The girl's haphazard trail was easy enough to track, scented with blood and fear.

When he came upon her, she was gasping and trembling, kneeling beside the creek. She'd drenched the front of her gown in her frantic efforts to clean the blood from her hair and face. Her head jerked in his direction. He got a good look at her bruised and bloodied face, the mottled red swelling around her eye. Blood was still crusted along her neck and ear where her frantic efforts to wash had not reached.

She stood slowly and scanned the trees, eyes narrowing as her gaze settled on the place where he crouched. He was no novice to the hunt. Silence and stealth were instinctive. Those sharp eyes sought him out, and he wished he'd bothered to learn more about her kind. The Ethereal were thought to be extinct in this world, and he was ill prepared to defend against her abilities.

"Who are you?" she called. She knew he'd tracked her. There was no reason to hide. He stood slowly, hands raised to chest level.

"I'm not one of them," Mingan said simply as he made his way toward her, taking a few, slow, casual strides down the embankment. She scrambled back, splashing into the water once more. He paused.

"You are," she accused, her fierce tone undermined by the all too visible trembling. She evaluated him slowly before speaking once more. "At least, you are cut of the same cloth."

To the untrained eye of a mortal, he was fairly unremarkable in height and build, fit and lean muscled. He wore blue jeans and a worn leather jacket, a bit of turquoise hinting at the necklace tucked into his shirt. His dark, red toned skin, long, slick black hair, strong nose and high cheekbones, spoke of his heritage. Yet, he knew, all she saw were the similarities he shared with Wakinu. They were both Mythics, shifters, and they had both hunted her through this forest.

Her gaze settled on his face and she studied him. She spoke once more.

"Though I sense that you are of a less brutal sort," she said cautiously. She braved a few faltering steps, climbing from the water to lean on a nearby tree. "You were the one to help me escape." She pulled at her dress in a futile effort to keep the damp cloth from clinging to her skin and shivered.

"I did." He took a few more steps forward and she tensed.

She shook her head, her expression one of confusion and pain. "Who are you?"

"A hunter. I hunt trespassers, like yourself."

"Trespasser? I would not be here if I had a choice." She seemed to dim with each passing moment, a defeated weariness seeping into her tone.

"Then why are you here?" He glanced at the darkening sky. They would have to be on the move soon. He was unsure just how determined Wakinu would be to get his hands on this rare Mythic.

She considered his question, and leaned more heavily on the rough bark of the tree. "My... ah, companion was experimenting with spells." She closed her eyes as if struggling against the memory of it, rubbing at her temple before she spoke again, eyes still pressed shut.

"There was a flash of light. No. Not a flash, it was as if there was a tear in the fabric of reality. If that is possible. Light poured in, and then there was wind, a terrible wind. It caught me up and I was hurled towards the light." A rush of emotion flashed across her face as she spoke. She sighed and shook her head, meeting his eye once more.

"Then I was here."

"What of your companion?" he asked, clenching his jaw. One Ethereal was more than enough. He didn't relish the thought of tracking down another, one strong enough to open a Gate at that.

"Perhaps he would have come, but it all happened so quickly." She reached into a pocket of her gown, the only part it seemed she'd managed to keep dry.

"I fear he will not be able to." She pulled out a handful of papers. "This is his work, the spells he used. I recognize some of the words. But this is the old language. I am not versed in such things." She stared at the crumpled pages for a moment. "I believe this is what those — those beasts were after." She looked up at him, her gaze hopeful.

She continued when he failed to fill the silence. "If I am not welcome here, if you can read them, perhaps you can use these to send me home."

"You are far too trusting for your own good. Those are your bargaining chip, girl. What makes you think —"

"I do not believe you mean me harm," she protested.

"The men, those beasts you met earlier, did you trust them as blindly as you would me?" He couldn't help but wonder just how young she was. More than a child, considering the well curved form that her damp gown revealed, but not by much.

"I sensed their intentions. I am not a fool." She raised her chin, in yet another attempt to drive home her defiance at his mockery of her. "If not for the fact that I wished to recover these documents, they would have not caught me. "

"You should have left the damned notes, then," he muttered, pulling his pack off his shoulder and rummaging around for a cloth. "Give them to me."

She handed the pages over reluctantly, staring at the frayed, but clean cloth he offered for a moment before taking it in exchange. She dabbed at her face and neck, grimacing as the cloth came away tinged with red.

"I can't send you home. Though it is my duty to do something with you," he told her.

"And what exactly would this something be, Wolf?"

He stiffened, and his fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to trace his fingers over the slowly fading, tattooed runes that hid his true nature. Wakinu had called him wolf, surely that had given away his nature. The spells were faded, but still strong enough. The way she read him set him on edge.

"I'll keep you alive, I suppose. Take you to those who will know what to do hand written with an unwanted creature on our lands." He said dismissively as he looked over the pages. "These do appear to be notations and spells," he said. This Ethereal language shared the same origins as the runes he knew so well. He could make out some of it, but there was much that was beyond even his understanding.

"Send me back and there would be no need for threats," she grit out, her body tense as she studied him. The cloth he'd given her clenched in her white knuckled fist, all but forgotten.

He scoffed at this. "I wouldn't attempt such a thing. Not now, not here, and not for you." Folding the pages carefully, he put them into his pack.

"You cannot, or will not? You do not wish me here, why not send me back?"

"I could not open a Gate even if I wanted," he said. "Only a great old power could possibly..." He trailed off, realizing once more the significance of her appearance. Just how had this companion of hers broken through the sealed barriers?

"If you won't help, I demand you return those papers. I will find someone who can."

He grinned, a feral, toothy grin. "Is that so?" He stepped back, a hand possessively on his pack. He almost relished the opportunity to put her in her place. The sooner her did so, the sooner they could move on. "The Gate can't be opened, regardless of what these papers say."

"I demand you return what is mine!"

"Stupid girl." He shook his head, turning away, intent on baiting her.

She grit her teeth and lunged at him.