The man towered nearly two meters tall, his frame packed with bulging muscles. His dark skin was leathery, his face shadowed by an unkempt beard. When he grinned, I saw crooked yellow teeth, some jutting outward, others retreating into his gums in uneven rows. His eyes were small, dark, and sharp like a wolf's. Everything about him screamed danger.

Beside him stood a tall woman, perhaps 1.8 meters, though her stooped posture made her seem smaller. Her skin was coarse and dull, almost grey. Her tangled hair resembled dried tree roots, and sticking out from her upper lip were two unmistakably rabbit-like front teeth. The resemblance between her and the evolved child was impossible to ignore.

The child squealed, "Papa! Mama!"

I froze.

What did it just say?

Papa? Mama?

I stared in disbelief. That... thing... had parents? Not just parents, but human ones? How was that even possible? Unless

Unless they weren't human either.

The man rushed over and scooped the child up in one arm, his deep laugh echoing like gravel being ground between stones. "We've been waiting for you these past few days... haha... you're safe now."

"Let's go home," the woman added, her voice hoarse and raspy. "It's dangerous to stay out here too long."

Even their voices grated on my nerves. It was like someone was dragging rusted metal across slate. I wanted to cover my ears, to block out the jarring sounds, but I dared not move.

They turned and began walking down the path, the man carrying the child like a precious bundle. I hesitated, then began to follow again, this time from a farther distance.

We walked for what felt like hours. The path twisted and dipped, flanked by massive ancient trees with roots that curled above the ground like sleeping beasts. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves, moss, and decay. Birds cawed overhead, though none that I recognized. Insects buzzed loudly in the underbrush.

Then the man paused. He lifted his head and sniffed the air like a hound. "Mmm... smells good... something smells delicious."

The woman sniffed as well and nodded. "I smell it too... faint, but there."

I tensed. I didn't smell a thing. Was it... me?

The man turned around abruptly, his eyes scanning the woods. My heart stopped. I dove into a bush, holding my breath.

After a moment, the woman muttered,: "You're a dog, you've got the better nose. Let's go. It's almost dark."

Dog? So he wasn't human. And she... she must be a rabbit. That child, they really were its parents. The implications settled in with a cold finality.

This was not the human world. Wherever I was, it wasn't Earth as I knew it.

Peeking out again, I saw them walking farther ahead. I adjusted my backpack, pulled my tattered jacket tighter around me, and continued following.

Eventually, we reached a village, or something close to it. The houses were simple wooden huts, scattered between patches of tall grass. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, and I saw the silhouettes of creatures through half-shuttered windows. But they all shared one thing in common: they looked like distorted echoes of humanity, part-animal, part-human, and wholly unnatural.

The family entered a modest house with two rooms: one for living, one for cooking. I tiptoed to the side of the house, peering through a cracked window.

Inside, they placed the child onto a straw bed. The woman shuffled to the kitchen. My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten all day. I crept toward the back, crouched by the kitchen door, and peeked in.

She reached into a large clay jar, pulling out two live rats and three frogs, their limbs still twitching. Without a second thought, she tossed them into a pot over the fire, no cleaning, no gutting. Just live meat, straight to the boil.

I gagged. A cold chill shot down my spine. My hands trembled. But hunger kept me rooted in place.

The man soon joined her. He reached into the pot, pulled out a steaming rat, and bit off its head. Crunch. Bones snapped. His lips smacked with satisfaction.

A wave of nausea surged up my throat. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but a muffled "Ughhh" escaped.

"Who's there?!" the man roared.

I panicked. Bolting from my spot, I slammed into a haystack outside and buried myself inside it, heart racing.

Footsteps thundered outside. They searched for a while, voices gruff and sharp. But after several minutes, they gave up and returned inside. The door creaked shut and latched.

I lay in the hay, limbs trembling. That scene... the rats, the frogs, the chewing—it was something I could never unsee. These creatures might have human forms, but their instincts, their habits, were still beastly.

So this was the world I'd landed in. A world where animals evolved into grotesque parodies of humans. Where survival depended not on technology or order, but on brute strength and primal instinct.

I hugged my backpack to my chest and curled up tighter, heart pounding.

How had I gotten here?

More importantly, how the hell was I going to get out?