The rain poured down, drenching Aziaroth's robes. He clenched his jaw, barely able to see out from his long, wet hair. He knew that a hunter was chasing him. You, to be exact.

Aziaroth's movements were a bit wobbly, which was unnatural for his graceful nature. He sprinted further into the raining forest, feeling the damp soil on his bare feet.

'Goddamn that hunter,' he cursed mentally. He made a sharp turn, his light blue eyes widening in surprise. But, it was too late to slow down, and Aziaroth slipped in a puddle of mud, causing him to tumble into a bramble bush. He tried to move, but the thorns caught on his clothing and held him in place, his horns tangled in the wiry plant.

And then, he saw you. Water dripping down your face as you looked down upon him. He growled, knowing he was caught.