Lend Me Your Hand [1/?]
Title: Lend Me Your Hand [1/?]
Fandom: XMFC
Pairing: Cherik
Summary: A human by the name of Erik manages to escape his slave camp, only to
stumble upon the small home of a gentle faun named Charles, who’s
willing to go to any length to help Erik secure his freedom. [aka: I
don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore]
Erik’s not really sure how long he’s been running for. The ropes around his wrists have chafed off the skin and the wound on his chest throbs with every aching and forced pump of his heart. His body is burning, begging him to stop, to rest, but Erik knows that to stop would mean to die. He’s numb to the winter cold, struggling for air as the terrain becomes uneven - rocks and holes hidden by layers of snow.
It was unheard of for a human slave to break free, not in this world. Humans were the dirt beneath your shoes, weakest of all.
He choked, feeling his right foot catch on a large stone somewhere in the snow. A shout of pain left his throat before Erik could stop it, tumbling to the ground and choking on mouthfuls of icy, frozen water. Slumping, Erik gasped for air and struggled to find the energy to get back on his feet and continue running. He bit at the bindings on his wrists, tugging and spitting out bits of rope. It hurt his teeth, but he wore down enough of it that a painful wrench had the rope splitting, tearing up his skin and causing fresh blood to spill onto the snow.
A rustling in the woods just to his left made Erik freeze, breath stuttering in his chest. He looked up, struggling to control his gasps for air and watch in growing horror as a faun came walking out of the forest. There’s a split second of silence - broken only by the howl of the wind and Erik’s pained breathing - and before the faun suddenly notices Erik, dropping his armful of logs and sticks in shock.
Erik struggled to push himself to his elbows, eyes wild in search for anything to use to his defense. He refused to be captured again - even if it means killing an innocent faun.
There’s a moment where the faun seems to take in Erik’s appearance, before he stepped forward with a nervous flick of his right ear and hooves kicking up snow. Erik pushed himself up further, arms shaking with exertion.
“Please, do not be frightened.” The faun said, his voice even and one hand outstretched in an attempt calm Erik. It seemed to have the opposite effect, and Erik scrambled back with a cry - more breath than voice.
“No!” The faun barked, taking another few steps forward. Erik brought himself to his knees and then his feet - legs buckling under him in an instant and forcing the human back to the ground in a heap.
“Please, you’ll hurt yourself!” Snowy hooves stopped in front of Erik’s face before the faun bent down to wrap gentle hands around his biceps. He struggled, incomprehensible garble coming from his mouth as he tried to pull himself free. The faun dropped him in an instant, stepping back with hands spread wide.
“I’m not going to harm you, my friend.” The faun said evenly, reaching up to unwind his scarf from around his neck. “Here, take this - wrap your chest.”
Feet of red wool fell at Erik’s feet, giving him the perfect opportunity. He snatched at it, holding it and staring at the faun wearily. If he could get enough energy to stand, he’d be able to use the scarf as a noose. Killing one would earn Erik a death sentence, but he was already a dead man for having escaped from his encampment.
The faun watched Erik with such a serene expression that Erik found it increasingly difficult to find the energy needed to wrap that blood red wool around his pale throat and tighten it. Instead, he found himself shakily wrapping the scarf around his chest, tightening the makeshift binding over the gash he’d received from the whip not two hours before.
“Th-thank you.” He rasped, eyes wary.
The faun seemed startled for a minute at Erik’s ability to speak, but smiled soon enough -pleased.
“You’re very welcome. Are you a human?” A slave was unspoken, but Erik nodded regardless. The faun wrung his hands together, looking almost nervous. “Its dreadful, what they do to you.” His voice was quite, but the words struck a chord in Erik. He narrowed his eyes, scooting back from the faun on the snow.
“Are you going to bring me back?” His voice was hoarse, scraped raw from breathing nothing but icy wind for over an hour.
The faun seemed startled, shaking his head. “Goodness, no! I just… My home is just beyond here, I have a warm bed and food on the hearth.” The offer was unspoken, but it blindsided Erik just the same, staring at the faun in disbelief.
He contemplated the situation, concluding that - if this were some kind of hoax just to get Erik back to the camp - he could use things inside of the faun’s home as a weapon. (as long as they didn’t send any centaurs, Erik stood a fighting chance.)
The faun reached out a hand and Erik took it, relying on the creature’s strength more than he’d like in order to stand.
“That’s a good chap. Do you think you could hold some of those logs for me?Just a few to keep the food warm for the evening.” The faun babbled, half dragging Erik towards the forest. Erik nodded, forcing his legs to take one step after another until they reached the discarded pile. He unwrapped the scarf from his chest, ignoring the faun’s curious stare and gathering the logs together before tying the scarf around them and slinging the contraption over his shoulder.
A glance up met the faun’s delighted grin. It confused Erik, and he let that much show through with his stare. The faun went to pull Erik’s free hand over his shoulders.
“That was terribly clever, my friend. I wouldn’t have thought of that.” The faun said, eyes bright. Flustered, Erik looked away as they stumbled their way through the woods. Now that his adrenaline had left him in a rush, Erik’s body was trembling - weak from the constant running.
“My name is Charles, by the way.” The faun said cheerily, one hand gripping Erik’s hip to help balance himself as they reached a small cottage not ten minutes in from the edge of the woods. He released Erik to pull open the door, ushering the human in and boarding up the door behind himself.
Instantly, Erik was hit with the gratifying warmth of the fire. He stumbled, dropping the logs near the door and falling into the large chair just outside of the hearth. The entire cottage smelled strongly of some sort of delicious stew that made Erik’s stomach ache with hunger. He watched as Charles puttered about in getting the logs set up by the fireplace and then turned to Erik with a tiny smile.
“Now then. Are you hungry?”
Erik hesitated, stuck on a lifetime of having food used as a means of taunting, but nodded soon enough. Charles grinned again, shuffling by and grabbing a wooden bowl to ladle some of the stew into it. Erik watched curiously as the faun’s small tail absently flicked to and fro every few seconds. There was a patch of snow clinging to his hindquarters, and Erik knew, if left to melt, it would most likely be unpleasant for the faun to sit on.
Leaning forward, Erik’s fingers brushed over the snow, dusting it off and jerking back whenever Charles released a startled yelp and jumped to the side. His hooves clacked on the wood floor, eyes wide and staring at Erik with the bowl clutched to his chest.
“Snow.” Erik mumbled, gesturing to the melting puddle on the floor. Charles glanced down at it and back up at Erik with a sag of his shoulders, grinning a tiny bit.
“Ah, thanks for that, friend. I’m sorry, you just startled me.” He breathed, suddenly looking much more nervous than he had before. Erik sat back, folding his hands into his lap and staring down at them in the standard form of submission.
“Apologies.” He murmured, hands tightening for a second before going lax. Charles shifted for a moment and then crouched down in front of Erik, gingerly grabbing the human’s hands and moving them to clasp the warm bowl. Erik’s head shot up to stare at Charles, waiting for the blow to come.
“There is nothing to apologize for.” Charles said softly, giving Erik another one of his gentle smiles. Erik’s chest tightened and he stared back down at the bowl, nodding once. It took him a second longer than he would have liked to gather the nerve to grasp the wooden spoon and bring it to his lips, body flushing with unabashed hunger the second that warm stew hit his tastebuds. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing the bowl to his lips and using the spoon to shovel it into his mouth with a grunt, inhaling the food greedily.
Charles seemed delighted with this, because the second that Erik put the bowl down to breathe and let his stomach adjust, he was taking it and filling it up again. This time, however, he hovered the bowl from Erik’s grasp. A pained expression shot over Erik’s face, hands wrenching back the second he’d reached for the food with a dawning look of horror.
Charles seemed to understand, because he tried to placate Erik with another one of his gentle, endearing grins. “Please, eat more slowly this time. You’ll throw up if you keep that pace, my friend.” Charles chided, handing the bowl over.
Erik shakily took it, watching Charles and then bringing the spoon to his mouth again. This time, he savored each bite, letting the flavor roll around his tongue and the warmth of the stew sink into his bones. He tasted bits of meat and vegetation, as well as a blend of spices that had his mouth salivating with delight.
“Its good, isn’t it?” Charles urged, taking a seat on the wooden stool just in front of Erik. Nodding, Erik ladled another bite into his mouth and chewed slowly.
His stomach was hurting for an entirely different reason before he even got halfway through, and Erik set the bowl down on his lap, using the back of his wrist to wipe at his mouth. Charles’ grin widened and he sat back on his stool with palms resting on his knees, fingers digging through the fur in a petting motion.
“We should wrap your wrists, and your chest. Would it be alright for me to touch you? I have some herbs that would help with the healing…”
Erik shifted, staring down at the bowl in his lap and bobbing his head up and down. Charles seemed happy with this, because he was up in a flash and wandering about the cottage, objects clinking as he searched for the proper items. Erik pushed himself out of the chair, walking shakily to place the bowl on the mantle before returning to his seat.
Charles came back soon enough with a handful of fabric, herbs, as well as a mortar and pestle. He gestured to Erik and the human stood, wobbling, and then following the faun to a small table in the corner of the room. Charles took a few minutes to mix all everything together until he had a thick paste worked up, motioning at Erik to show his wrists.
Charles tutted, wincing at the worn and tattered skin. He wet a cloth in a small bucket of water, dabbing at the wounds with one hand while the other held gingerly to Erik’s palm. His hands were warm and kind, thumb stroking the edge of Erik’s index finger as he wiped away the blood and dirt until the wounds were as clean as they could get. He began to apply the paste in quick dabbing motions, eyes flicking up to Erik every so often to gauge his reaction. If he thought anything of Erik’s tolerance for pain, he didn’t say so.
Wrapping each wrist in a few strips of cloth, Charles scooted forward to press a soft hand to Erik’s clavicle to steady the human as he wiped the blood from Erik’s chest. He applied the paste and dressed the wound with clinical indifference, the tufts of hair on each forearm tickling Erik’s skin. After a moment, Charles patted Erik on the shoulder and sat back with a smile.
“You’re looking better already, my friend.” He said, eyes soft. Erik glanced down, pressing a hand to the bandaging and looking up at Charles with an almost-smile.
“Thank you.” He rasped, marveling at the way a rosy flush seemed to creep onto Charles’ face. Charles was quick to look away, however, gathering up his supplies and standing to return them to their homes.
“I’m sure you’re tired. Please, rest.” Charles said, heading for the hearth to scoop himself a bowl of stew. Erik got to his feet, walking unsteadily towards a secondary room that Charles had gestured to and finding a hay bed covered in blankets and goosefeather pillows. Erik lowered himself to the ground warily, exhaustion eating away at his very bones. He could hear the steady clack-clacking of Charles’ hooves as the faun came to hover in the bedroom doorway.
“You may not have much time to sleep. I fear there will be scouts looking for you. I’m going out into the forest to gather more wood and cover your tracks. If you hear the bell ringing outside, please lift the rug in front of the fireplace. There will be a small storage space that you can hide. Sleep well, my friend.” Charles left, and Erik could hear the creak of the door opening as the faun ventured out into the cold winter woods once more.
Erik pressed his head into the pillow beneath him, inhaling the thick scent of Charles that was surprisingly pleasant. He let his fatigue pull him down into sleep with an exhausted sigh.
Erik didn’t know how long he’d slept for, but he was up in a flash whenever a loud chime rang from somewhere outside. Scrambling to his feet, Erik pushed away any trace of sleepiness to run into the main room, reaching instantly for the rug Charles had mentioned and opening the hatch below. He made sure to pull the rug back over as he descended the few steps down, eyes instantly peering through the tiny cracks of the floorboards.
Charles stepped inside of the cottage, hurrying across the room to peer into the bedroom and sighing loudly. “Are you safe, my friend?” He called, sounding out of breath. Erik tapped a knuckle to the floorboard, earning a relieved grin from Charles. Outside, Erik could hear the sound of movement and voices approaching. Trepidation filled his gut, watching Charles try to calm his breath and hide all signs of any life but his own.
A loud rapping came to the door and Charles hesitated a few seconds before approaching and opening it. Erik couldn’t see much from where he was hidden, but the small gaps gave him enough of a view to see a satyr standing in the doorway. A satyr was, essentially, from the same family as the faun - the only difference being that faun were far more mild-mannered than satyr, with smaller bodies designed for foraging instead of hunting.
“Can I help you?” Charles asked the satyr, tail flicking nervously behind him as he stepped out of the cottage. The light from outside was bright in comparison to the dim firelight of the cottage, and Erik had to squint to see the outline of Charles and the satyr. (his large, curling horns identified him as one of the particularly cruel ones that Erik knew he’d received his share of lashings from.)
“A human’s escaped, and we’ve followed his trail here. The footprints stop a quarter mile from here, by the lake. Have you seen anything?” The saytr’s voice is a low growl, his body looming over Charles’.
“I’m afraid I haven’t. I’ve just finished making some stew, so if there was a human near my home, I may not have noticed.”
The satyr brushed past Charles to step into the cottage, walking about to inspect every inch. Erik held his breath, the satyr’s heavy hooves causing the floorboards to creak loudly. There was a pause, and then the satyr was heading for the second room and then returning back outside to where Charles stood. He snarled, leaning in close to Charles and doing something with his hands that earned a yelp from the faun. “So then I’ve wasted my time here? I feel like you should make it up to me.”
“H-hardly!” Charles cried, shoving the satyr back. Erik tensed, recognizing that same tone of voice as one he’d heard from so many humans who’d been the subject of a satyr’s lust.
“Don’t be like that, little faun. You know Shaw owns these lands. I’m sure he’ll understand.” More movement, and another sound from Charles.
“I am not one of Shaw’s subjects. I’ve lived since before he claimed it. D-Don’t do that!” Charles cried, stumbling back from the satyr. There was a loud laugh, and Erik nearly leapt out from under his hiding place when the satyr released a deafening bellow - a sound to inform any potential mate of his intentions. Startled, Charles stumbled back with a bleating yelp, ducking behind one of the trees near the entrance of the cottage.
The faun’s reaction seemed to pull another laugh from the satyr as it stepped up to the tree, advancing in a way that set off every alarm in Erik’s head. He pushed at the door, ready to leap out and at least take the satyr down with him - if nothing else - when a distant voice seemed to draw the attention of both creatures. Erik had to squint his eyes to see the form of a centaur a few hundred feet away. He exhaled sharply - realizing that if he’d tried to save Charles, he’d have gotten them both killed.
The satyr moved away from Charles, sniffing once. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a human to hunt. Next time?”
“You could only hope.” Charles spat, kicking snow after the satyr’s retreating back. He stomped back into the cottage, shutting and barring the door with a large plank of wood before turning around. He looked visibly shaken, and Erik didn’t even wait for Charles’ permission before he was clambering out of the small hideaway and walking towards the faun.
“Are you injured?” He croaked, licking his lips and glancing over Charles’ body. He hadn’t been able to see everything the satyr had been doing, but Charles looked rather unharmed. Erik wasn’t certain, however, because a faun may have certain parts identical to a human’s, but he knew little about their anatomical makeup.
Charles gave Erik a surprised, but pleased look and shook his head. “I’m fine, my friend. Thank you for your concern. That satyr is rather unbearable at times. I do hate when he visits.” With every word that left Charles’ mouth, his fright bled away to annoyance. It wasn’t long before he was brushing past Erik to pace the cottage, arms gesticulating wildly.
“I swear - you know some folk can’t tell the difference between us? Fools, I tell you. Obviously my kind are much more civilized. That - that brute comes to my door asking about runaways all the time, you know? Of course, I’ve never actually run into one before now, but you’d think he’d get the idea after the third time that I don’t actually pay attention to what goes on outside my woods!” Charles paused to take a deep breath, completely oblivious to the tiniest of smiles that was starting to creep onto Erik’s face. Instead, the faun started to stomp his hooves, hands flying up into the air. “And- and he’s a horrible flirt. I don’t mean horrible in the good way, mind you, I mean horrible as in you can smell the hormones leaking off of him - as if its sexy! It isn’t, I tell you. Neither is his habit of getting into my space! And he thinks its okay to flick my tail when it isn’t.”
At this last part, Charles flopped down into his chair with a grievous sigh. “I really hate when he flicks my tail.” The faun moaned, the toes of his hooves tapping together as his expression transformed into a pout.
Erik walked over to the stool, sitting down with a hesitant look to Charles before giving him a hint of an amused grin.
“Is flicking a faun’s tail painful?” He asked, voice still a low rasp. Charles glanced up in surprise, face bursting into a brilliant shade of red. He ducked his head as far down as possible into the green scarf he’d wrapped around his neck sometime earlier when Erik had been asleep.
“Oh no. its uhm. Nothing.” He mumbled, hands moving to twist some of the fur on his thigh. He looked up after a second, cheeks still a blustery pink, and cleared his throat.
“So, the scouts won’t be back here again. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like some more sleep?” He offered. Erik contemplated the idea, and then nodded.
“Water, if you have any….Where will you sleep, come nightfall?” He asked, watching Charles get up and make his way to a pitcher on the table and pouring water into a wooden cup.
“That is a good question. I’d like to say I can trust you enough to share my bed, wouldn’t you? I promise I don’t kick in my sleep.” This last part was said with a teasing smile as Charles handed over the water, watching Erik gulp it down greedily before filling it a second time.
Erik wiped water from his mouth with the heel of his palm, nodding. “I’m grateful enough that you’ve not turned me in, anything you offer is acceptable.” He mumbled. Charles grinned, setting the cup and pitcher back on the table.
“It gets very lonely here, you see. I also hate the way that humans are treated. I’m no one special, I assure you.” Charles bustled by, hands obviously itching for something to do, and Erik reached out to wrap his fingers around one thin wrist.
The faun froze, looking over at Erik with mild surprise. The human tightened his grip, despite the mild tremor in his hands, and stood. He reached for Charles’ other arm, holding both of the faun’s hands in his grasp and locking eyes with him.
“Thank you, Charles. I owe you my life.”
If possible, Charles’ face flushed an even deeper red than it had been only moments before, his pale blue eyes dropping down to stare at their clasped hands. He gave Erik’s fingers a return squeeze before pulling away.
“I’ve no doubt you’d have done the same for me, my friend.” He breathed, “Now, go get some rest. I have a few things to do before the sun sets.” Charles said, hustling Erik back into the secondary room. Erik went without protest, sitting down on the bed as Charles searched in a small closet before procuring another wool blanket.
“I’m sure you’re feeling a chill - I know human’s skin isn’t nearly as tough as a faun’s. Let me know if you need another blanket, I’m sure I’ve got one lying about somewhere. Two should be enough, don’t you think?”
“Erik.”
“Pardon?” Charles seemed confused, head tilted to the side as he unfolded the blanket. Erik glanced up from watching the faun work.
“My name. Its Erik.” Erik’s simple confession looked as if it meant the world to Charles, because his face was lit up brilliantly with delight, right ear flicking.
“It’s a beautiful name.” He said. Erik pursed his lips, taking the blanket from Charles with a tug and earning a small chuckle as a result. Charles stepped back towards the doorway as Erik settled into the bed, his silhouette casting a shadow across the walls.
“Get some rest, Erik.” The door gave a creak as Charles pulled it shut. Erik stared at it, and then to the curtained windows. He pulled his hands out from under the blanket, staring at his wrists blankly.
His entire life, his hands had been tied. Be it from rope, shackles, a keeper’s grasp, chains, or the belt of anyone who paid the right price. Scars littered his arms, tracing all the way up and across his chest, down his torso, from his stomach to his thighs, past his knees and along his toes. Nothing on him was clean, free of pain, nothing on his body belonged solely to himself.
Until now.
He’d been twelve when they’d murdered his father and mother, forcing Erik into a life of labor. They’d branded him on the inside of his left wrist with a menacing, curved ‘H’ that signified his status as a human. Even after nearly twenty years, Erik can still remember the scent of his own flesh sizzling.
He buried his face into his hands, inhaling sharply and willing his memories to go away. Instead, he tuned in to the noises coming from Charles. There was a clanging of a pot and the crackle of wood being added to the fire, followed by the soft hum of a song Erik didn’t recognize as Charles sang quietly - probably unawares that he could be heard.
Erik fell asleep listening to the sounds of Charles singing softly to himself as he moved about the cottage.
To him, there had never been a lullaby sweeter than the sound of freedom making tea in the next room over.
Fandom: XMFC
Pairing: Cherik
Summary: A human by the name of Erik manages to escape his slave camp, only to
stumble upon the small home of a gentle faun named Charles, who’s
willing to go to any length to help Erik secure his freedom. [aka: I
don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore]
Erik’s not really sure how long he’s been running for. The ropes around his wrists have chafed off the skin and the wound on his chest throbs with every aching and forced pump of his heart. His body is burning, begging him to stop, to rest, but Erik knows that to stop would mean to die. He’s numb to the winter cold, struggling for air as the terrain becomes uneven - rocks and holes hidden by layers of snow.
It was unheard of for a human slave to break free, not in this world. Humans were the dirt beneath your shoes, weakest of all.
He choked, feeling his right foot catch on a large stone somewhere in the snow. A shout of pain left his throat before Erik could stop it, tumbling to the ground and choking on mouthfuls of icy, frozen water. Slumping, Erik gasped for air and struggled to find the energy to get back on his feet and continue running. He bit at the bindings on his wrists, tugging and spitting out bits of rope. It hurt his teeth, but he wore down enough of it that a painful wrench had the rope splitting, tearing up his skin and causing fresh blood to spill onto the snow.
A rustling in the woods just to his left made Erik freeze, breath stuttering in his chest. He looked up, struggling to control his gasps for air and watch in growing horror as a faun came walking out of the forest. There’s a split second of silence - broken only by the howl of the wind and Erik’s pained breathing - and before the faun suddenly notices Erik, dropping his armful of logs and sticks in shock.
Erik struggled to push himself to his elbows, eyes wild in search for anything to use to his defense. He refused to be captured again - even if it means killing an innocent faun.
There’s a moment where the faun seems to take in Erik’s appearance, before he stepped forward with a nervous flick of his right ear and hooves kicking up snow. Erik pushed himself up further, arms shaking with exertion.
“Please, do not be frightened.” The faun said, his voice even and one hand outstretched in an attempt calm Erik. It seemed to have the opposite effect, and Erik scrambled back with a cry - more breath than voice.
“No!” The faun barked, taking another few steps forward. Erik brought himself to his knees and then his feet - legs buckling under him in an instant and forcing the human back to the ground in a heap.
“Please, you’ll hurt yourself!” Snowy hooves stopped in front of Erik’s face before the faun bent down to wrap gentle hands around his biceps. He struggled, incomprehensible garble coming from his mouth as he tried to pull himself free. The faun dropped him in an instant, stepping back with hands spread wide.
“I’m not going to harm you, my friend.” The faun said evenly, reaching up to unwind his scarf from around his neck. “Here, take this - wrap your chest.”
Feet of red wool fell at Erik’s feet, giving him the perfect opportunity. He snatched at it, holding it and staring at the faun wearily. If he could get enough energy to stand, he’d be able to use the scarf as a noose. Killing one would earn Erik a death sentence, but he was already a dead man for having escaped from his encampment.
The faun watched Erik with such a serene expression that Erik found it increasingly difficult to find the energy needed to wrap that blood red wool around his pale throat and tighten it. Instead, he found himself shakily wrapping the scarf around his chest, tightening the makeshift binding over the gash he’d received from the whip not two hours before.
“Th-thank you.” He rasped, eyes wary.
The faun seemed startled for a minute at Erik’s ability to speak, but smiled soon enough -pleased.
“You’re very welcome. Are you a human?” A slave was unspoken, but Erik nodded regardless. The faun wrung his hands together, looking almost nervous. “Its dreadful, what they do to you.” His voice was quite, but the words struck a chord in Erik. He narrowed his eyes, scooting back from the faun on the snow.
“Are you going to bring me back?” His voice was hoarse, scraped raw from breathing nothing but icy wind for over an hour.
The faun seemed startled, shaking his head. “Goodness, no! I just… My home is just beyond here, I have a warm bed and food on the hearth.” The offer was unspoken, but it blindsided Erik just the same, staring at the faun in disbelief.
He contemplated the situation, concluding that - if this were some kind of hoax just to get Erik back to the camp - he could use things inside of the faun’s home as a weapon. (as long as they didn’t send any centaurs, Erik stood a fighting chance.)
The faun reached out a hand and Erik took it, relying on the creature’s strength more than he’d like in order to stand.
“That’s a good chap. Do you think you could hold some of those logs for me?Just a few to keep the food warm for the evening.” The faun babbled, half dragging Erik towards the forest. Erik nodded, forcing his legs to take one step after another until they reached the discarded pile. He unwrapped the scarf from his chest, ignoring the faun’s curious stare and gathering the logs together before tying the scarf around them and slinging the contraption over his shoulder.
A glance up met the faun’s delighted grin. It confused Erik, and he let that much show through with his stare. The faun went to pull Erik’s free hand over his shoulders.
“That was terribly clever, my friend. I wouldn’t have thought of that.” The faun said, eyes bright. Flustered, Erik looked away as they stumbled their way through the woods. Now that his adrenaline had left him in a rush, Erik’s body was trembling - weak from the constant running.
“My name is Charles, by the way.” The faun said cheerily, one hand gripping Erik’s hip to help balance himself as they reached a small cottage not ten minutes in from the edge of the woods. He released Erik to pull open the door, ushering the human in and boarding up the door behind himself.
Instantly, Erik was hit with the gratifying warmth of the fire. He stumbled, dropping the logs near the door and falling into the large chair just outside of the hearth. The entire cottage smelled strongly of some sort of delicious stew that made Erik’s stomach ache with hunger. He watched as Charles puttered about in getting the logs set up by the fireplace and then turned to Erik with a tiny smile.
“Now then. Are you hungry?”
Erik hesitated, stuck on a lifetime of having food used as a means of taunting, but nodded soon enough. Charles grinned again, shuffling by and grabbing a wooden bowl to ladle some of the stew into it. Erik watched curiously as the faun’s small tail absently flicked to and fro every few seconds. There was a patch of snow clinging to his hindquarters, and Erik knew, if left to melt, it would most likely be unpleasant for the faun to sit on.
Leaning forward, Erik’s fingers brushed over the snow, dusting it off and jerking back whenever Charles released a startled yelp and jumped to the side. His hooves clacked on the wood floor, eyes wide and staring at Erik with the bowl clutched to his chest.
“Snow.” Erik mumbled, gesturing to the melting puddle on the floor. Charles glanced down at it and back up at Erik with a sag of his shoulders, grinning a tiny bit.
“Ah, thanks for that, friend. I’m sorry, you just startled me.” He breathed, suddenly looking much more nervous than he had before. Erik sat back, folding his hands into his lap and staring down at them in the standard form of submission.
“Apologies.” He murmured, hands tightening for a second before going lax. Charles shifted for a moment and then crouched down in front of Erik, gingerly grabbing the human’s hands and moving them to clasp the warm bowl. Erik’s head shot up to stare at Charles, waiting for the blow to come.
“There is nothing to apologize for.” Charles said softly, giving Erik another one of his gentle smiles. Erik’s chest tightened and he stared back down at the bowl, nodding once. It took him a second longer than he would have liked to gather the nerve to grasp the wooden spoon and bring it to his lips, body flushing with unabashed hunger the second that warm stew hit his tastebuds. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing the bowl to his lips and using the spoon to shovel it into his mouth with a grunt, inhaling the food greedily.
Charles seemed delighted with this, because the second that Erik put the bowl down to breathe and let his stomach adjust, he was taking it and filling it up again. This time, however, he hovered the bowl from Erik’s grasp. A pained expression shot over Erik’s face, hands wrenching back the second he’d reached for the food with a dawning look of horror.
Charles seemed to understand, because he tried to placate Erik with another one of his gentle, endearing grins. “Please, eat more slowly this time. You’ll throw up if you keep that pace, my friend.” Charles chided, handing the bowl over.
Erik shakily took it, watching Charles and then bringing the spoon to his mouth again. This time, he savored each bite, letting the flavor roll around his tongue and the warmth of the stew sink into his bones. He tasted bits of meat and vegetation, as well as a blend of spices that had his mouth salivating with delight.
“Its good, isn’t it?” Charles urged, taking a seat on the wooden stool just in front of Erik. Nodding, Erik ladled another bite into his mouth and chewed slowly.
His stomach was hurting for an entirely different reason before he even got halfway through, and Erik set the bowl down on his lap, using the back of his wrist to wipe at his mouth. Charles’ grin widened and he sat back on his stool with palms resting on his knees, fingers digging through the fur in a petting motion.
“We should wrap your wrists, and your chest. Would it be alright for me to touch you? I have some herbs that would help with the healing…”
Erik shifted, staring down at the bowl in his lap and bobbing his head up and down. Charles seemed happy with this, because he was up in a flash and wandering about the cottage, objects clinking as he searched for the proper items. Erik pushed himself out of the chair, walking shakily to place the bowl on the mantle before returning to his seat.
Charles came back soon enough with a handful of fabric, herbs, as well as a mortar and pestle. He gestured to Erik and the human stood, wobbling, and then following the faun to a small table in the corner of the room. Charles took a few minutes to mix all everything together until he had a thick paste worked up, motioning at Erik to show his wrists.
Charles tutted, wincing at the worn and tattered skin. He wet a cloth in a small bucket of water, dabbing at the wounds with one hand while the other held gingerly to Erik’s palm. His hands were warm and kind, thumb stroking the edge of Erik’s index finger as he wiped away the blood and dirt until the wounds were as clean as they could get. He began to apply the paste in quick dabbing motions, eyes flicking up to Erik every so often to gauge his reaction. If he thought anything of Erik’s tolerance for pain, he didn’t say so.
Wrapping each wrist in a few strips of cloth, Charles scooted forward to press a soft hand to Erik’s clavicle to steady the human as he wiped the blood from Erik’s chest. He applied the paste and dressed the wound with clinical indifference, the tufts of hair on each forearm tickling Erik’s skin. After a moment, Charles patted Erik on the shoulder and sat back with a smile.
“You’re looking better already, my friend.” He said, eyes soft. Erik glanced down, pressing a hand to the bandaging and looking up at Charles with an almost-smile.
“Thank you.” He rasped, marveling at the way a rosy flush seemed to creep onto Charles’ face. Charles was quick to look away, however, gathering up his supplies and standing to return them to their homes.
“I’m sure you’re tired. Please, rest.” Charles said, heading for the hearth to scoop himself a bowl of stew. Erik got to his feet, walking unsteadily towards a secondary room that Charles had gestured to and finding a hay bed covered in blankets and goosefeather pillows. Erik lowered himself to the ground warily, exhaustion eating away at his very bones. He could hear the steady clack-clacking of Charles’ hooves as the faun came to hover in the bedroom doorway.
“You may not have much time to sleep. I fear there will be scouts looking for you. I’m going out into the forest to gather more wood and cover your tracks. If you hear the bell ringing outside, please lift the rug in front of the fireplace. There will be a small storage space that you can hide. Sleep well, my friend.” Charles left, and Erik could hear the creak of the door opening as the faun ventured out into the cold winter woods once more.
Erik pressed his head into the pillow beneath him, inhaling the thick scent of Charles that was surprisingly pleasant. He let his fatigue pull him down into sleep with an exhausted sigh.
Erik didn’t know how long he’d slept for, but he was up in a flash whenever a loud chime rang from somewhere outside. Scrambling to his feet, Erik pushed away any trace of sleepiness to run into the main room, reaching instantly for the rug Charles had mentioned and opening the hatch below. He made sure to pull the rug back over as he descended the few steps down, eyes instantly peering through the tiny cracks of the floorboards.
Charles stepped inside of the cottage, hurrying across the room to peer into the bedroom and sighing loudly. “Are you safe, my friend?” He called, sounding out of breath. Erik tapped a knuckle to the floorboard, earning a relieved grin from Charles. Outside, Erik could hear the sound of movement and voices approaching. Trepidation filled his gut, watching Charles try to calm his breath and hide all signs of any life but his own.
A loud rapping came to the door and Charles hesitated a few seconds before approaching and opening it. Erik couldn’t see much from where he was hidden, but the small gaps gave him enough of a view to see a satyr standing in the doorway. A satyr was, essentially, from the same family as the faun - the only difference being that faun were far more mild-mannered than satyr, with smaller bodies designed for foraging instead of hunting.
“Can I help you?” Charles asked the satyr, tail flicking nervously behind him as he stepped out of the cottage. The light from outside was bright in comparison to the dim firelight of the cottage, and Erik had to squint to see the outline of Charles and the satyr. (his large, curling horns identified him as one of the particularly cruel ones that Erik knew he’d received his share of lashings from.)
“A human’s escaped, and we’ve followed his trail here. The footprints stop a quarter mile from here, by the lake. Have you seen anything?” The saytr’s voice is a low growl, his body looming over Charles’.
“I’m afraid I haven’t. I’ve just finished making some stew, so if there was a human near my home, I may not have noticed.”
The satyr brushed past Charles to step into the cottage, walking about to inspect every inch. Erik held his breath, the satyr’s heavy hooves causing the floorboards to creak loudly. There was a pause, and then the satyr was heading for the second room and then returning back outside to where Charles stood. He snarled, leaning in close to Charles and doing something with his hands that earned a yelp from the faun. “So then I’ve wasted my time here? I feel like you should make it up to me.”
“H-hardly!” Charles cried, shoving the satyr back. Erik tensed, recognizing that same tone of voice as one he’d heard from so many humans who’d been the subject of a satyr’s lust.
“Don’t be like that, little faun. You know Shaw owns these lands. I’m sure he’ll understand.” More movement, and another sound from Charles.
“I am not one of Shaw’s subjects. I’ve lived since before he claimed it. D-Don’t do that!” Charles cried, stumbling back from the satyr. There was a loud laugh, and Erik nearly leapt out from under his hiding place when the satyr released a deafening bellow - a sound to inform any potential mate of his intentions. Startled, Charles stumbled back with a bleating yelp, ducking behind one of the trees near the entrance of the cottage.
The faun’s reaction seemed to pull another laugh from the satyr as it stepped up to the tree, advancing in a way that set off every alarm in Erik’s head. He pushed at the door, ready to leap out and at least take the satyr down with him - if nothing else - when a distant voice seemed to draw the attention of both creatures. Erik had to squint his eyes to see the form of a centaur a few hundred feet away. He exhaled sharply - realizing that if he’d tried to save Charles, he’d have gotten them both killed.
The satyr moved away from Charles, sniffing once. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a human to hunt. Next time?”
“You could only hope.” Charles spat, kicking snow after the satyr’s retreating back. He stomped back into the cottage, shutting and barring the door with a large plank of wood before turning around. He looked visibly shaken, and Erik didn’t even wait for Charles’ permission before he was clambering out of the small hideaway and walking towards the faun.
“Are you injured?” He croaked, licking his lips and glancing over Charles’ body. He hadn’t been able to see everything the satyr had been doing, but Charles looked rather unharmed. Erik wasn’t certain, however, because a faun may have certain parts identical to a human’s, but he knew little about their anatomical makeup.
Charles gave Erik a surprised, but pleased look and shook his head. “I’m fine, my friend. Thank you for your concern. That satyr is rather unbearable at times. I do hate when he visits.” With every word that left Charles’ mouth, his fright bled away to annoyance. It wasn’t long before he was brushing past Erik to pace the cottage, arms gesticulating wildly.
“I swear - you know some folk can’t tell the difference between us? Fools, I tell you. Obviously my kind are much more civilized. That - that brute comes to my door asking about runaways all the time, you know? Of course, I’ve never actually run into one before now, but you’d think he’d get the idea after the third time that I don’t actually pay attention to what goes on outside my woods!” Charles paused to take a deep breath, completely oblivious to the tiniest of smiles that was starting to creep onto Erik’s face. Instead, the faun started to stomp his hooves, hands flying up into the air. “And- and he’s a horrible flirt. I don’t mean horrible in the good way, mind you, I mean horrible as in you can smell the hormones leaking off of him - as if its sexy! It isn’t, I tell you. Neither is his habit of getting into my space! And he thinks its okay to flick my tail when it isn’t.”
At this last part, Charles flopped down into his chair with a grievous sigh. “I really hate when he flicks my tail.” The faun moaned, the toes of his hooves tapping together as his expression transformed into a pout.
Erik walked over to the stool, sitting down with a hesitant look to Charles before giving him a hint of an amused grin.
“Is flicking a faun’s tail painful?” He asked, voice still a low rasp. Charles glanced up in surprise, face bursting into a brilliant shade of red. He ducked his head as far down as possible into the green scarf he’d wrapped around his neck sometime earlier when Erik had been asleep.
“Oh no. its uhm. Nothing.” He mumbled, hands moving to twist some of the fur on his thigh. He looked up after a second, cheeks still a blustery pink, and cleared his throat.
“So, the scouts won’t be back here again. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like some more sleep?” He offered. Erik contemplated the idea, and then nodded.
“Water, if you have any….Where will you sleep, come nightfall?” He asked, watching Charles get up and make his way to a pitcher on the table and pouring water into a wooden cup.
“That is a good question. I’d like to say I can trust you enough to share my bed, wouldn’t you? I promise I don’t kick in my sleep.” This last part was said with a teasing smile as Charles handed over the water, watching Erik gulp it down greedily before filling it a second time.
Erik wiped water from his mouth with the heel of his palm, nodding. “I’m grateful enough that you’ve not turned me in, anything you offer is acceptable.” He mumbled. Charles grinned, setting the cup and pitcher back on the table.
“It gets very lonely here, you see. I also hate the way that humans are treated. I’m no one special, I assure you.” Charles bustled by, hands obviously itching for something to do, and Erik reached out to wrap his fingers around one thin wrist.
The faun froze, looking over at Erik with mild surprise. The human tightened his grip, despite the mild tremor in his hands, and stood. He reached for Charles’ other arm, holding both of the faun’s hands in his grasp and locking eyes with him.
“Thank you, Charles. I owe you my life.”
If possible, Charles’ face flushed an even deeper red than it had been only moments before, his pale blue eyes dropping down to stare at their clasped hands. He gave Erik’s fingers a return squeeze before pulling away.
“I’ve no doubt you’d have done the same for me, my friend.” He breathed, “Now, go get some rest. I have a few things to do before the sun sets.” Charles said, hustling Erik back into the secondary room. Erik went without protest, sitting down on the bed as Charles searched in a small closet before procuring another wool blanket.
“I’m sure you’re feeling a chill - I know human’s skin isn’t nearly as tough as a faun’s. Let me know if you need another blanket, I’m sure I’ve got one lying about somewhere. Two should be enough, don’t you think?”
“Erik.”
“Pardon?” Charles seemed confused, head tilted to the side as he unfolded the blanket. Erik glanced up from watching the faun work.
“My name. Its Erik.” Erik’s simple confession looked as if it meant the world to Charles, because his face was lit up brilliantly with delight, right ear flicking.
“It’s a beautiful name.” He said. Erik pursed his lips, taking the blanket from Charles with a tug and earning a small chuckle as a result. Charles stepped back towards the doorway as Erik settled into the bed, his silhouette casting a shadow across the walls.
“Get some rest, Erik.” The door gave a creak as Charles pulled it shut. Erik stared at it, and then to the curtained windows. He pulled his hands out from under the blanket, staring at his wrists blankly.
His entire life, his hands had been tied. Be it from rope, shackles, a keeper’s grasp, chains, or the belt of anyone who paid the right price. Scars littered his arms, tracing all the way up and across his chest, down his torso, from his stomach to his thighs, past his knees and along his toes. Nothing on him was clean, free of pain, nothing on his body belonged solely to himself.
Until now.
He’d been twelve when they’d murdered his father and mother, forcing Erik into a life of labor. They’d branded him on the inside of his left wrist with a menacing, curved ‘H’ that signified his status as a human. Even after nearly twenty years, Erik can still remember the scent of his own flesh sizzling.
He buried his face into his hands, inhaling sharply and willing his memories to go away. Instead, he tuned in to the noises coming from Charles. There was a clanging of a pot and the crackle of wood being added to the fire, followed by the soft hum of a song Erik didn’t recognize as Charles sang quietly - probably unawares that he could be heard.
Erik fell asleep listening to the sounds of Charles singing softly to himself as he moved about the cottage.
To him, there had never been a lullaby sweeter than the sound of freedom making tea in the next room over.