Barrow Fields shine a light into the wreckage

assumed a thing, let me know if it needs changing

Just as he was about to catch the mouse he was chasing, Alarian scented a stranger. Instinctively he turned to look-- and tripped in the process, crumpling with an abrupt yelp. He stayed like that for a moment, ears flattened with mortification, and berated himself mentally.
The boy dared not look at the stranger again, not yet. He trained his gaze on the ground, still curled in the awkward, folded position he had fallen in. When he finally dared a glance, it didn't help at all.
Ali froze; even from a distance, even though the stranger seemed to have something wrong with him, he was immediately attracted to him. The wind brought him the metallic tang of blood, and for a moment he forgot his shame. Perhaps it was unfair, but a pretty stranger in distress certainly got him moving more than the one from before had. He rose slowly and made his way to the other, lowering his head as he neared.
The proximity reminded him of his shame, but Alarian steeled himself against it.
You're hurt. The boy murmured shyly, unable to refrain from casting an admiring glance over the other male. He didn't think about any possible danger-- not when the stranger had such beautiful eyes. Only the faint scent of infection drew him from these thoughts; moreover, the scent of pack, though for the moment he did not connect the dots. Why was he alone now? Do you need help?