There is always a spark of magic on the air around Hecate, but it is stronger this night. He is following, her gaze shifted back in front of her and she put on a burst of speed, the tattered hem of her dress whipping about her legs as she ran, trailing behind her in gauzy ribbons, like the flying blackness of her mane. She ran not from him, but for him. There was all the difference in the world. He would catch her, he had greater stamina and longer legs, but not yet.