Mixed Feelings Ch. 01

A gift story!  Part 1 of 2.  Something a little bit different here.

Shadows played across Raven's face, rippling over his unlined skin. His long elven ears were pinned against the sides of his head where they trembled occasionally.

The woods spoke to him, a whispered song that told of the dead leaves and twigs before him - to watch his step. A breeze caressed him and altered its path, taking his scent away from the path ahead.  Light touches prickled his skin in his heightened state, showing the direction of the small animals around him - animals that became scarce as he moved silently through the underbrush.

A touch of cold air, a thin string of it, mixed with the taste of stone to hint of the mountains beyond the forest.  An old Dwarven stronghold, if he remembered correctly.  Abandoned centuries ago when the mines ran dry.  Old and gray and dead, unlike the greenery surrounding him.

His quarry lay ahead.  As an elf, he was favored by the forest and nature in general and this alone allowed him to join a party tackling the neighboring city's request: to drive off or defeat the wyrm that had taken residence nearby.

The task was daunting and fear gripped him but he needed the funds.  Worse, he didn't fully trust his new party members.  They were distant and they clustered together, excluding him in the evenings or in most gatherings.  However, he had no choice; they were the only ones to take him after a month of lingering around the guild.

Sharper, needle-like bites touched his back where they followed him.  That alone should be a warning, but he forced himself forward.  The wind altered its substance subtly, warning him of a drop-off ahead by the way it twisted and spiraled around him, describing the shape of his path.

He swallowed hard and his ears twitched.  The cliff wasn't the only warning - the dusty, dusky scent of a scaled beast mixed with the putrid scent of an old kill and blood baked by the sun.

Raven held up his hand before opening his fist to point one finger forward.  His ears lifted briefly against the short hairs on the side of his head, touching the longer black hairs - the color of which, along with his eyes, gave him his name - on top briefly before lowering once more.

Slowing, he held his bow down against his side with an arrow knocked and ready.

The trees cleared and he blinked his eyes against the sudden brightness.

Caution be aware be warned, the wind sighed and he agreed as he looked over the edge.  The wyrm was below, hidden behind a boulder as it napped in the warm sun.

"I think-" he whispered while turning.  His eyes raised to the face towering uncomfortably close behind him.

"Sorry," Mikel said but there was no apology in his expression as he placed his palm against Raven's chest and pushed him off the cliff.

Ah, the elf realized as time slowed.  The party gathered around the edge to watch without a shred of sympathy or concern on their faces.  I'm the bait.  I should've known.  At least the party leader had the courage to do it himself.

The wind screamed around Raven, terrified for his safety.  It buffeted him, slowing him as much as it could while shifting the small body away from the rock wall.  Pushing.  Pushing.  Howling with rage and anger as it aimed the elf towards a prickly green bush to-

---

Screams echoed from rough stones and the nearby cliff wall.

Raven woke with a sharp gasp.  He was dazed and a strobing pain shot through his skull while nausea swirled within his stomach in sickening loops.  Blood trickled into the sand beneath him from the wounds caused by the bush.  He swallowed and turned his head with a groan to look away from the sun.

Silence blanketed the valley for a brief, glorious moment until the harsh, discordant sounds of screeching metal filled the air, followed by the wet sounds of an animal feasting on a fresh kill.

He knew his blood would draw it to him.  He knew he had to move, but his body refused to listen.  A sudden thought struck him and invisible needles pricked his skin.  The elf closed his eyes, focusing on every inch of his body in turn until he could move his arms.  Further down, further until he could feel his toes wiggling in his boots.  His exhaled breath was ragged but grateful.

Only when he allowed himself to relax did the absurdity of his actions present itself to his rattled brain - he was dead either way, whether paralyzed or not.  As soon as the wyrm finished with his former party, it would look for him.

Eyes closed once more, he moved his right arm and winced when he bent his elbow.

Progress.

At least I can be sitting up when I die, he told himself.  And perhaps I can reach for my dagger before it happens, if for nothing else than to be holding it when my life ends.

His brethren back in the Forest wouldn't understand the thought.  In their philosophy, a life would end to feed another.  It was natural.

Raven's lips curled in disgust at the thought of the word.  Natural.

He'd fought for what he'd wanted his entire life and he'd be damned if he lay here and waited for the end.

The pain dulled his senses and so it came as a shock when he heard a voice speaking nearby.

"Hrrm.  You're still alive, I see," the deep voice proclaimed.

It wasn't human.  At first, he assumed it was masculine, but there was a strange mixture of a higher pitched feminine voice mixed in with an almost imperceptible delay.  Raven inhaled but its scent was faint - fur and leather with a sour undercurrent.

"So- so far," the elf croaked out before swallowing.  His tongue clicked against the roof of his dry mouth.  "Not for long, I think."

"I've been watching your group," it told him.  "Stalking from a distance to see what you intended.  I had hopes that you would kill the wyrm until I watched them push you.  It was brave of you not to scream."

Raven tried to turn his head to look at the speaker but the slight movement made his stomach churn.

"It wasn't bravery," Raven replied, correcting the creature.  "I just forgot.  There wasn't a lot of time for it, you see.  Or else, I might've cursed my former teammates.  At least, now, having had the time to think about it, I can think of several biting curses that fit.  It's likely, in the moment, that I would've faltered.  I expect 'Damn your stupid traitorous faces' doesn't quite have the same weight as 'May the wyrm devour you and your families until your family tree is withered and diseased.'"

The elf wiggled slightly in the clawing embrace of the bush.

"And, anyway, perhaps their families are generous, kind people," he finished.

The beast guffawed at the elf's comment and Raven allowed himself a pained smile at the accomplishment.

The sounds of crunching and slurping had finished and were now replaced by the susurration of scales against sand.

"I have- a dagger in a sheath at my back," the elf said.  "Could you perhaps unsheathe it and set it into my hand?  My right hand. Just nestled inside my fingers.  I may be able to clench it."

"Oh, I must know why," it said.

"Well," Raven replied.  "I feel I must repay you for the kindness of attending me in my last moments.  The least I could do is pick the bones of my former comrades from between the wyrm's teeth as I'm eaten while you make your escape.  A courtesy to you both for services rendered."

"You are a gem," the voice said, laughing as it spoke.  "I think I will keep you.  The world would suffer for the loss of your charm and wit, let alone the pleasing features hiding beneath the blood and mud lining your face."

"I-" the elf winced as he inhaled too deeply.  "I have been told I'm quite handsome by some.  When I'm not on the verge of dying.  Although, truth be told, there haven't been too many times I've found myself in this situation."

Despite the levity, his jaw muscles clenched.  Handsome.

"No?" the voice asked.  It was moving. Shifting with a strange rustling sound.

"No," Raven replied.  "Just the one."

The rasping, furnace-like breathing of the wyrm was closer.

"Hah!" the voice said, louder now as it drew near.

An enormous shadow crossed the elf's face, shielding him briefly from the baleful eye of the overhead sun.

"Oh," Raven said when he spied the black leathery wings tipped by dark claws.

A face followed, elf-like but bearded with wild, orange fur and mixed with the features of a lion.  Only much larger than a lion as it easily walked over him.  The dense fur lining its lean stomach waved above Raven's face and he stared in awe at the sight of it - until a thick sheath appeared.  It was pendulous, easily longer than Raven's extended hand and as thick as his wrist.

And he wondered why he was still staring at it as the manticore continued to step forward.

Except, he found himself leaning up, ever so slightly, while inhaling.  There was a peculiar musk around it that caused a warmth to blossom within and spread, up to his cheeks until they burned brightly.  It took no small effort for him to lay down and turn his head away.  Even then, the encounter filled his mind, despite his closed eyes.

He knew what the appendage was, of course, but he'd never before seen one.  The woods were filled with rutting beasts but there was a marked difference in the display of an intelligent creature's-

Why am I still thinking about this? he hissed in his own mind.

Wind rippled over the manticore's wings, causing them to flutter loudly, like a flag on a fortress wall.  Four powerful legs padded languidly to the sides of the elf's body.  Finally, the creature's tail followed, bright red segments that moved like a Dwarven smith's mechanical wonder and it was tipped by a curved, ebony stinger, as if dipped in the darkness of the void itself.

The beast was far larger than a regular lion, or at least the one Raven had spied caged in a caravan as he'd made his way through the nearby city.  When the manticore passed him, he found he could spare the strength to sit up and he watched its muscles shift beneath the fur.  Its mane billowed as a dust devil appeared, dancing and bending and twirling between the stones.

Raven dropped back with wide eyes when the beast roared.  He wasn't prepared for it.  After their conversation, his brain had placed the creature into a box labeled 'civilized.'  Only now, a figure was desperately painting over the label with tar before writing 'incredibly dangerous and likely to eat you' beneath the blacked-out word.

A sharp hiss followed the roar.  Raven pushed himself up as best he could, groaning through the pain but wanting to see what would become of him.

The manticore was crouched with its rear raised and its armored tail curved above its back, waving slightly back and forth.  Its front paws were spread and ready.  Calculating.

In return, the wyrm simply struck, lashing out with its long neck.  Its head was a blur of ebony scales and bloodied teeth, but the manticore snapped its wings while leaping to the side, just enough to evade the attack before turning to sink its own fangs into the wyrm's neck.  Hardened, armor-like scales that could deflect common swords did nothing to prevent the manticore's ivory fangs from sinking deep.  It bit high, close to the wyrm's jaw to prevent it from bending to retaliate.

The wyrm beat its wings, slamming them to the sand while hopping.  When it tried to roll, the manticore snapped his head and anchored itself, countering the movement.  The wyrm screeched and struggled but the manticore snarled while clawing, ripping scales from the skin beneath.

Suddenly, the four legged beast released its hold to jump back, propelled by its wings.  It crouched, wary once more as it watched the wyrm.

A weak, pitiful, gurgling cry escaped the giant lizard's throat.  It flattened itself for a moment before turning and limping away, leaving a trail of green blood behind.

The manticore sat back and began to groom itself. Raven cocked his head while lowering one delicate eyebrow and raising the other with a look of incredulity at the sudden shift.  The creature was fastidious, licking its paw with its tongue before wiping its face to clear the blood from the wyrm.  Several minutes passed before it decided it was clean.

"Hrrm," the manticore grunted, as if that settled the entire affair.  It stood and turned, lashing its tail before allowing it to settle in a rolled-up curve.

Majestic.

The single word rose within Raven's mind as he watched the creature approach.  He sat transfixed by the manticore's verdant green eyes, clear and deep even at this distance.  Its mouth was settled in a faint, resting frown and it regarded him with a serious expression that did little to broadcast its intentions.

"You- you didn't kill it?" Raven asked.  His throat was dry and his stomach was tied in knots, neither of which was entirely due to his fall.  A faint red blush touched his cheeks as he spied the manticore's sheath beneath its belly, swaying from the thin line connecting to its belly.

"I dislike killing," it told him.

"Hooray," Raven said weakly.

The manticore's lips raised in the hint of a smile that showed enormous fangs and a fleshy tongue.

It continued walking with its hips rising sinuously, one side and the other - almost hypnotically when combined with the shifting of its tail.  However, when it didn't stop, Raven felt a pang of fear.

"Hold still," the manticore said as it approached.  It stopped above him and bent its head, so human-like and yet very inhuman.

"Wait, I- mmph!" Raven tried to say while wiggling in the bush.

The manticore lowered itself, pressing its chest against his body to force him down.  Paws touched his hands, dwarfing them as the padding flattened slightly against his delicate palms.  His words were cut off when the beast's tongue lashed against his neck, latching onto his skin with the spines covering its surface.  He expected pain but was surprised when, instead, he felt a gentle scratching that caused him to gasp.

The warm, wet tongue swept up to his jaw and over his cheeks.  He closed his eyes when it dragged over his face and then his mouth when his own tongue touched against it.  Although his blood was licked away, red remained on his cheeks and his long ears trembled as the pale skin grew dark.

It wasn't a kiss, he told himself

He'd never experienced one and his own kind were rare with their public displays.  And often with their private ones as well, highlighting their dwindling population.  Other races weren't quite so private and he'd been shocked to see what happened within a tavern.  Shocked at first before a strange ache and emptiness replaced it, along with a longing that was completely foreign to him.

Soon, the assault was over and the manticore sat back to regard its work before nodding solemnly.

"I was right," it said and Raven blinked rapidly.  It was one thing to hear the voice and not see the speaker, but now that he could see the creature, the voice was disconcerting.  Its cultured, deep voice, mixed with song-like lilts, belied the creature's predatory appearance.  "You do have a pleasing face."

The elf found his strength returning and he levered himself back up onto his elbow and then up to sit properly.  Pain radiated throughout his entire body in waves.

"How are you able to speak?" Raven asked and, immediately, he wished he could have the words back.  They were crass and thoughtless and he opened his mouth to apologize to his savior.

"I was raised by an old wizard," it said without a hint of offense.  Its tail brushed against the sand, burrowing slowly through with a casual display of strength.  "He found me wounded, cast off from my pride for being sickly.  He said it can happen sometimes, if our eggs are damaged before we hatch.  I watched over him in his final years and I mourned his death.  It was him who taught me speech and the ways of the world.  A human.  Wise and kind.  I loved him very much."

The speech shocked Raven into silence as he turned the words over in his mind, imagining the trials the manticore must've led.

"You're very honest," Raven told it.  He struggled, in his mind, for the pronoun to use.  The creature was so obviously a male, but some trick in his brain made the mental switch difficult to make. It was a beast - a monstrous creature and, surely, that made it an it.

"So I was taught," the manticore replied.  "To be true.  'Answer with honesty and you'll never fear your words.'  It was one of his favorite sayings.  Among others, if truth be told.  He was full of them - mottos by which he lived his life that he strived to pass onto me."

"What happened afterward?" Raven asked, enthralled and invested in the short but emotional story.

"I sought out my own kind," it told him.  "A new pride as my own was long gone.  I was seen as an oddity.  I tried integrating but, again, I was rejected.  However, I already knew I wouldn't be able to stay with them."

"Why?" Raven prompted.

"Hrrrrrm," the creature grunted.  "You're a curious one."

"I-  Wha- what are you-" Raven stuttered when the manticore brought a massive paw up towards his face.  He tried to jerk back, but his injuries held him in place.

With a single, silent flex of its paw, a pale, ivory claw was unsheathed to press lightly against Raven's cheek.  He expected coolness from its touch and so he was surprised to feel warmth instead.

"Rarely have I seen an elf, and never up close," it said and its voice was quiet.  Hushed and contemplative.  "Are all of your kind as enticing as you are?"

Raven's ears trembled from the touch and the praise.

But, especially the touch.

When was the last time? he asked himself before wincing at the memory of his former leader's hand against his chest.  When was the last time I felt the touch of someone that wasn't filled with hatred or disgust.  Or, worse, pity?

The elf's ears quivered by his cheeks until the gentle questing claw touched the trembling length.

"I- I- I'm certain I'm not as attractive as a lady manticore," Raven said.  "Assuming-"

He clamped his jaw shut before he delved into the yawning abyss of monstrous gender preferences.

It stared at him with its beautiful green eyes tracing over the soft, high lines of his cheekbones and down to his subtle chin.  In return, Raven found himself captivated.  Its fearsome countenance was tempered by a hint of a forlorn expression and quenched by majestic nobility.

Clear whiskers drooped slightly above the creature's black lips and only now did he hear a rough, rumbling, low growl.  Its tongue slipped out briefly between its fangs to touch its lips and Raven's lips parted in response with his breath drawn out of his chest by the sight of it.  By the sight of the creature's soft black lips and the pink tongue within.  A tongue that had washed over his face earlier, warm and wet.

"I-" he tried to speak but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his heart hammered beneath his slight chest.

His body betrayed him.  Yearning for the touch of another, he closed his eyes and leaned into the claw while tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

"You're in pain," the manticore said.  "And not from your fall.  Will you tell me of it?"

"I-"  His throat constricted and he clenched his teeth, biting back the sobs that threatened to seize him.

"Ah.  It's quite deep, isn't it?" the beast said.

Its claw shifted, replaced by the leathery padding of its paw and the fur surrounding it.  Now it cradled Raven's cheek and the elf turned to bury his face into the softness offered.

And he wailed.

Years - decades, really - of pain wore away the dam within and the creature's kindness found the crack, widening it until the dam broke.  He turned to hug the creature's arm and it lifted him gently from the bush before lowering him to the ground with its paw beneath him.

"I loved the wizard with all of my heart," the manticore said. Its voice was soothing and low but there was a strain within that intensified briefly when it continued.  "But, only when he passed.  Only then did I truly know what it meant to love.  I thought it was a fondness - gratitude for his care and attention.  I told myself that it was love - having learned of the word and concept from the wizard, but I didn't truly know what that meant until he passed."

The creature took a shuddering breath, steadying itself before he continued.  "I dream of him still and, in that fleeting moment when I wake and the dream feels real, I feel his presence.  And then, it's gone and the wound is fresh once more."

Raven's cries quieted.  He felt raw and tired, exhausted by the tears, the hunt, and his built up stress.

"What are you called, little one?" the creature asked.

"I'm- my name is Raven," the elf said and his eyes fluttered, suddenly too heavy to stay open.

"Raven," the manticore repeated.  It leaned forward.  Its warm breath puffed outward as it pressed its lips to the crown of the elf's head.  "I am Saf.  So named by the wizard who raised me."

The elf's eyes closed as exhaustion finally overwhelmed him.  Saf settled carefully next to him, fur against hand-stitched clothing.

"Sleep, then, and I will watch over you," the manticore told him gently.

"Saf..." the whispered voice trailed off.

---

Raven woke with a start, jolting awake with a shout, followed by a wince from the expected touch of thorns.

No pain followed and the elf looked around, surprised to see he lay against a bed of moss and not the expected bush he'd fallen into.  A breeze greeted him and gave thanks for his presence, bringing with it the scent of nearby berries and tiny animals.

The manticore was gone and a surprising pang of loss filled him.

"Ah, right," he sighed, when he remembered bawling his eyes out in front of the creature, only to fall asleep shortly after.  "A winning combination highlighting my excellent social skills and my vast network of friends that resulted from it."

It still hurt to move and his legs refused to work quite right.  In the silence of the forest, he checked himself, touching tender, bruised flesh to test for broken bones or torn flesh hidden by his eyes.  He had no potions to mend the wounds and, without his legs working, it would be difficult to forage for herbs to make his own salves in order to gently hurry his body's natural regenerative abilities.

He comes he comes he comes he comes the king he comes, an excited, playful wind sang as it swirled around him, twirling over his chest and up to his neck before vanishing.  It wasn't words, not exactly.  More like sensations and flashes of insight into the spiritual world.

Raven turned to the tickling prickling sensation to see the amber of Saf's fur appear in the darkness between the trees.  It- no, he, Raven decided, firming his lips as he rearranged his thoughts.  The manticore was no simple beast and he moved with an eerie silence.  His mane was a ghostly halo of guttering flame and when his face came into view, it was as if the manticore stepped into it - accepting it as a crown.

"Oh," Raven gasped quietly while raising his hand to his chest.  He blinked and shivered as he watched the grace with which Saf moved.  His heart fluttered as his body warmed and goosebumps raised over his skin, dimpling the smooth texture until he felt overwhelmed by the simple sensations of his clothing brushing against his body.

"Raven," Saf said with warmth and a feline smile, black lips wide with the hint of fangs showing.  His tail slashed behind its body until he glanced back at it and growled.  "You're awake.  I'm pleased."

"After my earlier experiences, so am I," Raven replied with a shaky smile.

Saf sat back with his tail curled tight against his back.  He stared at Raven boldly before nodding.

What?  Why?  What does that mean?? Raven wondered but he continued smiling, even if his lips trembled slightly in response.

"How are your legs?" Saf asked.  His whiskers shifted and his left paw dug slightly against the dirt.

"They're- I still can't use them well," Raven admitted.  For a moment, he'd been tempted to joke and play off the damage and pain, but, instead, found himself telling the truth.

"As I expected," Saf replied. "What do elves eat?"

The manticore leaned forward with a fluid, graceful movement while Raven leaned back slightly.  His mouth was suddenly dry and his stomach clenched, betraying the fear he felt.  And yet, the warmth he'd felt earlier peeked its head out, stirring as if the beast's breath stoked it back to life.

Saf raised his paw.  He wiped it on his body before angling it to touch Raven's bottom lips carefully.  Slight pressure pulled his lip down.

"Fruits and vegetables?" Saf wondered as he inspected Raven's teeth.

Raven felt a surge of indignation.  He batted the paw away.

"I'm not a damned horse!" the elf exclaimed with his ears trembling.

"Of course not," Saf said while sitting back.  "You're an elf."

"I'm just- you don't-" Raven sputtered.  "It's not normal to do what you did.  To touch someone without their permission like that.  And- and- to check their teeth!  I was about to answer you!"

Fur shifted on Saf's face, his feline features portraying a hint of confusion.

"I thought your wizard taught you how to act properly?" Raven said as he wiped his mouth.

He wasn't angry at the manticore.  He knew that.  He was flustered and unused to the touch of another and using that discomfort to lash out.

"My body is mine," Raven continued.  "And that- people consider certain parts of their body as- Weren't you taught any of this? Consent?  Personal space?  Anything?"

"He was old by human standards," Saf said.  His voice was lower - contemplative.  "I took care of him as his body gave out.  Cleaning him and caring for him.  I'm-"

"Hrrrrrmmmm," the growl was low and pained and Saf's whiskers quivered while he grinded his teeth and pawed at the ground.  When he spoke again, the feminine part of his voice was more prominent and tinged with a strange, faint warbling that betrayed the lion's influence.  His thick, rounded ears twisted and flexed repeatedly.  "Raven, I apologize.  I will remember.  You are not the wizard.  You are young, lithe, and the very image of elegance, of which I've never seen."

The great beast raised his paw to hide his eyes.  It was a peculiar gesture that left Raven cocking his head.

"You make my words twist in my mouth and my thoughts jumble together," Saf continued.  "I am awkward in your presence and my lessons are unfinished.  Do not let that stain my wizard's teachings."

"You-  I-  What?" Raven sputtered while feeling a warm blush pour down through the tips of his ears and down his cheeks before pooling over the top of his chest.  And then further, lower to his belly.  "Are you- are you mocking me, Saf?"

The paw slammed down and the manticore raised his head into a fearsome roar that caused birds to give flight.  A plume of dirt and shattered fragments of wood scattered around the creature.

"I.  Would.  Never!" he snarled

"You-" Raven started to say until movement caught his eyes.

A hidden slit opened in the bulbous tip of Saf's sheath, widening until a red tip slipped through.  The head of the beast's cock was pointed with a violet tinge and fleshy spines covered the thick shaft beneath.  Raven's mouth dropped open.

With yet another roar, Saf turned and leapt, crashing through the forest to vanish into the trees while the wind shrieked around Raven as if whipped by the beast's retreat.

Raven had assumed the compliments were part of the creature's speech - that it was taught to flatter strangers with a glib tongue. To draw them into danger, perhaps.  But, the manticore's touches combined with the words and, finally, the sight of its excitement painted a larger, more alarming portrait.  Raven pressed his hand to his lower stomach while staring at the wreckage left in Saf's wake.

What does that mean? he asked himself. His fingers massaged his taut belly before sliding lower while his teeth nibbled at his soft lip.

He could see it still and his damned mind kept replaying its emergence.  Only slower.  More tantalizing.  And he wondered - how soft was the sheath itself?  The fur that covered it?  His mind buzzed and his thighs pressed together.  Or the cock itself.  Were the spines sharp?  Were his testicles as heavy as they appeared?  He shivered and his teeth slid down to the back of his lip to pinch the flesh.  Was it warm?  Was that the musk he'd smelled when Saf had walked past him?  The musk that had made him-

"Mmmmph," Raven moaned while bowing his head.  His fingers curled as he pulled them away to clench his hands together.  Pain radiated from his legs when he tried to bend his knees so, instead, he leaned forward to press his chest against them while breathing steadily.

---

"May I approach?" Saf asked from where he was poorly hidden behind a laughably thin birch tree.  He had his head down, staring at the ground while his segmented tail lashed behind him.  The tree's trunk barely covered the width from one eye to the other.

"Y- Yes?" Raven said.

It was late evening and a chill filled the air, causing his teeth to chatter.  Furrows marked the earth where he'd dragged himself earlier in the day to relieve his bladder before returning to the soft bed of moss.  Now he groaned quietly while slowly bending and unbending his legs.  His delicate ears angled low as they occasionally tapped against his cheek when the pain sharpened.

The manticore stepped around the tree with a quiet backwards snarl at his tail.  His head drooped back down but he cast glances towards Raven as he walked.  He paused to sit back ten feet away from the elf, cloaked in the rippling shadows of swaying trees with stripes of silver moonlight caressing his fiery fur.

"Hrrrrrrm," Saf growled while pawing at the dirt.

Raven waited, forcing his eyes up to the creature's face.  Forcing his mind away from intrusive thoughts and his own imagination.  The chill from the night air began to fade and goosebumps lifted over his arms and back.

"I- I lost my composure today," Saf finally said.  The twining of the masculine and feminine tones in his voice was stronger, as if they were competing with each other.  "I showed you something abhorrent and my behavior was inexcusable."

"It wasn't-" Raven began to say but Saf growled quietly, cutting him off.

"Please," the creature interrupted. He slid his left paw forward, and then his right, going to all fours to bow his head.  "Forgive me."

"Of- of course I do," Raven stammered.  "You- you don't have to-  Listen.  You- I-  Please.  I'm not someone you need to abase yourself in front of."

"You are," Saf said with a strained voice.  "My heart stings to look upon you."

"What- what does that mean?" Raven asked while frowning with his brow creased.  "I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"May I approach?" Saf asked once more.

"Yes!  Gods and damnation, you don't need to ask for my permission just to stand before me!  Yes!"  Raven snapped.

Saf stood slowly but still his head was down as he moved forward.  His ears twitched relentlessly.  Raven expected him to stop at his feet, but he didn't.  Saf's mane pushed against Raven's chest and Raven raised his hands to embrace the creature by reflex.

Despite living in the wild, Saf's fur was luxurious and Raven exhaled a held breath in surprise when his hands sank deep to find skin beneath.  A grumbling growl greeted him and Saf's hot breath suffused his body, causing him to shiver as it coursed over his sensitive skin.  His own breath hitched before coming more rapidly and his traitorous fingers began to stroke Saf's fur.

Saf spoke quietly.  "Rejected by my pride, raised by a human, I cannot help but see the beauty of your kind.  The human-like races."

His voice dropped further, plaintive almost.  As Raven continued to stroke his hair, Saf began to roll his face with fine movements.  "And, of them, never have I seen one to match you.  This ache I feel when looking upon your face is painful and unfamiliar but it conjures urges and desires that I know but have never known how to express."

With a sigh, Raven leaned into Saf's fur while spreading his arms.  The faint musk was there but the overpowering warmth of Raven's body soaked into him while the scent of earth and forest and life itself wafted away from him.

"I know what I am," Saf growled.  "I know what I cannot do and what I cannot be.  But, I also know that I must speak the truth.  I would be honored to stay by your side, to guide and protect you until you're whole once more and able to resume your travels, wherever they may be.  When that time comes, I will mourn the loss of you."

"I'm no one," Raven said through a clenched throat.  "You know nothing of me, but I am unworthy of any of this.  An elf without wings who plummeted to his death, only to fail that as well.  I am no one."

"Then, tell me who you are," Saf said.  He moved once more, guiding Raven down to his mossy bed before laying beside him.  The great, noble beast wiggled slightly to ensure Raven's entire body touched his skin while his tail swept away from them.  "I know the form of you and your wit but little else."

"The form of me," Raven laughed bitterly.  "I was born already an oddity - a child with black hair and darker eyes.  You were cast out, but I was kept and it was worse.  There was toleration and nothing more.  I could see the hesitation in their eyes.  Wondering, always, what I meant.  Thousands of years of the same thing and then a black haired child appears.  Were the gods upset?  Should we expect a sickness in the forest?  I heard the whispered questions. I-"

Raven's breath shuddered as he exhaled and he turned to clutch the loose fur at the side of Saf's belly while pressing his face into the creature's warm body.  A wing unfolded, the ebony surface creaking slightly as it covered Raven.

Slowly, the elf pulled away to sit up.  His ears twitched furiously as he began to work his fingers over his tunic.  Saf watched him silently.

When the laces were undone, Raven hesitated with his hands around the base of his shirt.  His curved, full lips compressed and he pulled his shirt over his head to sit it on his lap.

"What do you see when you look at me, Saf?" Raven asked.

"Is this a puzzle of some kind?  My wizard often loved word games that-"  Saf said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Raven sighed and raised his hands to his chest to touch his large, pink nipples.  The hint of curved flesh lay beneath them over his otherwise flat chest.

"I paid a witch for a potion to make these go away and this is all my money could pay for," Raven said.  His hands massaged the faint bumps while avoiding his nipples.  Red touched his cheeks and he looked away from the manticore.

It's just a beast, he told himself, as if that would make it alright.

"I was never comfortable within my own skin.  My sisters were the beautiful ones with glowing long hair and dresses made of the wings of dragonflies.  They gathered suitors like I gathered toads while losing myself in the depths of our forest.  I learned to hunt and scout as the men did. I cut my hair short with a knife I bought by bartering skins."

With a fluid, practiced move, Raven pulled the dagger from the sheath on his lower back.  Now he did look up at Saf, but briefly before looking down at the weapon he held.  "This knife."

"Our women used to hunt beside the men, but as our numbers dwindled and the years passed without children, they were pulled back.  Made to do nothing more than please their husbands - from behind them, sitting quietly and serenely."

"I didn't want that," Raven said harshly.  And then he closed his eyes and sighed.  "And neither did the woman.  Of course they didn’t.  But even amongst them, I could never be what I was supposed to be, or feel what I was supposed to feel.  It was never just the role I’d been given, it nested deeper than that."

His fingers slid over the blade and his voice dropped to a whisper.  "I think, after all, that I will name my name 'Toothpick.'"

"It's a good name," Saf said quietly in return. His tail lay still and his eyes were wide as he rested with his head between his paws while watching the elf carefully.

"I rejected all of it," Raven continued with a soft voice.  "All of them.  All of-"

He gestured at his body.  "This.  I had never felt right and so I decided I'd make myself right.  And so, with the little money I had, I found a witch who made my chest smaller."

Raven's thumbs briefly touched his nipples and he shivered.  "But not these, no.  There wasn't quite enough money for that.  She had a spell to change everything - to make me a- a male.  As if I'd been born as one.  That's why I was with my last group.  The cost for ingredients for the spell is extraordinary.  Out of reach of most, in fact.  But, I can live for centuries.  I have time to make myself right.  To change who I am."

"I'm-" Raven's voice faltered.  He reached for his tunic to press it against his belly.  "I'm nobody, Saf.  I'm not your 'beauty.'  Your heart can rest at ease.  I'm just- lost.  And I'm trying to find my way.  My own way."

Seconds passed in silence with Saf watching Raven closely.

"I imagine," Saf said finally while sliding his paws closer to his face.  "That the toads you found were quite remarkable."

"Gods!" Raven yelled while leaning forward to press himself into his legs.  "You heard nothing of what I said, did you?  Nothing!  I'm nobody!  I'm a stupid elf who nearly died at the hands of my own companions and nobody would've mourned my death or even missed me.  Not even bones would have remained.  All because I can't accept who I am!"

A single paw slid out to the elf to nudge his hip gently.

"You don't have to be anything for me," the manticore said quietly.  "I did hear what you said and I mourn the life you lived, Raven."

The elf sighed.

"I'm tired, Saf," Raven said suddenly.  He sat back to pull on his shirt before laying on his side while closing his eyes.

"Then sleep," the beast said, curling and sliding until he enveloped the elf's body.  "Within my embrace, there is safety."