Gesturing his saber tiger to stay still, Mello progressed silently in direction of the ferrous scent. It grew stronger as he approached after a while, quite far from his camp place.
He heard a faint noise. A whimper...
He was still at good distance, only his sharp senses giving him indications as to who it was and where it was. Now running, his disguise unnecessary, he headed for the scent and noise.

The Night Elf stopped cold, a body in sight, lying on the ground, trying to crawl. He made sure there was no one around, and finally closed the distance carefully, not to scare the boy.
The poor villager was a mess. His face was bloody, swollen, purplish bruises appearing all over the uncovered flesh of his body whose clothes had been partly ripped apart, and it's only when Mello tried to readjust him before picking him up that his eyes fell on the horrifying sight of blood along the boy's thighs.
He didn't need much more informations than the bleeding and the pants pulled down to understand what had been done to the redhead.

The boy, feeling someone near him and hands pulling on his clothes, jumped back despite the pain, falling back on the ground immediately, his legs weak, screaming in fear, eyes trying to see his assailant through swollen lids.
Mello reached for something in a little purse hung to his belt, and, as fast as lightning, pounced on the boy and stuffed something in his mouth. The other tried to spit it out but the simple contact of the powder on his tongue was enough to drug him, and he fell on the ground for good, passed out.

The Night Elf didn't want to try to convince the boy that he didn't mean harm, he didn't have time for that, and it would erase the pain for a while too, making the boy easier to transport. He picked him up and went back to his camp place, except that it wasn't safe to stay here if the boy's attackers were still around, although he had a pretty good idea of who it was, and that they were not brave enough to wander here at night.
Not that himself alone couldn't face a bunch of cowards, Elves were stronger than Humans, but he didn't want to be spotted with the villager. It was one thing to help him since he was badly hurt, and another to be associated to a Human.

He secured the redhead on the back of the saber tiger, packed and hopped in the saddle. He stopped on the bank of the river, just after Raven Hill. They would be safe here in the open since no one could approach close enough without leaving the safety of the woods and would appear in full sight, allowing the Night Elf to react soon enough, and there was enough water to clean up the wounds.

It was now fully dark, and by the time Mello lit up a fire, using the wood he had found earlier and that he had packed along the rest, as he didn't know if he'd find some at his next stop, the redhead began to come out of his drug-induced sleep. Mello observed him, sitting on the other side of the fire. He perfectly knew that staying still wouldn't prevent the boy from freaking out: he was hurt, aching, close to a creature of a race that Mello wasn't even sure the villager had seen before, and a huge cat nearby. If the redhead remembered anything of the Elf drugging him, that could even be much worse.

The young man blinked several times, the light of the fire hurting his already beaten eyes, before trying to sit. He rested on his knees, his legs to the side, obviously unable to sit properly due to the pain, and whimpered as he tried to rub his eyelids, apparently forgetting the state they were in.
He took his surroundings in, his sight accustoming to the contrast between the fire place and the darkness of the night around, and suddenly realised he wasn't alone. The fire itself hadn't given it away, he was much too groggy to acknowledge things correctly, but now, his eyes, although puffy, widened as the first thing he saw was the saber tiger.
It didn't help that the gigantic mount yawned at that moment, showing long, pearly canines.

The boy was trembling, but his eyes fell next on the Night Elf, and all resolution he had had to runaway disappeared.
Searching in his shirt, he pulled on a thin leather cord hidden under the garment to reveal a triangle shaped pendant, his eyes not leaving the Elf.
Mello didn't need to come closer to see what it was. The arrow had been cut right above the metal head and before the tail, the redhead removing the shaft to keep only the point and the fletching, piercing the shortened wood pieces to pull a string through them. If the Elf had any doubt that it was his, the fact that he had seen the boy pick it up, and the yellow and blue feathers of the fletching, that were his personal trademark, confirmed it.

The boy didn't say a word though, still staring at Mello. Fear flared up in his eyes though, when the Elf stood up, and Matt followed his every move as Mello prepared a drink with herbs from a little purse and water from the river.
The Elf deposited a small beaker at a short distance from the redhead, not wanting to scare him more than he already was, letting the other come the rest of the way to the steamy liquid.

"Matt. Drink." Mello said since the young man hadn't moved, still weary.
Upon hearing his name, he decided to take the beaker though, but grimaced at the smell.
"Drink. For the pain." Mello added.
Matt began to sip the herbal tea, doing his best not to spill it through his swollen and cut lips, wincing as the temperature burnt his wounds. The taste was sweet though, and he drank it all in minutes, the pain effectively disminishing.
"Thank you." he whispered, staring at the Elf again.
His mind barely had time to finally register that the other knew his name that he fell into a deep sleep, the beaker falling from his hands, rolling in the dust.
Mello stood up again, picked up and washed the small container, and, his back against his tiger, decided to get some rest as well. He wasn't used to prepare medicine for weak Humans, and it seems he had had a heavy hand on the redhead's infusion, so the latter would probably sleep for a long moment.

The sun had barely risen that Mello woke up, feeling cold.
The fire had died down during the night, and his tiger wasn't beside him. No wonder why he found the morning air chilly.
Standing up, he was about to whistle to call the big cat who had probably gone further away from the camp to relieve himself - although it was rare for the animal to move before his master did – when his eyes took in the sight of the white spotted tiger curled in a half ball, the redhead tucked against the fur between the paws of the mount.
Frowning more of surprise than displeasure, Mello picked up some items from his bags and went to the river to wash the ingredients. He'd let the boy sleep, he needed rest anyway, while he prepared something to eat.

While he stirred the soup he had made from herbs, meat from the small animals he had hunted the day before, and a few edible roots remaining in his supplies, he glanced from time to time in direction of the sleeping cat and the boy. The beautiful animal was born from his father's and his mother's own mounts, a rare breed of snow sabers, taller and faster than any other feline mount, and had been given to him as a kitten when he was five years old, the age when Night Elves have their totem ceremony.
It was no surprise when the drood that had totemised his father, and the father of his father before him, gave him the snow saber as a totem. It was one of the strongest totems existing, totally fit for the son of the Supreme Elf in place, son who would succeed him one day and needed to be granted the power of nature through a mighty association of spirits.

He had grown together with the tiger, and as his mother passed away, too early for her time, the animal had been his only companion. His father, although loving, was, just like Elves in general, not demonstrative, and too busy with his duty anyway, since these had been times of war. Mello would barely see his father, who was most of the time away, fighting battles alongside Humans and other races of the Alliance, before himself passed away much too early for an Elf his age.

Being solitary by temper, Mello didn't mingle much with others, and the huge cat had become not only protective of him, but reluctant to let anyone else approach him. Women of the village would often try to pet him, but while he wouldn't harm them, he'd never allow it, withdrawing from hands and putting distance with people, growling.
It was different with strangers, especially from other races, though. The tiger had almost chopped the head off of a Draeneï when Mello had recently visited Exodar to introduce himself to Velen, prophet of the Draeneï. The male had tried to touch the animal's head, amazed by his beauty, on the ship to Azuremyst, and he was alive only because of Mello's sharp senses. The Elf had acknowledged the smallest change in the aura surrounding the beast standing behind him and although he hadn't given much thought to the Draeneï coming their way, since he didn't think he would be stupid enough to try such a bold move – most people on this earth knew that touching an unknown mount or pet was a mistake -, he had stopped the tiger before the irreparable happened, the gigantic paw hanging half an inch from the other's neck.

So now, seeing the saber tiger sleep so peacefully next to a Human, on his own free will even, since he had moved from his master to the redhead during the night by himself, was unsettling for Mello.
He wasn't jealous, just surprised. He knew that it wasn't the animal becoming keen on contact with strangers, it had never been, and would never be the temper of such a feral creature, they were loyal to death to their masters and deadly with the rest. The surprise resided much more in what lied in the young man for the beast to take a liking to him. It made things easier though, Mello wouldn't have to force the boy's presence on his mount, and he wouldn't risk getting him hurt by the tiger. Or maybe it was simply the smell of his master on the pieces of arrow that were hanging to the boy's neck, although Mello doubted it.

The redhead stirred, the mount uncurling to give him more room. He started when he saw the huge white paws around him, his eyes rising to meet the beast's, dreading to be eaten any second. When he saw that the animal was far from being threatening, he slowly brought his hand to his cheek.
Mello held his breath. He knew that the silent vibe he was sending was enough for the saber to stay still, the animal would always obey him, even if displeased, but there was actually no displeasure in the animal's features: he just kept quiet, letting the tip of fingers lightly graze his fur, ever so lightly tilting his head against them, before they fell back in the boy's lap.

Matt smiled. He looked astonished by the animal's presence, but fear was gone. He instinctively looked in direction of the Elf, feeling his gaze on him, his smile vanishing in the process in front of the serious expression of the other.
Shyly, he looked at his hands in his lap, not knowing what to do. Was it wrong to touch the tiger?

Mello filled a bowl with the soup and walked to the redhead, handing it out to him. He had cut the pieces of meat and roots small enough for them to be easy to eat despite the wounds the boy had to his mouth, and the boy swallowed the content of the bowl fast, obviously hungry.
"More?" the Elf asked.
"Yes... please." the other replied, blushing slightly. He felt bad that he was eventually leaning too much on the Elf's kindness toward him. But the soup was good, and he was starving, so he accepted the second serving with a heartfelt thank you.
When he was done, he went to the river to wash his bowl, his legs a bit wobbly still, but he felt much better. He walked to the Elf to give the bowl back, averting his eyes in respect, not wanting to stare. People always told him he stared too much...
Mello took the small container without a word and poured a beige power in it, half filling it.

Matt felt intimidated, standing face to the taller Elf as Mello stood up.
He had seen some when he had wandered on the docks to fish. Debarking from the shuttle between Rut'Theran and Stormwind, tall, lean creatures with pointy ears, most of the time long hair in colours unseen in the Human race, with or without their mounts – none as big as the one now lightly snoring, sprawled on the ground though – and although this one Elf was not as imposing as those he had seen before, he was still taller than him and a lot more muscular as well.
To be honest, he had mistaken him for a female at first, in the fire light, because of his fine traits, long fingers, and the grace of his moves.
But now in daylight, Matt could see that the Elf was very much male, and very much scary. Not scary as in needing to run away from him, the redhead might not have been the smartest boy in the village, he could still fathom that if he was still alive, and moreover taken care of, then he shouldn't fear for his life. Which was miserable anyway, so if he was to die from the hand of the Elf, at least he would have had a good rest and his stomach was full, which was not that bad for a last favour.

It was more akin to being afraid to make a mistake. Matt always made mistakes, got on people's nerves, broke things and overall messed it up a lot. People said it was because he was not right in the head, which was probably true. He always did his best but still, people would end up angry. He never quite knew what he did wrong, he was probably too much of an idiot. That's what everyone that knew him in Stormwind said so it was certainly the truth.
It was only a matter of time before the Elf noticed that he was indeed as stupid as can be and grew tired of helping. Why was he helping anyway?

"I... Thank you for everything." he whispered, his voice unable to come out louder, his stomach tied in a knot, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
"Come with me." the other simply replied.
"How do you know my name?" the redhead dared to ask as the Elf walked ahead of him in direction of the river.
"I heard at the castle." Mello replied. His knowledge of the Human language was not perfect but it was enough to speak with the race. All Elves were taught the Alliance's languages when young.
"Oh."

Mello stopped by a rocky area, added water to the saponaria powder in the bowl, and stirred the mixture with his fingers, before rinsing them in the river.
"To wash you and clothes." he said, handing out the bowl to Matt, who took it, this time looking at the Elf.
His eyes dropped to his feet, his face turning bright red. To his relief, the Elf turned around and went back to the camp.

Hiding behind the rocks, the redhead undressed, and carefully cleaned himself. He had to scrub the blood off his thighs, wincing at the bruises appearing on the skin once the red stains were gone. Thinking back of what had happened to him, tears started to fill his eyes. Why had they done that to him? Did he deserve it? He wasn't sure, but he had probably done something really bad. Well, he knew that liking men was bad, but he hadn't done anything with men for a long time, he had stopped when he had been told it was wrong. He had thought for a moment that if the Prince himself liked men, then maybe things had changed... it was the Prince after all. Matt had really believed that the Prince was kind. Anduin had said so many nice things, he had even given him treats once, but then... the latest events had been terrible, and Matt was mad at himself that he hadn't just stuck with what he had been told before. The Prince had been right to test him, since Matt had failed. He knew it, but still, he fell in the trap. It was wrong to like men, he knew it!
Ah, he deserved that, after all, crying over it was useless, he could only blame himself.

When both his parents had passed away, Matt was fourteen and old enough to be on his own, but being the simple mind that he was, no one wanted to give him work to do since he was way too clumsy and cost more than his work was worth of, and he could sustain himself anyway, he just needed to fish and pick up what nature had to offer, he didn't have much, but he ate almost everyday. But then, a lord that apparently possessed the lands where his parents' house had been built asked for a land tax, and Matt didn't have a single coin to give. He had never touched a real gold, not even a copper or a silver, and the lord wanted 2 of them!

The first four months, the lord paid himself on the boy's body. The older man was not ugly, and Matt thought that he liked him. That's when he realised that he liked men better than women, because he had never quite understood why boys his age were so keen on trying to see the village girls naked when they bathed in the river. That was at least something that made sense to him, among the general cluelessness he had about life.
But when the man grew tired of sexual favours and asked for money again, Matt was at loss. The lord, probably while inebriated at the local tavern, told too much and, the word spreading, men, mostly old enough to be the boy's father – sailors, villagers, farmers, even some nobles - showed up sometimes at the house after that, tossing a coin to the redhead in exchange of the act.
Matt didn't think much of it, those men made him feel good, or at least none of them hurt him and if not a coin, the poorest of them sometimes gave food, clothes, or even just a tale of faraway lands, that the redhead loved to hear.
But the lord, hearing what was happening on his lands, threw Matt out of the house, burnt it, and threatened him of denunciating him to the King if he ever saw the boy on his lands again.
That's when Matt learnt that it was not right to sell sex for money. He didn't know why, but he wouldn't dare to do it again if it was wrong.
He ended up in that hovel at the border of the woods, an abandoned shack with a roof that could barely stop the rain. No one ever came here, he was peaceful there, and resumed fishing and picking up plants and roots for sustenance.

As he grew older, Matt understood from hearing people talk that it was not only bad to sell sex, men that liked men were regarded as an aberration, and since he was often told he was not right in the head, he understood that it was one more thing that was wrong with himself.

But then he encountered Prince Anduin one day, at the market. Matt was trying to sell some fish because he needed to buy supplies that he couldn't make himself of find for free, and as he was packing up, having sold everything, he had bumped into the Prince, that he hadn't seen standing behind his back, courting a young lady at the next stall.
Matt had profusely apologised, but the Prince had demanded reparation, claiming that the fish stench had ruined his expensive clothing. As Anduin was already scheming to punish the redhead, he noticed the boy staring at him in awe. The Prince was good looking enough, and Matt couldn't help but stare at him. He hadn't even realise he was staring anyway.
Anduin somehow got the feeling that he could have some fun with the boy when one of his acolytes told to his ear that Matt was not exactly known for his intelligence, and after a few small pranks that the kind boy excused, not understanding that he was being made fun of by the Prince and his friends, Anduin realised that Matt's behaviour was one of a person attracted to him. That's when he decided to take things up a notch, wanting to confirm what he suspected. He had started to play with the boy's feelings, coercing him into admitting them, and then had wanted to involve his little crowd of admirers in the prank, the day Mello had seen everything from his room's window.

Matt hadn't seen the arrow being shot, but he had found it. It was beautiful, much more elaborated than Human arrows, with beautiful feathers on the fletching, and he had had a weird sensation as he picked it up from the ground. That's why he had kept it, he was sure that the item was magical, and it might even bring him luck.
To be able to carry it with him, he had made a necklace out of it.

Everything went so fast after that: he had run away out of fear, then Prince Anduin had fetched him at night and... He didn't like Matt that way, this the redhead understood, but why did he have to show him that way? And the girl? She didn't seem to be happy about what happened...
Matt really hoped she was fine. Maybe he could try to find her house to see for himself, and bring her some flowers from the forest? His mother liked when his father brought flowers, it always made her smile widely...

Tears of sadness mixed with tears of pain though, when he washed his ankle. The wolf trap had made quite the damage. He had run away once more because guards were suddenly after him, he didn't know why but he was scared that someone had finally told about him liking men. It was wrong, and they would probably hang him for that.
But then the Prince hadn't helped him, hadn't told the truth, and Matt had realised how wrong he was about Anduin. He still had a hard time believing that someone could be that mean, there had to be an explanation, but he was too stupid to know of one, of course...
He was relieved to be freed though, and had gone in the forest to find herbs to treat the wound to his ankle. After that... all he could remember was the pain, the punches and the kicks, and something as hard as wood being shoved up his ass, something way too big and... they had forced it into him again and again despite his cries. The more he cried, the more they laughed. One of them was Deymen's son, he had recognised him, and the others were probably his friends. Prince Anduin's friends.
Oh, how stupid he had been... he should have known better. Yes, he deserved it, but still, it hurt a lot. He wasn't sure if the physical pain was worse than the dull ache of anger against himself building inside of him. He was so mad at himself for being so retarded...

Mello smelled the tears as he was coming closer to the rocks. Frowning, he deposited a blanket on a rock, his eyes locking for a brief instant with the blushing redhead who had quickly immersed himself to the waist in the river.
He then went back to the camp to sort out and start to dry the plants by the fire.
He had initially planned to leave by the first shuttle to Rut'Theran early in the morning, and take care of the plants once he'd had arrived home in Starbreeze, but seeing as he had no idea when he'd leave now, he'd better take care of his small harvest before the plants rotted.

Matt made sure the Elf wasn't there anymore before standing again.
Pulling the sting over his head, he deposited the self made ornament on a rock to avoid wetting it, and continued washing himself up to his hair. He was used to pick up saponaria to clean himself, reducing the fresh root to a pulp, but he had never used it dry in powder form, and he liked the smell very much. There had to be some spearmint into the mix if he trusted his sense of smell. It was cool on his wounds, and after rinsing himself, he felt a lot better, his wounds didn't hurt as much anymore.
He then proceeded to wash his clothes, leaving them to dry in the sun on the rock, wrapping himself in the blanket before joining the Elf again shyly, sitting back close to the fire.