Some old bit of Fae training kicked in, and I called upon my ice lasso again—cue the Elsa comparisons—and caught the guy around one ankle. He turned and ran, and I managed to scramble to my feet.
“Hades! Stop, I just want to talk to you.”
All I could see was the back of his head, which had longish salt and pepper curly hair, not his face. His stocky, muscular build filled out the wide-sleeved shirt and leather jerkin, and he wore breeches of some sort of thick material, which were tucked into the boots I"d noticed. I placed his time period in the eighteenth century.
And he was strong. I barely kept my feet as my lasso dragged me along behind him. He headed into the woods and straight to the time bubble barrier. Then he ran through it. My lasso remained taut, and I held on and braced mys
