Deepwood Weald to wield old partisans in hands as old

Although she wished to flee - and tried wholeheartedly - he had done this dance before. It was unlike him to read her behavior so wrongly though, being a student of the natural ways. Ailithir thought he knew what she wanted. He thought that her inability to truly dissuade him or draw blood had been a test, or a game. And when she tried to flee, he fell in to step behind her - as if expecting it. 

She was graceful; she flowed through the forest like a wind while he followed doggedly behind. When she turned, he moved with anticipatory gestures and did not miss a step. When an obstacle came, she molded with the shadows and seemed to sculpt herself around it, or over it, or somehow under; and all Ailithir could do was estimate his own response, and follow. But he did not lose her in the wood. She, this Titania, leading him through a wonderful maze that in the back of his mind, thoroughly charmed him.

The beast did not relent; he pursued her through the weald as if she were a doe, and he a stag in rut - or worse, a wolf, for that was the truth. He knew the tricks of her kind, and kept himself upon her heel until she hopefully tired of the chase.