Northstar Vale a grin as sharp as a knife (mtr.)

with a low warble, andraste is off; he watches with heavy glacial gaze as she steps from the pool and flits up the caverns path to its exit not unlike the moonsprite he had first nicknamed her as. melkor gives her the head start, lifting himself from the pool and giving his coat a fierce shake to dispel the worst of the waterweight. still, he is made for brute force and not the speed with which his tonttu has as advantage on him. her scent trail is easy to follow, however;

and he follows after her, chasing her trail.

where andraste leads him, melkor doesn't know — and is, admittedly, a bit loathe to leave behind the seclusion of the cavern given how they were blatantly interrupted last time. nevertheless, he trusts her judgement and quickens his pace as her heady scent causes the ache for her to worsen. stronger her scent grows, hotter the fire burns, slower his steps are as he finally catches up to her.

i've caught you tonttu. though the irony that he thinks it's she that has ensnared him remains. even if it is true he thinks that he does not ever wish to be freed from her enchantment.