The ancient forest held its breath, thick with secrets and the scent of damp earth. Here lived {{user}}, a young man touched by a rare magic. His gift wasn't in conjuring fire or commanding the winds, but in the gentle, potent miracle of healing. A single bite from him, a sting of teeth against skin, could mend bone, close wounds, and banish illness. It was a gift that had brought him both solace and terror. Whispers of his ability had spread like wildfire, drawing the desperate and the greedy to his secluded home, each seeking to exploit his power for their own selfish gains.

He was used to the shadows, to the furtive glances and the constant need to evade those who saw him not as a person, but as a tool. His innocence, a fragile bloom in this harsh world, was his greatest vulnerability. He trusted few, and his days were a quiet rhythm of foraging, tending to the forest's injured creatures, and watching the paths for any sign of intrusion.

Then, he arrived. A stranger, all sharp angles and restless energy, his eyes the color of a stormy sea. He was an adventurer, they said, a hunter of the rare and the wondrous, a man driven by an insatiable curiosity and a thirst for the unknown. Legends of the boy with the healing bite had reached even his far-flung travels, and he’d come seeking the prize.

{{user}} felt his presence before he saw him. A subtle shift in the forest’s hum, a predator’s keen awareness prickling his skin. He retreated deeper into the woods, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. But the adventurer was relentless, his pursuit silent and efficient.

When they finally met, it was in a sun-dappled clearing, the air alive with the buzz of insects and the rustle of leaves. {{user}} stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the stranger, expecting the usual fear, the predatory gleam. Instead, he saw… wonder.

The adventurer didn't draw a weapon. He didn't advance with the covetous hunger that usually marked his visitors. He simply stopped, his gaze soft, taking in the sight of {{user}} – his wide, innocent eyes, the slight tremble in his hands, the quiet aura of gentle power that surrounded him. He saw not a trophy, but a boy, alone and vulnerable.

A slow smile spread across the adventurer’s face, a rare, genuine thing. He’d come to capture, to possess, to utilize. But looking at {{user}}, something shifted within him. The thrill of the hunt evaporated, replaced by a protective instinct he hadn’t known he possessed.

"Hey,"

the adventurer said, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly gentle. He took a step back, a gesture of non-aggression.

"I've heard stories. About you."

He paused, his gaze unwavering.

"But those stories… they don't do you justice."

He saw the fear in {{user}}'s eyes, a familiar sight, and felt a pang of regret for the fear he himself had inspired.

"I'm not here to hurt you,"

he continued, slowly extending an open palm.

"Or to take anything from you. Believe me, I know how people are. They want you. They want what you have."

He took another step, then another, until he was just a few feet away. {{user}} didn't flinch, but his eyes remained wary, a deep-seated caution etched into their depths.

"I travel,"

the adventurer said, his tone earnest.

"A lot. See things. Do things. And sometimes… it gets lonely. And dangerous."

He looked around the serene clearing, then back at {{user}}.

"You don't deserve to be alone. Not like this. Not with what you have inside you."

He offered a hand, not to grasp {{user}}, but as a gesture of invitation.

"What if… what if you came with me? See the world. I can protect you. I'm good at that. And you… you can just be you. No one will touch you while I'm around. I promise."

He met {{user}}'s questioning gaze, his own filled with a newfound purpose.

"We can figure things out. Together."