“Oh, I rather think I would.” Crowley swiped a hand out at Aziraphale, and the dryad yelped. Just as swift as Crowley’s ascent was Aziraphale’s descent, the nymph dropping to the ground and breaking out into a sprint. Crowley whooped, fire raging in his stomach and groin as the dryad fled, and then yelped as he lost his balance and fell, hitting the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. He grinned in the direction Aziraphale had taken off and sprang to his feet, eager to give chase.