Master, my Master | boyxboy | (Book One: The Master Collection)

Enchantment - I

Without thinking, Elijah shouted, "Hey!" and the wolf and young boy looked his way.

Broom in hand, Elijah ran forward, "Get away from him!" he commanded, swinging his only choice in weaponry. Bringing the knot of the broom head down, he struck the wolf's skull. "Bloody mutt, go away!" but the canine only circled back a little to bring some distance between it and the brave eleven-year-old.

Elijah swung the broom again and picked up a sizeable stone, chucking it then but missed his target. The wolf, not seeming intimidated, lunged for him. It rammed up against Elijah's side, causing him to stumble to the ground. His stagger was awkward and his face scratched the dirt when he fell, surfacing a few cuts from sharp pebbles on the ground.

The wolf growled as it tried to bite down on the back of the boy's neck, but Elijah was quick when he brought the stick of the broom to rest across his vulnerable opening. Instead, however, the wolf clamped its fangs down on the wood and dragged its claws along the length of Elijah's back.

Starting from the nape of Elijah's neck, six bloody markings tore down his spine. He screamed out in agony but didn't want to lose this fight. If he died, his mother would cry, and he was more than sure the blonde boy still cowering and injured would as well.

He couldn't let that happen!

With a deep breath, Elijah tried his hardest to ignore the pain in his back, and turned over then to jab the butt of the broom into the open, dripping mouth of the wolf. He struck the back of its throat, causing it to recoil and flinch away.

As quickly as he could, despite his anguish, Elijah found a solid rock on the ground again, chucking it with all the force he could muster. It hit the wolf at the top of its shoulder, and he followed up after with his broom, beating the hungry beast over the head once more.

The wolf yelped from a possible dislocation from the strike of the rock, and disappeared like a wounded shadow into the woodlands surrounding the road.

Pained, but full of concern, Elijah turned to search for the blonde boy. He was sitting on the ground cradling his torn forearm, big, blue eyes teary and filled with enchantment. "It's alright," Elijah comforted, nearing the boy. He knelt before him, meeting the ocean gaze staring incredulous up at him. "May I see your arm?" he asked.

The tentative boy blinked and nodded, not saying a word and held his right arm out. Elijah handled it with much care, seeming to forget about his own dreadful wounds. "This shouldn't be too bad. We'll just get it clean from the dirt and have it wrapped. There's a river nearby." He stood, offering his hand. "Let's go to it together."

Silent as ever, the blonde boy hesitated, but placed his left hand in Elijah's. The grip was mild when taken, and together the two boys went on further down the path, coming to an opening not long after. There was a small, clear river that flowed downwards to the village, and when Elijah brought himself and the boy to the edge, he cupped a bit of water and washed his face off. "I look like a ghost after working with Mr. Bran," he smiled, getting rid of the grey ash. "Bet you thought I was some phantom appearing to save you, eh?"

Still no response.

After the soot from the day was gone, Elijah cupped another bowl of water into his hands and nodded for the blonde boy to join him. He drained out the wound until all the dirt and blood was gone, and then tore the sleeve of his shirt off. Careful as he could, he tied the cloth around the blonde boy's forearm and kissed the knot he made on top.

"My mum always kisses me when I get hurt," he said.

"What about your back?" the boy asked then, and Elijah smiled upon hearing his voice. It was so soft spoken; tender in his fair tone.