They had not set up camp far from the town, a little ways down the dirt path and off to the side. A few hastily set up lean to tents and a dead fire at the centre of a small alcove of frosty bracken cocooned by tall leafless oaks. The remains of their hunt last night were left scattered around the fire, all of the flesh picked clean from the bones. Faelin had expected this trip to take far longer, to hunt down the target, to capture him and return him. Which might have been why Faelin had forgotten probably the most important task of tying his prize up. A fact he had to face when the dead weight he was easily carrying into the camp began to squirm and fight against his hold.

“Gods damn it..” He muttered under his breath, lips pulled back into a grimace as he tried to contain Caoilfhionn, hold him hard against his shoulder but the little creature had a bit more fight than he had anticipated. With one particularly good twist of his torso, the mage had slipped seamlessly from Faelin’s grip and dropped to the hard, frozen ground with a thud.

His men reared up around the tangled man, preparing to recapture him and lace the magic imbued rope around his limbs. Faelin’s hand danced at the silver circled collar at his waist, latched onto the weapons belt. If he could just get this on the man then it would be so much easier, no ice shards to be seen, Faelin only had to combat the physical strength.

When Caoilfhionn wriggled his way out of the cloak and staggered to his feet, Faelin braced himself, his knees slightly bent and planted into the dirt, his arms tensed and primed to grab. His face wasn’t one of indifference anymore, it was harsh, his eyebrows cast a dark shadow over his face and the muted blue of his eyes honed in on the mage. His other hand flicked out a blackened bayonet-style knife and held it so the blade ran down his forearm.

Then his least experienced recruit lunged and slapped his palm down on the mage’s forearm and gripped tightly, preparing to yank the man off of balance so that the others could secure him. However, that was probably the worst thing to do at that exact moment, proven by the ragged yelp that left the young man as Caoilfhionn crunched down on his arm and the bone splintered. Another agonised yell was torn from the soldier’s throat as he desperately tried to pull away from the mage. It was only making things worse by the looks of it, the man only bit down harder. Faelin’s men began to clamour and reach for more lethal weapons, taking aim.

“Alive!” Faelin snarled, snapping his head around to look at the small band of men, his eyes burning with annoyance and frustration. “Hold.” His second command was said with slightly less fury as Faelin looked back towards Caoilfhionn. The man was feral, his eyes pin pricked and bloodied fangs bared. Why couldn’t he have become a baker? Or even a fisherman? His life would be so much nicer.

Faelin kept himself planted, hand still hovering over the silver band at his side. Then the mage seemed to return to some form of consciousness, just as the rain began to fall from the sky and dampen his linen shirt. He hated when his targets talked back, threatened with their wrath, demanded to know how he slept at night. In the beginning, it was disheartening and he would indeed struggle to sleep at night, but that was many years ago.

However, what did that him off guard was that sharp grin that suddenly appeared on Caoilfhionn’s face. It made Faelin’s eyes widen in a short burst of surprise and his form froze as he tried to pick what he was going to do next. Again, he did not expect this little pest to spin on his heel and sprint into the forest. Footfalls transforming into softer sounds, one he recognised almost a little too quickly.

“For fucks sake!” Faelin yelled, his spine straightening up and he immediately whirled around and pointed his dagger at the nearest man, his lip curled. “You. Take Treech and go to the docks. You do not move from that spot, you do note take your eyes off of those boats until I come to collect you. Understood?” He barked his orders to which the two men nodded their heads and began scampering away.

“The rest of you, why are you still standing there. Get after him!” Faelin waves his dagger around, exasperated, gesturing to where the mage had just run off to. There was no way these men were going to catch him, but he couldn’t hunt that thing down unless he was alone. The two men at the docks were a safety net, in case he lost the scent, which he doubted.

The remaining men took off, hollering to each other about where the mage had gone. Faelin was left alone in the middle of the camp. Finally his shoulders slumped and he pressed his free hand to his face with a loud groan. It was never easy, but he always prayed it would be.

Faelin tucked his dagger away into its sheath and began heading out to the side, he could already smell that Caoilfhionn had veered off to the left. So he would cut his catch up time in half by intercepting him. He pushed the heels of his boots into the crisp earth and sprang forwards, sprinting too quickly to be entirely normal and human. But at this rate, the mage was going to either make it overseas or be captured and never seen again, so did it really matter if the man had suspicions about his heritage? Not really. Even then, Faelin could claim he had taken a potion from the resident alchemist at the castle that made him run faster, stranger things had been done.

As he thundered through the trees, that sweet scent continued drifting towards him tainted with the metallic remains of his soldier’s blood. It took a minute or two but then it became stronger and he could see the suggestion of movement in the distance.

It was a wicked thought but it was a decent ploy. Faelin knew he would curse himself later for being able to conjure up the idea but as he approached the pale form, he couldn’t stop his lips from moving.

“Caoilfhionn! If you do not want Grammy Lou and those children to be strung up before the King in your place, you better halt this idiotic attempt at an escape!” Faelin yelled, his hoarse voice being forced to be loud, it was actually a little painful. But he made sure to infuse his threat with cruel intentions, even adding some mockery in the way he said that woman's name. If that didn’t work, it was embarrassing and he would have to completely catch up and take down this mage. Both of which he most definitely wanted to avoid.

The metallic tang in the air grew stronger, a fresher spray of blood had been splattered onto the forest floor and he could almost taste it. He waited in anticipation for the response to his threat, his feet still pounding into the earth as he sprinted forwards. Completely empty, but the threat was his best bet. The man seemed to be emotionally charged, connected to the people of this village and Faelin was wagering that it would make him crack.

His breathing was pushing plumes of condensation from his lips, like smoke from his lungs as his eyes darted around the trees. The blurry figure had melted away, he couldn’t spot the flick of legs nor the bob of a head in the distance, but the scent was strong. Stronger than it had been this entire time, like the mage was right on top of him. There was another taste on the breeze, acrid and bitter, like acid on his tongue. He knew that smell well, but he realised his predicament a hair too late as the wooden coffin sprang forwards and encased him.

A frustrated growl came from the back of his throat as Faelin almost went head first into the branches, his arms out at his sides, prepared to lunge at the first hint of movement. This was far too difficult for his liking.

There was a heartbeat of silence, then the smooth lilting of the mage’s voice weaved its way through the branches to meet his ears. Well, clearly he had not been as subtle as he had thought as he out right voiced his suspicions on his bloodline.

An unamused chuckle came from Faelin as he straightened his spine and tipped his head back to look at the roof of his cage. His chest was still rising and falling with heavy effort, the foggy breath still leaking from his nose and mouth.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, mage.” Faelin sneered, eyes darting over the entangled branches to try and spot a weak point, slowly turning in a circle. He didn’t like this. It was too close, there was that acrid smell all around him mixing with the sweet wafts of scent from the mage. Overwhelmingly suffocating.

“If I do not return with you by noon, my men are stationed in the village square,” He began carefully, letting his words come at a casual pace. “They have orders to drag that kind old woman from her beloved theatre house and drag her through the streets.” The words felt like lead on his tongue. “I ordered them to execute her in the square, before the townspeople, in the name of King Herald for harbouring a dangerous enemy.” Faelin’s casual tone had slowly slipped into something with a dark menace under it, a hiss as he tried to provoke Caoilfhionn.

“Cease your disgusting tricks and surrender to me, now, and she will be safe,” He spat, noticing a particularly small triangle of light on the left of his periphery. “Or stay here to watch me succumb to your wicked magic and return to your friend to find her bleeding like a stuck pig on the cobbles. You certainly wouldn’t want that now, would you, Caoilfhionn?” Faelin knew his men were nowhere near the old woman, but he needed to make this trick work or buy himself enough time to hammer at that weak spot he had just noticed.

“Shame, I never did get to thank her for that tea.” Faelin let his words hang in the air before adding this particular little tidbit, saying it with obviously false disappointment. The sun would be approaching its peak soon, it would take him time to return to the village. Hopefully this irritating quarry didn't think he had enough time to kill Faelin and make it back to save that woman. Either way, Faelin tensed his muscles and braced himself in preperation for barging towards the weak point, but he kept himself steady as to not give away his intentions just yet. Not with the threat of that smell in the air.

Faelin kept himself composed as he listened to the ominous voice from above. Today just wasn’t his day. The little bastard had seen his face and put his heritage out in the open, not only that, he had trapped him in a ball of poison. Gods, he wished he was a blacksmith. Then came the abrupt opening of flowers all around him, it made the tall man baulk and stumble over his own feet in the small space. His breathing came out as a hiss as the acrid smell increased in intensity.

Caoilfhionn was still ranting on about his goddess and frankly Faelin could care less about the omnipotent power of this moon goddess. What mattered to him was not being hung, drawn and quartered upon his return to King Herald. Beneath the scent of wolfsbane, the mage’s unique odour was fading away now, the man was leaving him in this ball of horrors.

With a frustrated snarl, Faelin wrapped his coat around his right arm and shoulder, face contorted in effort and focus. He began to ram himself at the tiny weak point he had spotted beforehand. The moment he made contact, the branches shuddered, but for now he felt no pain, the thick fabric protecting his skin. Unfortunately, flowers had pollen and with each hit he made, more and more of it rained down from above him. Even as he was breaking a hole into the wood, his eyes were weeping and his lungs felt like he was trying to breathe glass.

–

It had taken him a while to finally come bursting out the side of the ball, only to almost run directly into his soldiers who were looking at him dumbfounded. Faelin’s skin was pricked with redness, his eyes burned red and leaked tears. His already gruff voice was impossibly more painful to listen to as he began to snap his orders at them to get to the docks.

If they let this mage get away, they would all be ruined.

–

The sun was high in the sky now, moving past midday and it made Faelin grumble in frustration as he sat in the shadows of a nearby alley. He had pulled the cloak tight around himself and tucked his face away into the fur to avoid any recognition, but he doubted it would be successful. His men were stalking through the docks, stopping every person who was hiding their face and ripping their hats off to look at their faces.

Faelin kept to himself, trying to soothe the agonising pain in his chest. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken him too long to get out of the wooden cage. If he had spent too long in there, he would have been in much worse shape. Instead, he now tried to focus on picking up that damn scent again but he couldn’t pick it out. Caoilfhionn had said he was leaving the next morning, but he doubted the man would wait until then after their morning fiasco. Faelin had screwed up this job in the most magnificent way.

---

His arm still ached in the makeshift sling that his companion had managed to secure his arm in. It was most certainly broken but there was little time to dwell on that fact when their target was somewhere in these docks. Faelin had returned and ordered them to keep searching, but with his bad arm, Treech was ordered to walk up and down the alleyways alone.

He pulled a small vial from his pocket and downed the contents eagerly. It was a pain relief mixture that they always carried a healthy supply of, it was the only thing keeping him sane as he felt the crepitus of his broken bone shift in his forearm. As he pushed the empty glass vial back into his pocket, there was a soft click of a stone rolling over the cobbles. It made him look up, darting his eyes around as his good hand moved to take hold of the collar.

He was just about to walk towards a crossroads of the alleys when a figure darted out in front of him, they were facing away from him and down the alley in front. His eyes followed his line of sight and saw Faelin's back where he was stationed near the docks. Carefully, Treech edged closer to the man, Caoilfhionn that was what Faelin had called him.

Once he deemed himself close enough, Treech dug his heels into the cobbles and lurched forwards with a grunt of effort. He only had one good arm, so he aimed to secure the crook of his elbow around the man's neck and drag him to the ground. Hopefully the commotion would draw in his fellow guards so that they could seal the deal.

The bleakness of the sun cast over the docks, streaking the sky with grey clouds that threatened to bear down with torrents of rain. He didn’t want to be out here any longer, he longed for his quarters at the castle and the comfort it brought to his aching body. Alas, that was days travel away and if he returned without this mage then he doubted he would be allowed back into his quarters ever again. At the thought, Faelin’s nose wrinkled, what an irritating person he was trying to capture. The wolfsbane was still coursing through his body and it made him feel nauseous, his limbs tingled with numbness and his nose felt entirely useless. He could only smell the grotesque scent of the wolfsbane, it would take at least a week for him to recover completely.

It was at this moment, when he was consumed by his own thoughts, his subordinate was tackling the mage behind him. With his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, Faelin stared oblivious out at the docks, dwelling within his own mind rather than the present moment. He was rudely brought back to his body when a heavy force slammed into his back and something jolted through the haze scent of wolfsbane. His pupils blew wide as he met the cobbles face first, the weight of the mage on his back. There was a resounding thud as his body sprawled on the ground, the pain didn’t register in Faelin’s nervous system, he was being consumed by the scent that engulfed him.

In an instant, Faelin had pushed his palm into the ground and contorted his body around so that his back was pressed firmly against the cobblestone. His hands moved quicker than he had expected considering his condition as they encircled Caoilfhionn’s form with almost crushing force. His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of his arms as he fought to wrestle the man and keep him on the ground. Small grunts of effort were pushed from his lips, eyes narrowed and eyebrows so deeply furrowed they almost cast a shadow over his face.

If he could keep him down, limbs entangled with his own, then his men could finish the job. Faelin’s long legs flicked around to hook Caoilfhionn’s calves and force them down towards the ground. In seconds Faelin had twisted himself around from the impact and slithered his limbs around the mage to pin him to his own body. His arms moved to hook under the other man’s armpits and the crook of his elbow held Caoilfhionn in place, his back flush against the heaving chest of Faelin.

“Collar!” Faelin barked out, hissing air through his teeth as he fought the searing agony of his muscles, the wolfsbane doing a wonderful job of making any and all movement painful. The flexing of his muscles felt as though the flesh was being rendered from his bones with a dull blade. Behind him he could hear the bootfalls of his men as they came charging towards the alleyway. They were still far enough away that if Faelin failed to contain Caoilfhionn they would all be in trouble, if the spitting fury he was holding got loose he expected there would be hell to pay.

His pupils were still huge as he grunted again, shifting his grip on Caoilfhionn. He could hear the ragged breathing coming from the mage, feel the animalistic twitching of his body as he tried to free himself. Faelin hoped that the overwhelming size difference at such close quarters would suffice for a short time until his men got to them and slapped the collar around his neck.

Faelin’s body curled around the back of Caoilfhionn, looming over him by a significant amount as he huffed and puffed with effort. His own skin had a sheen of cold sweat, forced upon him by the poison in his body. As the second ticked by, Faelin began to wince and almost whimper at the scorching pain, his muscles trembling with the effort to keep the mage in his grasp.

Eventually, the pain became all consuming. His head felt like it was rising above his body to impossible heights, the feeling in his hands went from minimal to nothing at all and in that moment he had let his prey escape. Sensing the slowing energy, Caoilfhionn crunched down on his upper arm. The force would’ve been enough to crack bone if he wasn’t more than human. The blooming warmth of pain from the bite was nothing in comparison to the pulsing cold he felt throughout his entire body. Falling slack against the cobblestones, Faelin winced at the knock he took to the back of his head. There was a lilting voice trailing around his brain, cooing into his injured face with an amusement that bordered sick fascination.

The air felt like it was growing thick, it became hard to get sufficient oxygen down his throat and Faelin resorted to panting. His breathing was laboured, fast paced and shallow as he tried his damnedest to swallow down the air he so desperately wanted. In the distance of his cloudy mind he could hear the yelling of his men as they saw him hit the ground, panic riddling their words as they sprinted towards the alleyway where he and Treech were laying defeated.

The sky above made Caoilfhionn’s form look far more imposing, the angle and the lighting made the mage look ethereal and omnipotent. He had never had such a strong reaction to this dosage of wolfsbane, it was never this intense and all consuming. Faelin didn’t have time to dwell on the reason for this as Caoilfhionn had leaned back, putting pressure on his lower abdomen that made him grunt, feeling the sharp stone floor digging into his spine. His top lip was curled into a grimace of pain and his eyes winced closed, he didn’t see the blade coming nor did he smell what it was laced with before the cold steel was at his throat.

The words that tumbled from Caoilfhionn were pouring into his brain and tangling in strange ways. He was insulting him, trying to kill him, but there was an undercurrent to his words. Maybe the mage enjoyed inflicting pain, most magical creatures he had met before enjoyed it to some degree, this particular specimen seems to be at one extreme of the scale.

He had no bite nor bark left in him to retort what was being said to him, instead he stared with glassy eyes up at the other man. Lips parted and chest heaving for air, he just had to hold out and keep his attention until his men came barrelling into the cramped space. He could do that. Keep his attention.

The blade pressed firmly against his neck, catching on the taut tendons there and threatening to sever the vital ligaments with each ragged breath Faelin drew in. Then Caoilfhionn forced his hand down and Faelin felt the bite of the sharp steel cut into his flesh, beading up rivulets of blood from the sensitive area. He couldn’t help the groan of pain that slid from his throat, it was short lived as the slice became more brutal. Carving a portion of his neck open, it wasn’t a horrendously large wound but enough of a cut that it would take decent effort to heal if he didn’t want it to scar.

Before he had time to process the insults that were being tossed his way, he felt the slip of fingers in his hair, dancing across his scalp before they gripped forcibly and craned his head back aggressively. Pushing the side of his face into the dirt of the floor, squishing him into the stones before something warm invaded the fresh wound on his neck.

Faelin couldn’t move, he couldn’t raise his arms to stop this creature feeding on him. The ground vibrated with the power of many feet as they closed the distance, hollering about how Caoilfhionn was going to bleed him dry. The edges of his vision were beginning to darken, an almost static like flickering to his perception of the world and his body ran cold. He was losing consciousness.

He held onto reality for just long enough to feel the weight on his stomach rise and a glimmer of his men charging past his fallen body before he succumbed to the fresh dose of poison coursing its way through his body.

When he blinked open his eyes next, he felt the familiar warmth of a fire licking at his skin. The crackling of the wood was what came to him next, then a pop as a charred stick broke into two and sent an ember flying into the night sky. He lay there for a few minutes and nobody noticed his revival until Treech walked by to add a log to the fire, his worried face glancing at him, obviously expecting Faelin’s eyes to be closed. He yelped in surprise as he saw Faelin staring directly up at him, starting to get himself into a tizzy about his current state. It was all blurring together as his men gathered to try and talk to him but he couldn’t process the cacophony.

His body didn’t feel like lead anymore, he could feel the breeze on his body. As he moved to prop himself up on his elbows, he noticed his astute lack of a shirt and the damp cloths that were laid across him. A soft clink drew his attention through the chorus of voices and he saw a small pile of glass vials near his hip. Ah. That made much more sense. They must have poured every last vial in their packs down his throat in a sad attempt at reversing or halting the progression of the poison. Surprisingly, it seemed to have worked. At least slightly, he still felt as though death was coaxing him into her embrace, but he could move.

The next few hours he was doted upon, his men brought him fresh water from the stream and after a quick reprimand from Faelin about their chattering, kept themselves quiet so as to not irritate their leader further. Faelin remained by the fire, his torso slumped forwards as he tried to breathe his way through the discomfort. It only made his skin secrete more sweat, creating a constant glimmering sheen to his body despite the freezing winter night around him. His neck twinged with an ache every time he flexed it, the back of his head felt as though he had been slammed into a metal block. But he was alive.

It hadn’t taken long for him to spot Caoilfhionn. He was kept far enough away that the fire’s glow barely illuminated his figure. He was tied tightly to a wooden post that his men had slammed into the frozen earth, the strange collar fixed around his neck and he was breathing shallowly. For a moment, Faelin thought him to be dead but then the mage would take a larger breath and Faelin looked away.

He was staring aimlessly into the dirt beside the fire when he heard a noise, it made him tilt his head back towards Caoilfhionn. His body lined with the light of the fire behind him, he was almost in complete shadow but there was a glint of light being reflected from the back of Faelin’s retina. He could see Caoilfhionn as well as if it were broad daylight. Beside him, he heard Treech continue their conversation about when they would be returning to the King. He kept his eyes trained on Caoilfhionn as he spoke.

“We leave at dawn.” His voice was coarse and ripped raw, the metallic taste of blood rose on his tongue and he knew his throat was torn to bits. He felt incredibly dehydrated no matter how much he drank. His eyes were dull and skin held a pallor akin to a corpse. “The King can have his new toy, I’m tired of playing with it.” He curled his lip, evidently infuriated by the mage’s presence. He had made this mission so difficult. Faelin was tired, tired of him and tired of everything.

With that, Faelin dragged himself up from the ground and shambled towards Caoilfhionn. Almost walking directly into the other man before veering off to the left and ducking into the largest tent at the camp, the canvas flaps engulfed him and he didn't emerge again that night.

It was the usual routine of packing all of their gear up and fixing it to their pack mules, strapping the heavy bags onto their own steeds as well. They left Caoilfhionn where he was during all of it, tied to the post and watching them with furious eyes.

Unfortunately for Faelin, it was his duty to transport the mage and thus he needed to get the bastard up onto his horse. His horse was large enough to facilitate the both of them as they returned to the captiol. A steady and confidence stallion, a war horse of some sort, Faelin wasn't entirely sure on his breed. He was a sight to behold, a shimmering perlino with pale eyes and mane to match. Tacked up in leather bleached with magic to match the prestigous appearance, all of the metal fixtures were golden.

Faelin approached Caoilfhionn, ignoring the spitting anger that was being directed at him and grasped the wooden post with both of his hands, usually one would suffice but after the poison he was still weak. He wrenched the beam from the earth and tossed it aside, the wood giving a dull thud as it rolled down an embankment.

"Get up." Faelin stood before him, waiting for the mage to obey his command. His eyes remained sullen, bloodshot, but incredibly irritated. He waited for the man to stand before pulling a small golden chain from his satchel, it sparkled in the dawn light. It was one long chain, not a loop but as Faelin moved to flick the metal around the front of Caoilfhionn's collar it melted into itself. Forming a loop that enclosed around the collar, almost like a leash. He attached the other end of the chain to his own belt, then without giving the mage another glance, he turned and began to stride towards his horse not caring if he had to drag Caoilfhionn by their new connection.