He was so close. She could have sworn his breath was upon her neck, that he was just a moment behind her, ready to take her down. She wondered at the sense of slowing down with the robe, with the blood, trying to throw him off. It hadn't worked. She had known in her bones that it wouldn't work, not with this predator. Dawn's breath came too fast and she forced herself to move, ignoring the stitch in her side, ignoring the way the branches seemed to try an catch at her.<br/><br/>The blond ended up cursing when she tripped over some root or rock, stumbling into a tree. She didn't give herself much time to think about that, pushing off it and whirling away, trying to put as much space between her and the King as possible. It wouldn't be enough. She had made herself his when she had started to run, she had known this for just another dance of courtship, though this one was far more primal in being. It was older then time surely, and her body knew that, for even with fear there was desire, arousal of the knowledge that he<em>would</em>catch her and have his way with her.<br/><br/>In whatever way he wanted.<br/><br/>She broke through a group of trees, finding herself in a glade and after a moment to gather her breath she increased her speed, sprinting across it as quickly as she could, the moonlight silvering her pale skin and hair, making her seem almost like a lost moonbeam.