Through the thickly forested trees drifted a harmonious variety of birdsong, their small feathered bodies dappled with sunlight that filtered through the wide leaves as they hopped and fluttered from branch to branch, jewel bright eyes always searching, glittering in the sun. A lithe figure stood is still as a rock in the shadow of a maple tree, leaning back against the trunk, Following the flittering progressions of the tiny flock of birds with slanted almond shaped eyes The color of violets. She was angular and beautiful, Like a forest cat, with delicate features and the grace of a dancer even in stillness. Her body was long and tall, With the gentle curvature of muscles and femininity, covered in softly golden skin without any visual blemishes. The hair that fell from her head cascaded in loos curls to the middle of her back, loosely styled into a partial half ponytail, and was intricately woven around and through a delicate circlet of white gold and sapphires, and was a beautiful red gold in color.Her ears poked through the tresses to either side of her face and tapered into points on their tops, extending a good two inches past where humans ended. For Aelysia was not human at all, But rather one of the fair forest elves...

Time passed as she watched the lively birds, the sun crawling across the sky just out of sight beyond the canopy and with the realization of its passage responsibility could be sensed creeping down upon her, thoughts inevitably turning to her Father, her Mother, delegation parties, council meetings...As a long and silent sigh passed through her full pink lips, the fair elf maiden splayed her Long fingers against the tree, Pushing herself away from the protective shadows and turning to step deeper within the trees, leaving the trill of music behind her for now. The threads of her mind drifted as her light steps quietly carried her through the underbrush and maze of trunks, lingering on dark tidings and disturbing occurrences taking place within her own beloved forest of Faernilva.

She frowned slightly as she remembered a request of her father's that she be present at a meeting he had arranged with the Elvin King of the northern Pinewood Forests, Composing greetings and formalities in order within her mind. Lifting her dark green and tan skirts in slender hands, she carefully stepped over a half rotten log on the edge of a small clearing, Debating borrowing one of her mother's sea pearl necklaces for the occasion. She couldn't stay away from her duties for much longer, The precious handful of hours she had begged for and received only two having already trickled away into nothingness. The Princess of one of the three major Elvin cities was not allowed to take the day off when there might be a chance that her people were in danger, after all. So Princess Aelysia Lanvalin did her best not to puff out her cheeks with another sigh, reigned in any complaints she might have made while free of any listening ears, and prepared herself mentally for the upcoming discussion that was sure to take many hours yet, and pick apart the rumors that the humans were planning on starting another war.

The buzzing chaos of conversations filled the town streets as merchants tried to sell their wares, and buyers negotiated boisterously over prices. The light of the late spring sun filtered lazily through the gaps in the clouds above, casting its heavenly golden streams to the earth. Bodies of the young and old alike crowded together, a few children laughing and chasing each other through the cobbled streets.
Ryathane scowled and drew the hood of his scarf tighter around his face. It just had to be market day. Despite the crowds, he wove his way expertly between the shoppers.
From beneath the shadow of his hood, his eyes locked on a pompous-looking man dressed in richly colored clothes finer than most others around him. He stood a few yards away in front of a booth, haggling with a woman selling jewelry, trying to talk her down to an unreasonably low price.
Ryathane snorted in disapproval and slunk closer. He nonchalantly brushed against the man, his gloved hand slipping easily in and out of one of the man’s pocket.
“Watch it, boy!” the man snarled, turning, but the boy had already disappeared into the crowd.
The eighteen-year-old ducked into a mostly deserted alleyway. With his back to the crowded street, he looked to the velvet pouch now in his hand. A smug smile spread over his face at the satisfying weight of coins inside. Pausing, he dumped five silver and two gold coins from the pouch to his hand, then transferred them into the leather pouch hanging around his belt.
Reaching the end of the alley, he stopped, watching people pass by in the town square beyond. A church, its Gothic spires rising above the other buildings, stood opposite him, a grand brick staircase leading to the heavy-looking double doors.
Making his way quickly across the square, he slipped the velvet pouch onto the edge of a stand piled high with vegetables, then ascended the steps to the church. He reached toward one of the cast iron handles on the doors, but stopped as a poster tacked viciously to the stone beside it caught his attention.
The words, “Wanted by Order of the King” stood out on the thick parchment. Beneath it, a skilled artist had drawn a picture of an elf, his ears pointed and an evil gleam in his uncolored eyes. Ryathane made a choking sound as he read the reward written below in a calligraphic hand: 20,000 gold coins.
He knew well of the hatred some still held for these fantasized creatures, but no one had seen them since long before his birth. To seek them out and offer such a generous reward…
Looks like the king’s finally lost it, he thought, tearing the page from the wall and fingering the rough parchment. With a shake of his head, he folded the parchment and stuffed it absently in his pouch.
Turning back to the church doors, he opened one side just enough for him to slip by. He closed it as quietly as he could, the thud of it shutting echoing over the domed stone ceiling. The sounds of the people outside vanished, leaving only a reverent, tangible silence.
Wooden pews lined both sides of the glittering granite aisle. Light filtered in through stained glass windows, casting brilliant rainbow hews over the sanctuary.
Ryathane stepped aside as a woman in a plain dress went to the door. They shared a quick nod in greeting before the woman left. With the woman gone, he looked around, searching, until his gaze fell upon a single man with graying hair kneeling at one of the pews, his head bowed.
He strode toward the man, the slight heels on his tall boots clicking against the stone. Sliding into the only occupied pew, he sat a couple feet from the man, the sheath of the short sword at his waste tapping against the wood. He slouched in the pew, draped his arms atop the pew’s back, and waited.
The pudgy man glanced over, then took a double take. He stood and stepped back. “Can I help you?”
“I was told I’d find you here,” the boy answered, his voice hushed. He took in the man’s crooked nose and the worry lines etched onto his face. “I hear you’ve got a manticore problem, mayor.”
The man squared his jaw as he regarded Ryathane. “Have you? And who might you be?”
“Shade Thatcher.” Ryathane placed his legs on the top of the pew in front of him and crossed them at the ankles.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“I get around.” He stretched, tilting his head back and letting his hood fall from his strong, angular face. “If you want that thing gone, I’d be happy to help. As long as the reward for its head still stands.” He looked to the mayor, the bangs of his messy hair brushing sideways over his eyebrows.
The man blinked, startled at the boy’s eyes as the light of one of the windows sparked in Ryathane’s one red and one blue iris.
“I’ve heard of you,” the mayor said slowly.
“Then that should make this go smoothly.” Ryathane stood, the mayor an inch shorter than him.
The mayor took another step back, his hand going to the hilt of a dagger at his belt.
Ryathane rolled his eyes. “Does the reward still stand or not?”
“Yes.”
“How many plan on hunting for it tonight?”
“A dozen men are preparing as we speak.”
“Call off their search. They’ll only get in my way.”
The mayor snorted. “You’re just a boy! What makes you think you could do better than a dozen of my trained men?”
Ryathane raised his eyebrows. “Apparently you didn’t listen to what you heard.”
Before the mayor had time to react, Ryathane jumped onto the seat of the pew, swept behind the mayor, drew the man’s dagger from beneath his grasp, and placed the flat of the blade against the mayor’s throat.
“Put me in a room alone with your men, mayor, and I’ll show you,” he whispered in the mayor’s ear. “Or you could just leave the manticore to me.”
He quickly placed the mayor’s dagger back in its sheath and jumped away as the man spun around, fear in the mayor’s eyes as he redrew his dagger.
Ryathane crossed his arms loosely and smirked. “Call off your men and give me two nights. You’ll get your manticore, I’ll get my pay, and your people will live happily ever after. It’s a win-win situation. Now put that,” he nodded to the dagger, “away before you hurt yourself.”
The mayor glared at him for a moment, the boy returning his look with amusement.
“Fine,” the mayor said grudgingly. “You’ve got two days, Mr. Thatcher. I want that manticore eradicated.”
“It will be.” Ryathane gave a mocking half-bow, turned on his heels, and strode confidently from the church, the ends of his coat flaring slightly around his knees.

The sound of hooves thudding rhythmically against the ground soon broke through the cloud of thoughts in her mind, Aelysia's head turning instinctively towards the rhythmic pounding, fighting off another temptation to sigh as she recognized the noise. Her father had not been as patient as she would have hoped. Barely 3 heartbeats had occurred after this realization before a large animal galloped into the clearing, the stag flaring his nostrils as he released a snort as the lithe figure on his back pulled up on the reins to bring him to a stop only a few feet away from the maiden.

"My Lady," the Elvin warrior sighed with relief, even as he leapt from the back of the deer and sprinted the last several feet. Looking extremely anxious, the Raven haired warrior pressed the pads of his left hand's fingers into the hollow of his opposite shoulder respectfully, inclining his head as he did so.

"Peace Daneil, I was just returning home now," Aelysia soothed, pressing The fingertips of her right hand into the hollow of her left shoulder in return. But before she could quite fully articulate this sentence, the warrior was already shaking his head, raising one of his hands to cut in. The interruption had her lifting her eyebrows with surprise.

"I have not come in search for you to escort you back home, Lady Aelysia," Daneil said firmly, his words picking up speed as he spoke until they almost ran into one another. "Your father sent one of his starlings with an urgent message. You are to meet him and the Lady Olowin near the Eastern border as soon as possible."

At that moment, as he mentioned the Starling, Aeylisia noticed the small blue and orange bird perched on the other's shoulder for the first time, watching the two elves with intensity and intelligence uncommon to their species. But despite these surprising attributes, neither seemed to be surprised in the slightest. But that was because this was one of King Laein's birds. And Aeylisia's father had the ability to speak to the birds in a way that was rare even among their people. So after a brief moment in which she simply blinked once, redirecting her thoughts from scoldings and overprotective parents, she noticeably straightened her back as a serious expression crossed her face.

"Did he say what the problem was?" She asked quickly, muscles tensing as she prepared herself to run.

"No, my Lady."

That was all she needed to hear. Turning her body as she pivoted on the ball of one foot, Aeylisia immediately launched into a full out sprint, strides as long as she could make them in her set of skirts. She snorted softly just as the starling flitted by, chirping shrilly to get her attention before using his ability to mimic speech to urge her to "Follow". Not in these skirts... Murmuring The spell she wanted under her breath with confidence, The same instant that she magicked away her inhibiting clothing, her form shimmered and shrank, falling forward on to four legs before she really took off. Running now as a wolf, wavy fur colored red gold like her hair, she practically flew through the forest, convinced that now she could follow her father's instructions to come as quickly as possible. And if running as a wolf was one of her favorite things to do, so much the better. She rarely got the chance to let loose like this anymore and it felt wonderful! Tilting back her head, Aeylisia released a piercing howl of joy as she kept up easily with the bird guiding her to the perimeter of the forest.

Ryathane wove his way through the city, utilizing the backstreets. Using the money he had acquired from the pompous man earlier, as well as what little he had to start with, he went from shop to shop, purchasing a few items he would need: bottles of poison for his arrows. An extra net the merchant claimed to be enchanted. A gnarly looking bear trap, the barter with the blacksmith taking him longer than Ryathane wanted to admit. A small slab of meat, cut into three smaller pieces for bait. Then, of course, with the leftover money, a handful of jerky and a loaf of bread baked to perfection by a rather flirtatious woman baker.

As the glorious colors of twilight painted the sky, turning the clouds into flames floating in the navy sea of the creeping night, Ryathane made his way through the surrounding forest. With his items in a “borrowed” sack slung over his shoulder, he hiked down the beaten path outside the town for a short distance, then turned into the woods themselves.

The late evening darkened beneath the trees, but his eyes adjusted easily to the shadows. He made his way expertly through the underbrush. After a couple minutes, he stopped near a dense cropping of trees, the shrubs around it growing wildly.

Setting his bag on the ground, he reached into the bushes around one of the trees. He pulled his bow and quiver of arrows from beneath the shrubbery, slung the bow across his back, and quickly hooked the quiver to his belt. After prying a crude, leather backpack from a hallow near the tree’s base, he picking up the sack once more, and set out deeper into the woods. He easily relocated the manticore’s trail he had found that morning.

After choosing a base near the center of the beast’s trail, he made haste to set everything up before the manticore began its hunt.

He pulled out the skillfully wrapped net from the burlap sack. Drawing his dagger, he tried once more to cut the tightly woven net, but the sharp blade refused to make even the slightest of scratches. After rigging it to ensnare any who stepped into it, he covered the net with debris of the forest floor, making it blend in with the ground, and carefully placed a slab of meat near it.

He hurried to set up the bear trap and two other, smaller enchanted nets he had in his pack. After placing the net without bait in the most trafficked area, he ran a line from each of the nets through the trees to a single, grand oak growing proudly from the earth. He tied each cord to a different branch in the treetop, creating a hidden signal system for if something tripped one of his nets.

With the sun all but vanquished by the horizon, Ryathane returned to the ground, grabbed his pack, and climbed nimbly up the copious branches sprouting from the tree trunk. He sat where two thick branches entwined, the surrounding leaves hiding him from view below. He hung his pack from one nearby branch and draped his bow carefully on another.

He pulled one of the bottles of poison from where he had transferred them into his pack. He fingered it for a moment, before gripping it firmly.

“Been a while since I’ve had this luxury,” he muttered, an excited smile on his lips as he unstoppered the wide-necked bottle. Exercising caution, he dipped the tips of his arrows individually into the bottle, holding them each out for the few seconds it took for the liquid to dry.

With the shadows of night finally fully encompassing the forest, Ryathane placed the last arrow back into his hip quiver, then made himself as comfortable as he could.

The music of the night sounded around him as nocturnal creatures stirred from their slumber. Crickets chirped, their chorus joined by the howl of a wolf. Another wolf answered the first, but a waking owl interrupted it.

Ryathane closed his eyes, listening. His muscles remained tense and ready to pounce should he hear anything amiss, or one of his traps snag something. His stationary form blended perfectly with the shadows saturating the tree branches as the hunter waited with patient vigilance for his prey.

After a time, when her muscles were warm and her breaths began to come in pants, Aeylisia became aware of an odd scent mingled in with the regular scents of the forest that made her nose wrinkle. Her steps slowed as her dark purple eyes swept The area around her, upper lip curling back away from her teeth as the smell stung The insides of her nostrils and the surface of her eyes. Unable to stand the sickly sweet smoke smell in her more sensitive nose any longer, she called on her magic once again, pushing the form of the wolf away from her and straightening up into her elvin body once more. Coughing A few times at the acrid taste the smoke had left in her mouth, she finally managed to form the words that would bring her clothing back, The light brown and dark green of the material appearing a moment later. Fingers flying momentarily over the folds of her skirts to smooth out the wrinkles, the elf Maiden took a steadying breath to adjust to her two legged form before hurrying forward once again in a light sprint.

"Aeylisia, Child, you have come at last. Come here."

The voice belonged to a beautiful male elf standing just outside of a small clearing, his tall muscular frame turned in the direction where the princess broke through a long clump of ferns. His golden hair framed is angular face, left loose in a liquid sheet that fell across his shoulders and down his back. His eyes, the exact same shade of violet as his daughter's, were intent on her face as Aeylisia approached, returning her greeting as she pressed her fingers into her right shoulder by touching his left.

"I came as quickly as I could Father. What is going on here?" Aeylisia asked calmly, though her insides were roiling with astonishment and anger.

The wave of heat trapped by the trees was a physical, as well as an emotional, slap in the face as Aeylisia made her way into the unnatural clearing to her parents, a small gasp just managing to escape from her lips at the inhibiting temperature and tightness of the skin on her face. Blinking several times, she fought past The feeling of wanting to stop, to turn back into the coolness of the forest and get as far away from this place as she could. Gritting her teeth together as tightly as she could stand, The redhead stalwartly continued forward, pressing her uncertainty back as she turned away from the raging flames consuming a portion of her beloved forest, Doing her best to ignore the uncomfortable prickling that doing so sent down her back, The trickle of sweat it triggered. She focused all of her attention on greeting her father, allowed her mother to approach and press a gentle kiss against the corner of her cheek.

A look of grim understanding crossed King Laein's face as he recognized the strong emotion in his daughter's eyes. He turned out towards the crude clearing, gaze drifting over the axes abandoned on the forest floor, The irregular shape of the cut and cleared trees, the fires that had been stoked in the hopes that The flames would be able to consume the felled branches and trunks, and finally coming to rest on the contorted shapes of the bodies laying near the impromptu weapons they had begun to use as the elves had come to stop their work. With a deep breath through his mouth that he then released in a sigh through his nose, Laein reached out to touch the tips of his fingers against his wife and daughter's hands.

"... It seems... that man is becoming less ignorant of our existence," he said carefully, feeling it when Aeylisia flinched with surprise. "They came bearing rather... crude drawings of our people. It seems the king of the land indeed wants one of us. Alive."

Aeylisia released a hiss of surprise, taking a sharp step back from her parents and staring up at their faces to see the varying expressions of alarm and outrage etched into their own features. Nostrils flaring, the elf Woman lifted her chin, determination lining her features as she finally spoke once more. "Father. I don't want the humans to destroy our home... Please allow me to inspect the borders for any sign of others attempting to destroy the forest."

Lady Olowin gasped, Her expression of alarm turning to one of fright at the idea of her only daughter attempting to confront a group of humans on her own, one of her hands flying up to cluch at her throat. "Daughter! You can't," she breathed, looking imploringly up at her husband.

Gazing for a moment at the panicked expression on his wife's face, Laein began to shake his head."... It is too dangerous-"

"please," Aeylisia interrupted desperately, clasping her hands before her. "I cannot sit idly by while my home is under attack. I must defend it! I'm begging you," she pled.

The King paused, eyes thoughtful and sad as he studied the determination and fire in Aeylisia's face, The way in which her jaw set in a stubborn fashion that reminded him so very much of her mother. Turning to look deep within Olowin's pale blue eyes for several moments, he finally released a long sigh. "I cannot stop her. She is far too much like you my love," he smiled, brushing his fingertips along the queen's cheekbone. "Let her go. She will be safe." Turning to his daughter once more, his expression hardened slightly. "Do not engage if you are outnumbered. Send word with the birds and we will come."

"Thank you father," Aeylisia cried, twisting her hand over her heart in a sign of affection for her parents before she whirled for The trees, allowing them to see her magic away her clothing once more and take on the shape of a wolf before she plunged into the forest, hoping that the reminder that she was not without weapons would soothe her mother. Digging her nails into the ground, she propelled herself forward at an immense speed, arcing her path along the edge of the forest, nostrils dilated is she breathed in the scents, searching for any telltale sign of smoke or freshly cut wood, ears perked attentively for the sharp sounds of chopping.

Miles stretched out beneath her flying paws as she ran, no sign of any living thing that should not have been there making it self evident in the quickly fading light. As time went on and the snarl that had curled her muzzle began to fade, Aeylisia allowed her steps to begin to slow, her head swiveling in time with her ears as she searched. Part of her wanted to refuse the evidence before her, the reassurances that there were no other humans attempting to invade her forest. She growled deep within her throat, annoyed at the idea that she wouldn't get the chance to sink her fangs into any of the murderer's flesh. Snorting with displeasure, she had just begun to turn away to head back to her family when the wind shifted and she froze mid stride.

'Blood...' She concluded, the rusty smell causing her nose to twitch and her muzzle to wrinkle.

Treading forward carefully now, Aeylisia slowly began to nose her way through the bushes at the base of a huge old oak tree, the tang of blood and raw meat increasing with each step. Sliding out silently from the clump of leaves and branches, fully expecting to discover a human Camp to lay on the other side, Aeylisia momentarily stiffened with astonishment at the lack of activity. Blinking once quickly, she glanced back over her shoulder as if to make sure she hadn't somehow walked past them, before sniffing intently to ensure that the smell of the blood was still in the air. Dropping her nose to the ground, she began to trace the scent across the ground, detecting faint hints of what she had been looking for. Human. Before she could fully wrap her head around the concept of someone entering the forest only to turn around and leave without taking fresh kill along with them, her paws encountered something that was unexpected among the strewn leaves and the soft Moss and had just bunched her muscles to Leap away from the braided cords of rope when The entire thing suddenly sprang up around her, knocking her off her paws with a surprised yelp and quickly enclosing her in a tight net of rope. After her initial shock, the red gold wolf began to struggle violently against the trap, snapping her teeth against the bindings and sending the net swinging in a way that made her dizzy. But no matter how hard she struggled, how sharply she bit, the ropes simply would not loosen. 'NO!' Her thoughts screamed, receiving only an aching in her teeth from her efforts that made her whine. With a renewed snarl, Aeylisia began to shake The rope fiercely between her jaws, Back-and-forth, hoping to break the binding and set her free.

This was the part he hated: the waiting. The luster and beauty of the forest at night slowly lessened, the chirps, howls, and bird calls of the late evening becoming little more than annoying background noise as time ticked by. He had observed as a family of raccoons played obliviously at the tree trunk beneath him, contemplating on startling them just for a bit of entertainment. Instead, he only watched as they left, their presence soon replaced by a lone fox slinking through the woods. It paused, sniffing at the air, then scampered onward.

As hunger gently nudged its way into his stomach, Ryathane dug the loaf of bread from his pack, tore a piece from it, and began to nibble at the crust, careful to not let too many crumbs fall to the ground.

He looked up at the gentle flutter of wings as a nightingale alighted on a branch in front of him. The small bird cocked its head, eyeing him carefully as Ryathane looked back at it.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly, his voice hushed. He shifted slightly on his branch seat, the leaves around him whispering as the thick branch shuddered slightly.

The bird took a daring hop closer to him and chirped as if in answer before eying the bread.

“Shoo.” He waved the back of his hand at the bird, but it only cocked its head and chirped louder.

Ryathane made a show of rolling his eyes. “Oh, fine.” He peeled off a small portion of the crust. “But if you tell your friends, I swear I’ll hunt you down.” Curling his legs beneath his branch to keep his balance, he leaned forward and placed the crispy strip of bread on the bird's chosen perch. “And don’t think I can’t.”

The bird hopped away, eyeing him suspiciously. As soon as Ryathane retracted his hand, the bird hopped forward, eagerly grabbed the bread in its sharp beak, and flew off.

“What, no ‘thank you?’” Ryathane muttered as it disappeared beyond the protective layer leaves around him. “Ungrateful little worm-eater.” He leaned back, picking out a fluffy portion of the bread. As he popped it in his mouth, his attention snapped to one of the rigged twigs as the rope pulled from it.

“'Bout time!” Wasting no time, he shoved his remaining bread unceremoniously back into his pack. As he grabbed his bow, he paused as another trap announced it had sprung. Making a quick note of which ones had triggered, he climbed down the tree with speed and agility that would have left most staring in amazed jealously.

He made his way expertly through the forest, his feet scarcely making a sound as he slunk through the thick shadows. Despite the darkness, his sight held true as he quickly made his way to the first sprung trap, hoping it would house the manticore.

Nearing the place of the first trap, he hid behind a wide tree, his back pressed against the rough bark, and listened.

Ryathane frowned as a lupine snarl echoed through the trees in place of the feline growls he expected form a manticore. Carefully to avoid detection just in case, he peered out from behind the tree.

The net dangled and swayed a yard above the ground, its wide mesh suspended from a tree above. Inside, a wolf struggled and bit at the weave, but the spells on it held, the creature’s sharp fangs incapable of penetrating it. Ryathane tried to make out the color of its fur, but the task proved difficult in the darkness even for his eyes. A red, perhaps? A rarer color, for certain.

With an irritated sigh, he stepped into the open as he nocked a poison-tipped arrow, its point facing the ground. “At least tonight won’t be a waste,” he muttered as he drew the arrow back and took aim.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caused Aeylisia's entire body to go rigid with alarm, snarls almost instantly muted into a low growl. Turning towards the figure that stepped into the clearing as far as she could, she felt her lips pull back from her fangs as the outline of a human materialized from the shadows. At first, she didn't immediately recognize the shape he lifted in his hands, so overcome with the desire to kill the stranger was she, but the glittering of moonlight off of metal distracted her from the violent urge enough to mentally take a step back from the situation and consider her position. Only then did she see the arrow pointed directly at her chest. Shock washed through her body, her thoughts suddenly racing, trying to untangle themselves from one another long enough to coherently try to comprehend the consequences of what she planned on doing next. But she didn't have time. The bow creaked as the arrow was drawn tight and before the human could let it fly she gathered her magic to her once again, pushing away The shape of her canine body, shifting into her elvin limbs and twisting her body up so that she could grasp the net within her hands.

"stop! Do not shoot me," she cried, her voice lilting and strangely accented as she used common. Her insides writhed with the necessity to beg for her life from a creature who's brothers had desired to destroy her forest, to reignite the flames of an old war. But she saw beyond her anger that she was at the mercy of this man, her body exhausted with the quick succession of spells she had been using that day, the miles she had run... She doubted whether she would be able to do anything substantial from within the confines of rope with so little energy. And who would be able to break her from the net if she had? No, she would proceed diplomatically until she was released... If she was released.

The creature’s struggles and snarls intensified at the sight of him, making Ryathane take a moment’s pause as he readjusted his aim. Satisfied his arrow would bring a quick kill, his fingers slackened on the string, and he instinctively exhaled.

“What in the--?!” He startled back as the wolf’s form shifted and he loosed the arrow, his movement throwing off his aim. The wood and metal whizzed through the mesh just above the shifting figure’s head. It caught on the other side and sunk with a loud, unnerving thock in the rigged tree as fabric formed and fluttered around the new figure’s body, wrapping it in an instant and falling still in the form of an earthy dress.

He lowered the bow slightly, gawking at the woman now suspended in the place of the wolf as she laced her fingers through the net.

He expertly wiped the shock from his face as she looked to him. Despite his calm façade, his heart thundered in his chest and senses worked overtime as she called out to him in a strange, elegant accent he couldn’t quite place.

His gaze hardened and he reached to his quiver, the possibilities of what he had caught running instantaneously through his mind. The moon wasn’t quite right yet for werewolves, was it? A shifter, then? Forest spirit? Demon? The list could go on, each deadlier than the last.

He quickly nocked another arrow, this time for safety’s sake, and aimed it at the woman partially hidden in the shadow of the trees.

He took a determined step toward the net, keeping his body angled sideways and bow straight. He looked at her, his heterochromatic gaze meeting hers, picking out a mix of disgust and fear swimming in her bright eyes.

“Who are you?” he growled, his grip on the bow firm, yet ready to release in an instant if the woman tried anything. “Rather, what are you? Lie to me, and it’ll be the last thing you do.” In emphasis, he raised the bow so the arrow came level with her chest, praying that, whatever she was, she couldn’t break through the trap. Just in case, he took a half step back, his feet crossing as he partially circled the net, searching for any sign of a weapon or further magic.

As the arrow thudded heavily into the trunk of the tree from which she was hanging, Aeylisia felt her heart stutter in alarm with the proximity in which she had just been from death. Becoming almost as still as a statue, she quickly ran her violet colored gaze from the man's face down to the second arrow he pulled smoothly to his bow and then back to his eyes, trying not to let her surprise show on her face as she finally registered the distinctive color variation in his irises. The emotion was pushed to the back of her mind however as the arrowhead was aimed at her chest, his expression hardening his eyes into a Ruby and Sapphire.

"Who are you? Rather, what are you? Lie to me, and it’ll be the last thing you do."

There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he would kill her if she lied to him, though a very small part of her thoughts couldn't help but question the validity of his statement. How could he know if she was telling him the truth or not? But the weariness in her body, the minute trembling in her fingers drowned out that small voice is she bit down on the inside of her lower lip, considering the very limited options that she had left to her. The real question was: how much should she tell him?

"I am called Aeylisia..." she finally admitted with a heavy tone coloring her voice, hating being at the mercy of a human. But she rained in the temptation to snarl at him through her elvin lips The way she had done as a wolf, finding that she had to keep reminding herself that performing any spells strong enough to kill him, to free herself, would probably end up taking away the last of her strength and kill her instead. That didn't stop the next words from feeling like acid against her tongue. "I am one of the race your kind call elves.”

Shock flooded through Ryathane as the woman stated her race, though only his chin raised fractionally in recognition of the emotion.

“That… that’s impossible,” he muttered, his voice irritatingly quieter than he had intended. “Elves are just fairy tales.”

She has to be lying, he thought. His head tilted slightly toward the pouch at his waist, where the nearly-forgotten wanted poster still took up space. He took a short moment to take in every bit of the woman’s body language, from her slightly trembling fingers to the disdain he had heard in her lilting voice. His gaze locked with hers, a hint of weariness swimming in their violet depths. But who would lie about being something with a bounty on their head?

He lessened the tension exhorted on his bowstring, his eyes narrowing as he looked again to her pointed ears, and her face with its lean curves beautiful even in shadow.

But now, the question became what to do with her.

In the span of an instant, he measured his options. He could always release her, but if the king would hold to the promise of a reward... and then there was the hostility she had shown. Would she kill him the first chance she got? No, release was out of the question. He could leave her there and check the other net that had sprung, but that would risk her escape or someone else discovering her. He could bind her and drag her along with, but then, if elves were as powerful as the stories said, she could still potentially--

As if summoned by the thought of the other trap, his thoughts cut short as a low growl somewhere between animal and instrument filled the trees. He inhaled through his nose at the sound of a manticore lurking somewhere nearby. Hoping the weariness he had seen in the woman’s eyes was not a trick, Ryathane made a split-second decision he prayed would not come back to bite him. He raised his bow, this time to the forest as he searched for the manticore, and backed up slowly to where he had hidden the tie of the trap.

“If you try anything or run,” he hissed, trying to pinpoint the origin of the sound as another of the strange growls seemed to echo from all around, this time closer, “you’ll have an arrow in your back before you can say Bob’s your uncle.”

As quickly as he could, Ryathane released the bow without firing the arrow and undid the expertly tied knot.

As he redrew the bow, the net--and woman--fell to the ground as another growl sounded ever closer.

Watching the young man's face silently as the light in his eyes went from shock to incredulity, Aeylisia tried not to sigh with The irritation that she felt spark to life within her. How could he not believe the evidence that was in front of his eyes? But then she caught herself, smothering the anger before it could be stoked into a real flame. She should be grateful that he didn't fully Believe what she was. What had he called it... A fairy tale? Well, she was going to let him believe fanciful stories for as long as she could. Perhaps in doing so, she would be set free... But even as she came to this conclusion, she could already see acceptance beginning to color his expression. Unable to hold back another sigh that threatened, Aeylisia let The soft sound escape through her lips as she slumped back against the net wearily, allowing her hands to slip from the rope and down into her lap with resignation.

That was about the time that the manticore howled.

Back stiffening with alarm, Aeylisia turned her gaze towards the woods, staring into the shadows as she attempted to spot the creature before it could spot her, a tasty meal conveniently wrapped up and unable to get away. She wasn't entirely sure if the human could use the bow he wielded, she wasn't about to bet her life on that knowledge, but if he ended up turning tail and running, she wouldn't stand a chance of escaping. Whether that was from the approaching manticore or the net, it all came down to the same thing. Before she could entirely wrap her head around this idea and make a fresh attempt at begging for her release, The man was warning her not to run, promising an arrow in her back should she try. She could feel the incredulous laughter bubbling up in her throat, just on the point of escaping her mouth, when the net suddenly dropped to the ground, taking her with it to land with a heavy thump, effectively knocking the sarcastic remark about her running being impossible while imprisoned within his trap out of her. For a moment, the elf lay stunned, cheek pressed against the ground, before her mind caught up with what had happened and she released a gasp. He had released her from the tree, The net falling loose around her. But why?

"Wait," she breathed, struggling to get to her hands and knees as she looked up towards the human. "You cannot be thinking of facing the creature single-handedly? I fear that I will perish along with you should you fail. I was not attempting to deceive you with my weariness, I am truly weakened at this time. Please, let me help you," She pleaded, flinching as the monster's cry sounded louder than before. Her throat felt dry at the idea of being left in such a vulnerable position. Her legs felt weak from her extended run as she stood shakily, hating to have to admit to her weakness to the man, but she had managed to come to a rough conclusion as she lay momentarily on the forest floor. They were both in danger, at risk to losing their lives from a hungry manticore, and they would either fail separately, or have a chance of succeeding should they work together. "I will not run, I do not have the stamina for that, but I have strength enough to be of use against the manticore. Let me help you. Please."

Ryathane tore his gaze from the forest long enough to glance to the elf when she did not immediately rise. When she finally did move, he split his attention between the dark forest and the elf as she spoke, watching for any sign that the woman might attack.
He raised an eyebrow at her unusual way of speaking. He snorted as her words formed the plea to let her help, not once, but twice as she stood shakily.
“You can scarcely stand on your own two legs,” he scoffed. His muscles tensed at the faint rustle of leaves and bushes as something large skulked through them faintly reached his ears. “Do what you want,” he hissed out in a hushed voice. “Just don’t get in my way.”
He lowered his chin slightly and tilted his head, listening as the nearly imperceptible sound of the beast came from his eight o' clock.
Another quick rustle then a growl, this time closer to the elf.
Before he could turn, the manticore leapt from the bushes, the claws of its paws stretched in front of it.
Two scorpion tails swung behind it, their venomous stingers posed to strike. Thick, matted fur covered its lion-like body until it turned into a mass of large scales leading into its tails, a portion of one of Ryathane's nets tangled on its back. Its furry, ugly face looked somewhere between lion and human, its mouth wider and more human-like.
In a single motion, Ryathane fired his arrow, reached out to pull Aeylisia away if she did not move fast enough, and jumped nimbly out of the creature’s reach.
It let out an angered snarl as the arrow snagged in the thick fur around its chest. The creature skidded over the ground and bore its mouthful of dangerous-looking fangs at Ryathane.
In the blink of an eye, Ryathane nocked two arrows and dodged aide as one of the manticore’s venom-tipped tails shot toward him. As the second struck at Aeylisia, the stinger of the first embedded into the ground where Ryathane had stood a fraction of a second earlier.
Unwilling to hope the first arrow had penetrated the beast’s fur enough to get the poison into the manticore’s bloodstream, his fingers slackened on the bow. Before he could release the arrows, the manticore’s first tail swung at his legs. He tried to jump back and over it as he fired his arrows at the beast’s throat, but the manticore raised its tail at the last second and caught his legs midair, sending him crashing hard to the ground. His bow fell from his hand, and a couple of his arrows slid from his quiver.
The manticore howled out an earsplitting cry when the arrows still managed to dig into his neck deeper than the first, their shafts sticking out of its thick hide.
Praying the poison would take effect, Ryathane rolled out of the way as its tail again came down on him. He snarled as the stinger pinned part of his coat unnervingly close to its true mark, jerking his roll to an abrupt stop.
The manticore’s eyes glowed a furious lamplight orange in the night as it hungrily eyed the one whose scent it had followed.
Ryathane hurried to his knees and yanked as hard as he could at the caught fabric as the manticore readied to strike with its other tail.

Though her mouth had opened to angrily refute his statement about her being week, Aeylisia slowly closed it again as she too was alerted to the sound of something heavy moving through the bushes nearby. Stiffening, the elf half turned as the leaves directly behind her rustled, a look of horror blossoming on to her face in an instant as she saw the powerfully built body of the manticore exploding out of the bushes, claws extended towards her. But just as she braced herself for the piercing sensation of fangs and sharpened nails, a hand closed around her upper arm and yanked her to one side with an abrupt suddenness. Stumbling with the unexpected tug, she just managed to catch herself before she fell, realizing with some surprise that it had been The human that had pulled her out of harms way. Before she could quite grasp the concept that One of such a violent race would rescue her from death, the tail of the manticore was following up behind the claws and she found herself diving out of the way, A tugging sensation along the sides of her skirts attesting to how narrowly she had dodged the poisonous sting. Cursing under her breath, the elf reached for a nearby stick, grasping it in her hand and letting her magic flow into it, The spell a muted murmur under her breath.

The short sword was not a pretty weapon, nor was it particularly large or unusually strong, but the transformed piece of wood was a comforting weight in her hand as Aeylisia rolled to her feet and whirled to Face the ugly beast. She saw the young man fire a couple of arrows at the creature's shaggy chest, the outraged cry it loosed vibrating in her bones, before she was focused on the tail once again. It shot out at her with surprising speed, hissing through the air, and she twisted to avoid the deadly point, swinging her blade at the appendage. Her weapon barely broke the skin, But it was enough that the tail retracted swiftly. As it was pulled away, she caught sight of the human laying on his back near the beast's side, Watching as he rolled onto his knees and began to tug furiously at the sleeve of his shirt, which she now saw was caught by the manticore's other tail. She wasn't entirely sure why she reacted in such a fashion, perhaps it was because the man had saved her life at the initial attack, But she found herself leaping forward with a cry on her lips, Thrusting the point of the sword into the creature's side with all of her strength. She felt it as the sword shattered under the impact, the jolt traveling up her arm, but she had succeeded in distracting the monster, The splintering of her sword was a worthy consequence. Shrieking with anger and pain, The manticore slashed out at Aeylisia as she rolled away, The sharp points of the claws dragging painfully against her right calf before she could get out of range. Crying out with the sudden flair of pain, The elf landed heavily on her hands and knees, sharp twigs and rocks biting into the skin of her palms.

As she sat panting towards the dirt, pain searing down her calf and fear prickling at her back, Aeylisia suddenly became aware of the shape of something hard beneath the fingers of her left hand, the sensation somehow comforting. Blinking her violet eyes to focus them, she felt a thrill of hope shoot through her limbs as she looked at the familiar curve of the bow her fingers rested against. Without a second thought, she snatched up the weapon in her hands, Half twisting her body up into a kneeling position as she drew an arrow to her cheek. Holding her breath, she let the shaft fly, The sharpened point making a sickening crunch as it hit the manticore beneath it's left eye... And then the animal was right on top of her, heavy body smashing into her frame and sending her tumbling back against the ground, head hitting the forest floor sharply. She was vaguely aware of it stumbling past her, heavy paws just missing her face, but her head was spinning so that she couldn't quite focus on Rolling out of the way.

In the distraction the elf’s attack granted, Ryathane gritted his teeth as he gave the caught tail of his coat a final tug. His coat tore free, adding yet another rip to the worn clothing item. As the manticore pulled its tail from the ground, the paralyzing poison on its stinger glinted menacingly in a thin ray of moonlight that momentarily shone through a gap in the canopy.
Ryathane jumped to his feet to the chorus of Aeylisia’s pained cry.
With the creature’s back to him, Ryathane caught sight of the remnants of one of his so-called ‘enchanted’ nets clinging to the beast’s flanks.
He glanced over to Aeylisa as she drew his bow, blood slowly beginning to soak a portion of her skirts around a gash formed by the creature’s sharp claws.
Unsure whether his action came more from the instinct to protect his temporary hunting partner, or from the fear of losing the manticore (and in turn his pay), when the beast charged and Aeylisa released the bow, Ryathane drew his short sword and dashed toward the manticore, the poison-tipped arrow sinking into its skull. Weaving nimbly around its flailing tails as it let out an ear-piercing cry of agony, he gripped the fragmented net and wrapped it around the tails as well as he could, tying them together. He used the momentum of the flailing appendages to catapult himself onto the creature’s back as, blinded with pain and rage, it collided with Aeylisia.
He gripped the creature’s matted fur with one hand to hang on, and swiftly drew his short sword with the other. He plunged the thin, sharp tip into the base of the beast’s neck with as much strength as he could, the blade bending slightly as it forced its way through the manticore’s thick hide and muscles. Using the weapon as an anchor, he threw his weight to the side, trying to force the manticore’s remaining path from Aeylisia.
He inhaled through his nose as the beast fell sideways away from the elf, the creature’s fowl, feral stench filling his nostrils. Releasing the handle, he pushed from the manticore’s body as it fell to the ground, the earth vibrating slightly beneath its deadweight. Half thrown and half pushing himself from the manticore, he landed unceremoniously on the ground with a soft “Oof!” a few feet from its back. He rolled quickly out of its reach as it struck out weakly at him with its bound tails, and its claws reached toward Aeylisia only to fall short as the poison spreading through its head wound made its movements sluggish.
With a final whine and violent spasm, the tails fell to the ground like a dying wave, and its body went limp.
Ryathane drew the dagger from one of his boots as he got to his feet. He watched the creature for a short moment, making certain the thing was dead before straightening, his thoughts turning from the beast to Aeylisia. Almost fearful of what he would find in the elf’s place, he cautiously made his way around the manticore, giving it a wide berth in case its body convulsed again or it still had some faint spark of life left.
At the sight of her on the ground, skirts soaked in crimson, he approached cautiously. Injured animals and humans alike were nothing to mess with when on good terms, rendering Ryathane unsure whether or not he should fear the ire of this wounded elf. He took a deep breath. Not wanting her to think he meant her harm, he hesitantly sheathed the dagger in the scabbard hidden in his tall boot, the weapon disappearing entirely inside.
“I’d ask if you’re okay,” he began, his voice almost inappropriately light. Though he tried to keep his expression unreadable, a flicker of concern flashed through his eyes. “But I think the better question is, are you alive?” He took a couple more slow steps toward the elf, trying to get a better look at her condition without stepping into her range of attack in case she decided to lash out. He held his hands slightly to his side, showing his apparent lack of weapons, yet remained ever vigilant and ready to defend himself.

When was it that she had fallen onto the forest floor? ...Groggily, Aeylisia blinked her eyes several times, aware that she lay partially on her back and partially twisted onto one side, one cheek pressed into the Forest floor, her hair spilling over her face and fluttering in the exhalation of her breath. Pain suddenly throbbed in her head and along her right calf, her thoughts struggling to catch up with her position. As it was, she didn't immediately recognize that someone was speaking to her until she registered movement out of the corner of her eye. Then her body instinctively stiffened, her mind quickly running over the events of the last few minutes, and she realized that the voice speaking belonged to the human male, Looking up through her hair to see his face tight with an emotion she couldn't quite place a word to.

Was she all right. That was the first question that clicked into place. Her body immediately protested that, no, she was not all right. Her calf Felt as if it had been torn into ribbons, her head throbbed with each pulse of her heart where it had collided with the ground, and fatigue gripped her body from the strength and magic she had called on that day. But she found herself stubbornly refusing to admit her weakness, even now with the blood staining her skirts. Fighting to keep the groan in her chest as she pushed herself up onto one of her elbows, Aeylisia pulled The curls back from where they had fallen over her face, clicking her tongue with annoyance as they caught in the intricate circlet still woven within the tresses.

"No, I'm not dead," she found herself growling, her tiredness, the pain in her leg and head making her feel particularly waspish. "Is the beast dead though?" She then thought to ask, casting her gaze quickly towards the crumpled feline figure and scrutinizing the splayed limbs for any sign of movement.

Ryathane held his breath when the elf did not move, only the gentle flutter of her hair around her mouth displaying proof of life.

With the manticore dead, the sounds of the forest floated into the clearing, hesitant at first until the crickets and other insects regained their confidence and ventured closer.

When she finally moved, Ryathane released a relieved breath he had not realized he had held. He straightened slightly, the elf’s pain and fatigue visible in her delay and sluggish movements as she propped herself up, then spoke.

He snorted at her question. “It’d better be.” He looked to the beast’s carcass--his ticket to food and other supplies--then back to the wounded elf. With a low, frustrated growl, he ran a gloved hand down his face. Ignoring the foul scent of the manticore’s fur that the fabric had absorbed, he let it linger over his mouth. She needed help, but he couldn’t leave the manticore out in the open like that... His eyes lingered on the manticore, then he looked back to Aeylisia, his often neglected conscience nagging at him with a vengeance.

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath, then let his hand fall away. But I’m getting my sword back, he finished silently. He quickly strode to the manticore, pausing as he neared it to make sure it wouldn’t rear with sudden life.

Deeming it safe, he wrenched his short sword from the creature’s flesh and stepped back toward Aeylisia as he cleaned the blade on his coat. “I have some bandages back at my camp.”

He quickly sheathed the weapon and went to retrieve his bow laying on the ground. He scowled at the limp string still connecting two halves of the bow, the wood snapped by the manticore’s giant paws.

Glad to have the frustration to display, he cautiously approached the elf and unwrapped the light fabric of his black hooded scarf from around his neck.

“Unless you want to bleed to death through your leg,” he began, crouching down as close beside her as he dared, “tie this around the wound for now.” He nodded to the blood-stained garment and offered the scarf to her.

'Ah, yes... How silly of me not to have noticed,, Aeylisia found herself thinking wryly as her amethyst colored eyes trailed over the feline form, finally noticing the hilt of a sword and part of a blade amid the tangled fur on the beast's neck, feeling somewhat foolish for not having noticed the weapon right away. To cover up her chagrin, she brushed the pads of her fingers on one hand gently over the tender spot throbbing in a spot just behind her left ear, Almost immediately wincing as her fingers came in contact with a lump that was forming. Luckily, when she pulled her hand away and inspected the tips of her fingers, there wasn't any evidence of blood. Her leg, on the other hand, was another matter. Now that she was looking, the crimson stain that had spread over her skirts gave her pause. Hesitating for a moment with her fingers outstretched, Aeylisia glanced over at the human as he released a frustrated sound, meeting his gaze as he stared at her. She didn't have any idea of what was going on inside his head, but she had a fairly good guess that it had something to do with her

"Fine," he huffed, Dropping his hand from his face and whirling around to stride over to the fallen beast, wrenching his sword from the creature's neck. As he turned back around and began walking in her direction, Aeylisia Felt her muscles tighten instinctively, prepared to roll out of the way from the blow she could feel coming. What she ended up doing was freezing in surprise when the man spoke of bandages back at his camp however and she could feel a confused expression blossom on to her face. Weren't humans hunting her kind?

Dumbfounded, her violet colored eyes watched as the human stepped beyond her, Replacing his sword within its sheath and crouching down to retrieve his broken bow from where she had evidently dropped it when the manticore had crashed into her. Turning back around to face her, a scowl turning down the corners of his mouth, The young man stepped in her direction and crouched once again, keeping distance between them. He had removed the scarf from around his neck, Studying her for a moment before holding it out and instructing her to tie the fabric around her wound.

By this point, her head was spinning. With the combination of exhaustion, pain, and now confusion, Aeylisia felt as if her world had been turned upside down. Studying the face of the stranger before her, she cautiously reached out and took the black scarf, glancing between it and his face before her voice finally came out in a whisper. "... Why? Why are you doing this?"

Ryathane stood as soon as Aeylisia took the scarf, his neck feeling oddly exposed without it. He tried to make his movements around her as slow and nonthreatening as possible. With the mix of emotions he already saw on her face, the last thing he wanted was to startle her; people and animals alike could be shockingly dangerous when hurt and on guard.
“Why?” he heard her whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
The wanted poster crept into the front of his mind, before his conscience nagged at him again. She was a beautiful woman--an elven woman, but female nonetheless--in distress. He could think about turning her in later.
He snorted, both at his thoughts and her question. “You broke my bow.” He held out the cracked bow, letting the pieces dangle a moment to get his point across, before dropping it limply to the ground. He crossed his arms and looked down at her. “I can’t get a new one from you if you’re dead, now, can I?” He nudged the mangled weapon with the toe of his boot as he continued. “Good ones aren’t cheap, you know.”
Refusing to admit she had saved his life, he turned to pick up the couple poison-tipped arrows still laying on the ground. He glanced back at Aeylisia as he replaced them in his quiver. “Get that bound.” He returned to stand beside her. “I haven’t got all night, you know.”
He looked to the deceased manticore again, and gave a gruff sigh. It’d better still be here when I get back, he thought darkly, then offered the elf a wary hand up, ready to draw it back, just in case.

Keeping her alive just so that she could repay him a broken bow felt like a weak excuse, but Aeylisia was willing to let it go. Humans had done stranger things before. Distracted Lee watching the young man as he collected a few of the stray arrows that had fallen to the ground, she found herself scowling as he glanced back over his shoulder and once again reminded her to bind her injury, both from embarrassment and annoyance.

Biting back the angry words she instinctively wanted to hurl at him, The Elvin woman roughly grabbed fistfuls of her skirts, yanking them up and exposing her injured leg. It was not a pretty sight. Four ragged slashes had been Cut into the skin of her calf, starting just to the side of her knee and spreading in a diagonal across the back of the rounded muscle. Spending the least amount of time examining the injury, Aeylisia expertly began to wound the hooded scarf tightly around her leg, releasing an involuntary hiss that she sucked through her teeth. Fidgeting with the material until it was tight enough to stop the immediate bleeding yet not so much as to cut off circulation, she had just started to contemplate tearing off the ruined section of her skirts to keep them from dragging against her makeshift bandage win a hand unexpectedly entered her line of vision. Fighting down the instinctive urge to flinch away, the elf quickly lifted her eyes to give the young man an apprehensive look before she sighed and reached out her hand, taking the offered hand in hers and using it to help her to get up onto her feet.

She very nearly gave away the truth of just how much pain she was in when her weight settled onto her leg, the pain very nearly taking her breath away. But Aeylisia managed to turn the involuntary moan that escaped her lips into a sound of contemplation Justin time, or so she hoped. "Uhh... Thank you... Sir," she murmured, not realizing that she had kept a tight grip on the stranger's hand. "... I'm sorry. I never did ask for your name." She could have kicked herself. She couldn't care less what this human's name was, was almost certain that he was here hunting her people, but manners were too deeply ingrained into her personality for her to forgo them now, even if it was more grasping straws then a genuine curiosity.

Or maybe, a small part of her reason, you're feeling grateful that he saved your life...

She wanted to snort. True, her anger had begun to cool in the battle against the manticore, but that didn't mean that she was going to disregard the wanted posters and the chopping down and burning of her beloved trees. It didn't mean that she was going to like this human... Feel grateful that she wasn't a cooling corpse getting eaten by a monster, yes, but that didn't mean that she had to like him.

Once the elf took his hand, Ryathane pulled, helping as well as he could to get her to her feet without causing more damage. He kept his eyes on her leg, wondering if she would be capable of standing on it or not.
She started to moan when she put her weight on it. He raised an eyebrow when she clearly tried to change its tone, his ears all too familiar with the sound of pain and the attempts to cover it up. Her grip on his hand tightened, the pressure only strengthening his belief that her leg bothered her.
At least it hasn’t buckled under her, he thought. That’s always a good sign.
”Uh… Thank you… Sir,” the elf muttered.
Ryathane gave a single dark, snorted chuckle, in part at being called 'sir.' “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered under his breath as he cast a quick glance around the forest. “We aren’t exactly out of harms way.”
The songs of crickets and rustling of smaller animals had already intensified, the manticore’s presence all but forgotten by the surrounding wildlife. He glanced back at the manticore as if to reassure himself it had not, in fact, all been a dream, that the presence of the elf’s hand in his was not a mere, albeit convincing, fabrication of his slumbering mind.
I suppose I could have fallen asleep in the tree… he thought doubtfully, before the elf asked him his name.
His eyes narrowed, and he looked at her for a long moment, debating on what name to give her. He frowned at his own hesitation.
“People around here know me as Thatcher,” he answered stiffly. “Shade Thatcher. My... camp isn’t too far from here.” He drew her arm over his shoulders, ignoring whatever reaction she had, and returned her tight grip. “Lean your weight on me. You don’t want to put too much on that leg--at least until it’s properly bandaged.”
A wolf howled further off in the distance. Ryathane scowled as a new thought occurred to him; they were about to leave a perfectly good, fresh corpse in the middle of a carnivore-infested forest. It may as well have had a giant sign over it reading, “FREE FOOD.”
“Isn’t that just fantastic?” he growled under his breath, his gaze off in the direction the wolf cry had come. He turned his full attention back to Aeylisia. “C’mon. The sooner we get you situated, the sooner I can come back. My week’s rations relies on delivering that beast’s head.”
Why did you tell her that? a voice screamed in the back of his mind.
He scowled again, and, almost in defiance of the opinions waging an unseen war against each other, took a couple slow steps forward, waiting to make sure the elf would be capable of walking and did not pull her arm from him. Though, whether because he didn’t want to lose the possibility of a secondary meal ticket, or because of gratitude and chivalry--especially since she was wounded because she helped him bring down the beast--he could not quite say. Or, perhaps, he just could not resist helping such a stunning woman... even if the stories said her kind would gladly gut him in his sleep.
Ryathane’s lips quirked slightly in a nearly imperceptible smirk. I’d like to see her try.