The creature’s struggles and snarls intensified at the sight of him, making Ryathane take a moment’s pause as he readjusted his aim. Satisfied his arrow would bring a quick kill, his fingers slackened on the string, and he instinctively exhaled.

	“What in the--?!” He startled back as the wolf’s form shifted and he loosed the arrow, his movement throwing off his aim. The wood and metal whizzed through the mesh just above the shifting figure’s head. It caught on the other side and sunk with a loud, unnerving [i]thock[/i] in the rigged tree as fabric formed and fluttered around the new figure’s body, wrapping it in an instant and falling still in the form of an earthy dress.

	He lowered the bow slightly, gawking at the woman now suspended in the place of the wolf as she laced her fingers through the net.

	He expertly wiped the shock from his face as she looked to him. Despite his calm façade, his heart thundered in his chest and senses worked overtime as she called out to him in a strange, elegant accent he couldn’t quite place.

	His gaze hardened and he reached to his quiver, the possibilities of what he had caught running instantaneously through his mind. The moon wasn’t quite right yet for werewolves, was it? A shifter, then? Forest spirit? Demon? The list could go on, each deadlier than the last.

	He quickly nocked another arrow, this time for safety’s sake, and aimed it at the woman partially hidden in the shadow of the trees.

	He took a determined step toward the net, keeping his body angled sideways and bow straight. He looked at her, his heterochromatic gaze meeting hers, picking out a mix of disgust and fear swimming in her bright eyes.

	“Who are you?” he growled, his grip on the bow firm, yet ready to release in an instant if the woman tried anything. “Rather, [i]what[/i] are you? Lie to me, and it’ll be the last thing you do.” In emphasis, he raised the bow so the arrow came level with her chest, praying that, whatever she was, she couldn’t break through the trap. Just in case, he took a half step back, his feet crossing as he partially circled the net, searching for any sign of a weapon or further magic.