How Trust is Earned: A Thank You Drabble
(This drabble is for @piethecreator for purchasing the Cherry amputee from otomecrazy. Thank you so much!)
Warning: Non-graphic bitty injury
Taking out the trash never used to be a chore you looked forward to, but things changed one night when a scrabbling noise interrupted you midway through cramming an overstuffed bag into the container. You glanced around, worried that an unfriendly skunk might be lurking nearby waiting to blast you with stink.
You hear the scrabble again, close to the ground, and a piece of escaped trash moves slightly. You lean in to investigate since the scrabbler is clearly far too small to be a skunk, and a small bitty darts out from under the trash and runs away. You watch the little bitty crouch in the shadow of some bushes, watching you suspiciously.
The tiny skeleton is dirty and clearly frightened. He must be scavenging trash for food, so you doubt he has an owner. You reach out a hand to him.
“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I won’t hurt you.” The bitty takes one look at your hand with his round red eyelights and scurries deeper into the bushes.
It breaks your heart to think of the bitty eating literal garbage, so you start taking food outside in the evenings. At first, you don’t even see the bitty, and though your food offerings disappear each night from where you place them under the bush, you can’t be sure that they weren’t simply eaten by the local wildlife.
You finally catch a glimpse of the bitty again, peering out at you from behind a low-hanging leaf. You set down the food you brought for him- a little square of cheese pizza- and back away. Keeping a wary eyelight on you, he zips out from his leafy shelter, grabs the snack, and quickly vanishes again.
The sighting is all of the encouragement that you need. You continue to place food out for the stray bitty, but now you wait until you see him take it to leave. He gets more daring as time passes and you make no move to grab or hurt him. You eventually start talking to him, which startles him at first, but he soon grows used to your voice.
For the short-term, you’re satisfied with the progress you’ve made, but you worry that the bitty won’t have adequate shelter when the cold weather sets in. You hope that you can convince him to come live with you before that happens, but you don’t want to push him since he is still extremely nervous around you.
Little by little, he allows you to come closer. You decide that today will be the day that you hold your hand out to him again. You’ve actually been practicing the motion to make sure that it is smooth and unhurried. You don’t want to scare the bitty away, after all. You’ll offer your hand at a respectful distance and invite him to approach you.
It’s a good plan, a great plan even, but like so many great plans, it is almost immediately derailed by unforeseen circumstances.
The second you step outside you hear a shriek of pain and terror. The sound is coming from an all-too-familiar bush, a bush that is shaking furiously as a large dog tries to infiltrate it. You charge at the dog, so concerned about your bitty friend that for a moment you forget to be afraid of the dog. The dog jumps when you yell at it, dropping something that it held between its alarmingly sharp teeth… the bitty!
Sobbing, you kneel down in the grass to inspect the damage. He’s alive; his wails of agony are proof of that. His bones though… his poor little bones are badly damaged. You don’t know what to do. You don’t want to hurt him worse and break his trust by picking him up, but he needs medical attention now. With a litany of whispered apologies, you make a pouch from the bottom of your shirt and scoop him into it. It’s the best you can do to avoid grabbing him outright.
Running like you’ve got the Olympic gold in your sights, you burst through the doors of the closest bitty center, calling for help. A bitty vet rushes to your side, guiding the precious cargo you carry to an examination table. The bitty vet frowns.
“I don’t think we can save his limbs,” she says sadly, “but your quick action has saved his life.”
She reaches for the bitty, but he squeals in fright and tries hopelessly to move away. You touch him then, for the very first time. You just rub your finger lightly along his skull. His terror ebbs. He relaxes into your touch.
As the bitty vet gets to work administering medicine and preparing for surgery, you murmur softly to the bitty. “It’s ok. I’ll take care of you.”
His only response is to snuggle harder against your hand.