"I heard the stories about you," the boy murmured.
It was the only course of action he could see: reach out to the creature. Offer his friendship. After all, no one had ever done that for him.
The creature grunted. It was listening.
"I know why you did all those things," he continued. "No one else understands. They don't know what it's like, to have people not give you any chance because of how you look."
The creature bowed its head, and there was a brief silence. Not an uncomfortable one; the creature was not angry, and the boy was not afraid.
The campfire crackled between the two. The boy's eyes were trained there, lost in the dancing flames. An ember would occasionally fly from the blaze and land on one of them; the creature never flinched. Neither did the boy.
"They were afraid because you were different." The boy found his voice again. "So they were cruel. They tried to make you weak."
He could feel the creature's eyes on him. He did not meet them.
"It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. You became something to be feared because you had no other choice."
The boy saw the creature rise in his peripheral vision. He saw it approach, and his eyes drifted shut as he felt a cold, scaly claw caress his cheek. It was oddly comforting.
The creature tilted the boy's head up as he opened his eyes. Their gazes met.
His breath caught as he stared into the molten honey eyes, flecks of orange and gold glittering in the firelight. He saw them swirling with those feelings that he knew so, so well: Fear. Sorrow. Apprehension... and hope.
He sighed as the claw stroked his scarred face; the mangled, toughened flesh, disfigured by flames so many years ago. Looking into this being's eyes, he could forget. He could forget the pain, the ridicule, the loneliness. He could be at peace with it. He could forget the wreckage around him, the mauled corpses of those who had been so cruel to him.
"Thank you," he croaked, a tear rolling down his unblemished cheek, "for saving me."
The creature agreed to take him along on its journey.
