part 2

But in the blink of an eye, everything changed!

Kratos unleashed a deafening, chest-rattling roar, a sound designed to intimidate every living creature within a mile radius.

He slammed his massive fists into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust and shredded green leaves.

I braced myself, curling my broad shoulders inward to create a protective shell over my hands, fully preparing to absorb the brunt of his savage attack.

I closed my eyes, tightening my grip just enough to secure the duckling, but praying I wasn’t squeezing too hard in my panic.

But the attack I was waiting for never came.

Instead, the deafening roar was abruptly cut short, replaced by a bizarre, choking sound, like a giant swallowing a large rock.

I slowly opened one eye, peering through the gap in my thick, hairy arms to see what had stopped the raging beast.

Kratos was frozen mid-stride, his massive arms suspended awkwardly in the air, his fierce expression melting into one of absolute bewilderment.

Because the tiny yellow duckling had not cowered in fear at the earth-shattering noise.

Instead, the brave little bird had scrambled up the slope of my thick thumb, stood at the very peak of my knuckle, and puffed out its tiny chest.

It looked the towering, aggressive silverback dead in the eye, opened its minuscule beak, and let out the loudest, most indignant quack it could muster. 🦆

It wasn’t a scared peep; it was a furious, demanding screech of pure defiance.

Kratos blinked. Then he blinked again, his heavy brows furrowing together in sheer, unadulterated confusion.

He slowly lowered his massive fists to the ground, the aggressive posture entirely vanishing from his mountainous frame.

He leaned his massive head forward, his giant nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, trying to comprehend the sheer audacity of this yellow speck.

The duckling didn’t back down; it snapped its tiny beak directly at Kratos’s nose, missing it by mere inches.

For a terrifying second, I thought Kratos would crush us both in a fit of insulted rage.

But then, the most extraordinary thing happened right before my very eyes.

Kratos, the terrifying brute who terrorized the younger males, let out a soft, high-pitched whimper that sounded completely ridiculous coming from his massive body.

He slowly extended one single, thick finger, moving it with agonizing caution toward my hands.

I tensed up again, ready to pull away, but something in his eyes told me to hold my ground.

His rough, dark fingertip gently stopped just a millimeter away from the duckling’s fuzzy head.

The little bird, fearless and bold, leaned forward and aggressively rubbed its soft cheek against the giant’s rough knuckle.

Kratos let out a long, heavy exhale, the remaining tension leaving his massive shoulders as he slumped into the green grass beside me.

He looked at me, his eyes wide and completely transformed, silently asking for permission to stay.

I slowly uncurled my posture, relaxing my hunched shoulders, and allowed my hands to rest openly on my knees.

There we were, two massive, terrifying predators, sitting cross-legged in the tall grass like a pair of enormous, overgrown children.

We spent the next hour doing absolutely nothing but watching this tiny bird clean its feathers, mesmerized by every single twitch of its beak.

Every time it took a clumsy step over my palm, both of us held our breath, captivated by the pure miracle of its fragile existence.

The warm afternoon sun filtered down through the leaves, casting a golden glow over my dark fur and lighting up the duckling like a tiny, radiant sun.