He had chased after her. Against all his judgment, all his mental training, he had followed her when she ran away. He had been curt and harsh, something he had trained himself to be since his prime. It had torn him up to see the way she looked at him. He shouldn't have cared! Never before would he have cared, and yet, his heart broke when she turned tail and ran. Ran from him! Matthias knew he should have let her go, turned around and walked away. And yet, he couldn't. Whatever spell she had cast over him, it bound the two of them. It was like a physical pain, and yet not. The further she ran the harder the link pulled. He growled against it, snapped at the air in a vain attempt to sever the connection. But no matter what he did, the magic had snuck into his very soul. Matthias was no longer his own wolf. He belonged to her.

With a final growl of annoyance, the large gray wolf darted after his black mistress. Had she returned to Asteraia, he would have ignored the heavily scented borders and followed. Rather, the wolfess took a different path and disappeared into the thick forest that surrounded the plains. Lost in the shadows, the mercenary would have lost her had his nose not been so keen. It was the only sense that was not failing in his old age. Large paws carried him through the forest, close on her heels as she sprang through tall trunks. Again, he was reminded of the years that wore on his bones. As a younger male, he could have run like this for hours. Even in this short sprint he was already winded, tongue lolling to the side. He couldn't keep the chase up for much longer.

"Wait a minute! Please, I'm… I'm sorry!" he called to her, surprised to find he actually meant it. Since when did he beg!? Yelling had taken the last of air from his lungs. He could no longer run after her. Slowing to a stop, the old wolf stood on slightly shaking legs and panted loudly, steel blue eyes watching the shrubs she had vanished behind. He growled between breaths, cursing his age, cursing the dense forest, and most of all, cursing the damned games Fate played on him. The pain in his chest, the aching of his heart, grew stronger with each passing moment he was away from the mysterious woman. He would find her… he just needed a moment to catch his breath. "Damn my old age," he whispered, waiting for his body to catch up.