Deepwood Weald To quietly pass me by

The sound of the girl's frustrated voice made his ears swivel; he wondered if one day someone would say the same thing about him, or perhaps one of his progeny. It would be accurate either way.

She tried to slip away from him but Aquila's attention was thoroughly invested - he caught up almost to her exact position by the time she'd escaped the hold of the vines, and from there he had only to follow her scent. It was thick; she had left many tufts of fur behind when she'd tried to tear away from her captivity.

He could not hear her but Aquila was practiced in the games that women played. It would take time, but he had all the time and the patience that he needed - and eventually she would grow tired of the fight, and succumb to his advance.