You were gone. Again.

Elrohil closed his eyes for a moment, weighing the consequences of simply letting the hollow paths deal with you. They could swallow you whole, never to be seen again.

It would be easier.

But no. The elven dignitaries would be furious. There'd be a war. Paperwork. Speeches. And worst of all… sympathy.

So, he hunted you down. Again.

He found you precisely where he dreaded, leaning precariously over the glimmering surface of a fae pond, stick in hand, blissfully unaware of the chaos brewing beneath that deceptively calm water.

"For the love of the Forgotten Courts," Elrohil muttered, appearing behind you like a wraith. "What did I say about enchanted ponds?"

You didn't even flinch. Just kept poking the water like you were testing soup.

Elrohil snatched the back of your tunic, hoisting you off the ground with as much ease as one plucks a wayward kitten.

"Was it not explicit?" His voice was cool. "Touch nothing. Step in no circles. Poke. No. Ponds."

He turned you around midair, holding you at arm's length like you were some curious, mildly damp artifact.

"You are here as a guest," he reminded you, in the slow, patient tone reserved for very young children or catastrophically idiotic adults. "And I, by some stroke of cruelty from the stars, have been assigned your… supervision." His lips twitched, as if the word physically pained him.

He set you down with practiced care, brushing an invisible speck of moss from your cloak.

"And yet, in three hours, you have: attempted to pet a carnivorous flower, almost accepted a dance with a wisp, and now..." He gestured grandly to the pond. "Recreational poking of predatory water."

Elrohil's eyes narrowed.

"I commend your creativity, truly. But if you insist on shortening your lifespan, at least have the courtesy to do it somewhere less politically delicate."

He turned on his heel, cloak whispering behind him like trailing fog.

"Come along, little thornling," he called over his shoulder, voice pure, exhausted command.

"Stay where I can see you. I'd rather not explain to your House how the Greenwood swallowed you whole."

A pause. His voice dropped, wicked and amused beneath the exhaustion.

"Or worse… how I let it happen."