Rachel took a dislike to Randolf, her opponent in her seventh practice hunt, the moment she saw him.

A Philip, Randolf was not. Nor was he like any of the other hunters she had met.

He didn't stagger as he walked up to the desk to meet Rachel, but his breath gave away the fact that he had already spent more than a few minutes in the lounge. He hardly looked at her face until he was right in front of her, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Randolf Smythe. The girls all call me 'Randy.'" His leering grin told her that he really liked being called that.

God, Rachel thought, this bloke has a pun for a name.

"Well, Randolf," said Rachel, barely touching his hand, "that's what the girls call you. I'm a woman. What do the women call you?"

"Huh?" Randy Randolf didn't get it.

"An unusual sobriquet, but it suits you. My name is Rachel Jones and you can call me Rachel. Well, Huh, do you think you can give me good run today?" Rachel asked with barely concealed contempt.

"Oh, the best you ever had. I'll be hot on your trail, Babe."

"Your short term memory seems to have been affected by your liquid breakfast. The name is Rachel."

"Sure. Whatever."

Rachel turned away in disgust and said to the desk clerk. "Greta, please make sure that Huh here knows when it's ten o'clock. I wouldn't want him to be late getting started."

"Oh, I'm not going to start right at ten," Randolf informed them. "I think I'll just hang out in the lounge for a few hours. But don't worry, I wouldn't miss a chance to run down a nice looking babe like you."

Rachel gave him a gaze that would have wilted a sober man and said sternly, "You do understand, Huh, that this is only a practice run. If by some stroke of luck you catch me, I won't owe you anything except a word of congratulations. Right?"

"Anything you say, Babe. Always aim to please the girls." Randolf gave her one more long neck-to-toe lookover and said, "Well, I had better get back to the bar before my ice melts. You wouldn't like to join me, would you?"

"Oh, I think not."

"Suit yourself. Catch you later, Babe." Randolf swaggered off to the bar.

Rachel turned on her heel and stormed out the door of the lodge.

As she headed for the woods, Rachel got angrier with every step she took. After fifty paces, her anger reached the boil-over point.

"This is bull hockey!" she said and headed back for the lodge.

Greta was so startled by Rachel's reappearance that she barely had time to utter, "Rachel, where are you going? You aren't calling it off, are you?"

"Not bloody likely," Rachel snarled as she entered the quarry's locker room.

She re-emerged in less than two minutes carrying something in her hand and tried to contain her anger as she said, "Greta, I'm taking my cell phone with me."

"But Rachel, quarry aren't allowed..."

"Forget the bloody rules! Listen, in less than three weeks, my life is going to depend on what I learn in these practice hunts. I'm giving these blokes a good run and I'm not asking a brass farthing for it. I deserve to have them take this seriously. Here's what I want you to do. If handy, dandy, randy Randy hasn't taken off by eleven o'clock, I want you to give me a call. And I want you to do that every hour on the hour until he's left. I deserve to know whether I'm not getting caught because I'm so good or because that plonker is sitting on his arse killing off his brain cells."

Greta hesitated for just a moment.

Rachel took her hesitation badly.

"If you don't like the idea, may I suggest that we call Colonel Stoneridge and get his impartial opinion as to whether I'm within my rights. I'd suggest calling Amanda, but I think she would come out here and kick Randolf's arse up between his shoulder blades."

Greta shook her head. "No need Rachel. I'm going to call the Colonel myself. That sot isn't really breaking any rules, technically speaking, but you are perfectly within your rights. All that you're asking as compensation for acting as quarry is that the hunters give you a good chase. It's as though he's trying to stiff you on your runner's fee. I hesitated only because I was trying to think of someone who might be able to come out and be your hunter instead of Randolf. Scott might be able to move up a week on short notice."

"Sorry for blowing at you, Greta. Your idea would be fine, except that I do like to give the hound a chance to see the rabbit and I don't want to wait around for a replacement to show up." Rachel scowled in the direction of the lounge. "I can't imagine why Amanda recommended this piss-poor excuse for hunter."

"I think I know what happened," Greta explained. "There was another hunter named Randolf Smith, S-M-I-T-H, who was very good, but he moved to Australia two years ago. This fellow is Smythe, with a Y and an E. Amanda probably thought it was mistake in the membership list."

"For my money, his name in the list is a mistake."

"I'm sure the Colonel will agree. Do you want to try to work in another hunt in the next three weeks?"

"No. I'm taking enough time off from work as it is and my employer isn't too happy about it. She's already figuring that she'll have to replace me after June 19. Some vote of confidence, there. She's a realist." Rachel sighed. "I'll just play the hand I've been dealt. Making use of what I've got is sort of the theme of this exercise. I'll make good use of the time."

"Good luck, Rachel. I go off duty at five, and if he hasn't left by then, I'll see that my replacement keeps you informed."

"Thanks, Greta. I'll see you next week." Rachel left the lodge in a much better mood.

Actually, Rachel realized as she entered the woods, Randolf's slack attitude could be a lucky break for her. She could spend as much time as she desired practicing her set-up and observing it without fear of interruption.

By eleven o'clock, Rachel had practiced her set up twice. She was picking up speed, which she was glad about. When she got Greta's call saying that Randolf was still in the lounge with no sign of leaving, Rachel decided to tear down and redo at least one more time.

By noon, Randolf had not budged an inch and Rachel decided to leave her set up in place and come back later to observe it. She went off to put some effort into perfecting the trail and diversions with which she planned to confuse Amanda.

Randolf still had not left the lounge by tea-time.

As she sat and fed herself and the friendly rabbit, Rachel reflected on what seemed to be a day well-spent, even it hadn't been much of a hunt.

Moving at top speed, she could run the trail she planned to lay for Amanda in about 45 minutes. She estimated that it would take Amanda, walking at a normal pace, a minimum of two hours to cover it. If Amanda made every bad guess possible at every fork in the trail, her time could be three and a half hours, maybe more. The hunt wouldn't end there, of course. If everything went perfectly, Rachel might have as long as six hours to rest and prepare for Amanda.

There was the slimmest possibility that Amanda might not find her at all.

There was also a chance that a storm could come up and Amanda could be struck by lightning.

Rachel figured those two contingencies about equal in likelihood.

No, Amanda was almost certain to win the game of hide and seek. It would be what happened next that would be interesting.

Rachel had taken advantage of the privacy of Colonel Stoneridge's estate to practice the skills that she imagined would come in handy. She was getting better and faster at all of them.

Would it be enough?

She knew she couldn't win at Amanda's game, but would Amanda be able to beat her at her own game?

While Rachel had spent a few hours working in the Colonel's garden, Stone had chatted with her, doing his best to give her a bit of instruction in self-defense and Rachel paid careful attention. It wasn't that she was expecting to pick up any special little "trick" that would make her Amanda's equal in a physical struggle; rather, she was cultivating the habit of thinking defensively, learning principles that had broader applications. Let your opponent bring the fight to you, but don't let yourself be surprised. Make your opponent's own momentum work in your favor. Use no more force than necessary. Don't commit yourself prematurely. Take advantage of any distractions; don't let them take advantage of you.

Stone illustrated these general principles with some specific examples that Rachel found could come in useful. She also practiced some of the moves Stone described. Of course, the principles would probably have to be applied metaphorically in case of Amanda. Simple crash-course training would be useful only in unusual circumstances with Amanda.

Still, it never hurt to be a bit prepared for even the most unlikely happenstance.

Rachel left the bunny a nice pile of carrots and went back to her special site to see how her preparations were holding up.

All was well. Everything remained in place. The effect was what she desired.

Time to dismantle.

This time, Rachel decided to linger about the area for a while and to come back to the site in about an hour. She could scout around for some more sources of materials.

At six o'clock, Greta's relief had phoned Rachel to say that Randy was still in the lounge. Lord, Rachel thought, maybe he sprang roots.

Rachel went back to her site, checked to see that all was well, and decided to set up and tear down her preparations one more time.

Following that, she decided to go back to the clearing that had so much meaning for her.

This time, Rachel was a bit surprised. Someone else had clearly been there. Recently. Perhaps the past weekend.

There were fresh ashes from a fire.

There was blood on the ground under the same limb from which Rachel had hung after her first encounter with Amanda.

Rachel knelt down and looked at the blood. She had no was of knowing if it was human, if it was from a male or female.

Had the quarry been killed here or just brought here to be gutted and cooked?

Was the hunter anybody she knew?

How had it been for the quarry? Had s/he been killed neatly with efficiency or had there been unnecessary suffering?

Was there a fight or at least a struggle?

Did quarry accept his or her fate?

Rachel didn't regard whoever had been here as intruders, just a killer and an unfortunate...what? Man, woman, animal? Too much blood for a small animal. Probably a human.

And was that person like herself?

Why did anybody let this happen to themselves?

Why was she still persisting in putting herself in this kind of danger?

It occurred to her that there was an answer to that question, but she didn't have a handle on it.

Rachel knew she wasn't insane, wasn't suicidal. She didn't love danger.

But if she heard of another woman doing what she was doing, that would be her judgment.

Was she refusing to judge herself? Or was there a truth that was eluding her?

There was no call on her cell phone at eight o'clock. Rachel wasn't sure what to make of that. Maybe Randolf had gone home. Maybe the clerk forgot. Maybe Randolf had finally decided it was time to go a-hunting.

Rachel took her time going back to the lodge, her mood a bit solemn from her visit to the clearing. It was almost nine when she left the woods.

"Hi, there." A drunken male voice.

"Oh, hi, Randolf. I guess you caught me. Congratulations." Rachel was feeling too grim to want to berate him for having failed to make much of an effort.

"Well, you led me a good chase." He couldn't keep the snicker out of his voice as he stepped out of his concealment behind a bush.

"I hope I didn't wear you out."

"Oh, never too worn out for the likes of you." Randolf stepped in front of her.

"I'm sure there's a compliment intended there. Well, it's been a long day." Rachel moved to step around him.

"Oh, now, not so fast. The night is young yet." He repositioned himself in front of her.

"Perhaps we could have a nice chat in the lounge. I'm sure you must be thirsty." She didn't see any point in being too antagonistic, but tried to step around him again.

"What I'm thirsty for doesn't come in a glass." This time he put his hand on her shoulder to restrain her.

Time to be a little stern. "Randolf, this was a practice hunt. You don't get a prize."

"No, Babe. You get the prize."

"You flatter yourself." Rachel tried to brush his hand away, but her gentle touch was ineffectual.

"Look, in less than a month, you're going to be leftovers in Amanda Blake's freezer. If I were you, I'd be fucking every man who would have me."

"If I were YOU, I'd be doing the same thing." Rachel was beginning to get belligerent.

"I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on that." Randolf either ignored or, more likely, didn't catch the insult. "Now, you won't be any fun in cold storage. Besides, I hear that Amanda always eats the most useful part first. So, before it's too late, why don't you put it to use before Amanda gobbles it down?"

"I do plan to that, as a matter of fact, but this isn't the time or place, and you aren't the type of fellow I had in mind."

"Well, you can't really know that until you've given me a try, can you?"

"And just why should I do that?"

"Oh, come on. I gave you a good chase today. I think I do deserve some consideration, don't you? I mean, if you like, we can make it a little more real, a little more like I caught you in a real hunt." He began to finger his knife. "Is that what turns you on?"

Seeing Randolf's hand on his knife, Rachel decided to try a new tactic.

"Em. How very thoughtful of you to think about what turns me on." Rachel smiled broadly, invitingly. "Now you're showing me the kind of attention that I really appreciate. I do think you deserve something special."

"Now you're talking!"

Rachel put her hands on his shoulders, drew him to her.

Then she gave him a sharp knee in the groin.

As he doubled over in pain, she put her left hand under his chin, tilted his head up, pulled back her right hand, flattened her palm, and... walked into the lounge a few minutes later and sat down at a table.

"Hi, Rachel." Cheryl came over to take her order. "Where's Randy? I thought you two would be coming back together."

"Oh, you can probably find him outside sulking somewhere."

"Sulking?"

"Yes," Rachel said nonchalantly. "You see, he offered me a proposition and when I turned it down, I'm afraid he got his nose out of joint."