Chapter 15 - The Island Princess


Around a bend in the stream and a couple hundred feet downstream, crouched behind a rock, humming "Up the Lazy River" from the Louis Prima cd that her Aunt Jayne sent her, Rachel heard Amanda's exclamation and the splash that followed it.

Rachel chuckled.

There was no point trying to hide behind the rock. Amanda would figure out where she was soon enough. But there wasn't any point in being a standing target, either. Rachel looked around the rock, waiting for the appearance of the soaked huntress.

* * *

Amanda got to a sitting position quickly after having done a very ungraceful belly-flop into the stream. She had given her left ankle a twist and she rubbed the minor injury with one hand as she reached out with the other to touch the surface she had slipped from.

It only took her a moment to figure out what had happened.

Normally there was a small waterfall here. She could feel the rocky edge. She had known she was coming up on it, but she expected to see it. Somehow the water level had risen enough to conceal the drop-off.

How had that happened? Not enough rain had fallen the previous night to cause this to happen.

As she got to her feet, she muttered, "Well, lucky break for you, Rachel." The ankle injury might slow her down a bit. There wasn't much pain and Amanda could run through it, but she would have to be careful not to injure herself further.

Amanda continued to head downstream, looking for Rachel, of course, but also curious to find out what had caused the water to rise so much.

Rachel noticed that Amanda was favoring her left foot slightly as she rounded the bend of the stream. That could be useful.

The sight that greeted Amanda was puzzling. She knew that, beyond a certain point, the stream had a tendency to spread out to the west after a heavy rain, but it would have taken hours of a torrential downpour to create something like this.

The stream had broadened to at least five times its normal width. The ground here was not very level and a small hillock, created by the accumulation of sediment around a large rock, had not been submerged. There were a number of objects on the island and peeking around the side of the rock was a familiar raven-haired head.

"Hello, Rachel," Amanda shouted.

"Hi, Amanda. Nice of you to drop in." A hint of laughter was evidence of Rachel's amusement with her play on words.

Rachel does like her little traps; best to get on dry land, Amanda thought as she stepped on to the east bank of the stream.

Walking slowly, surveying the scene, the huntress was more than a little irritated by the time she reached the point nearest the island.

"Rache, I thought that we agreed that you wouldn't build any permanent structures."

"I haven't," Rachel said calmly.

"Well, what do you call that?" Amanda pointed to the cause of the accumulation of water.

"I call that a dam, something like an American beaver might build."

When Rachel had followed Stone's advice and let random chance select the details she should group together to get a new perspective on her problem, one drop of her blood had fallen on the song title "Up the Lazy River," another drop on Marsha Dillon's ancestry, and the third drop had touched "Log bridge" and "Waterfall" under the category "Stream." She could see the the connection between the song and the stream. But what did Marsha's ancestry have to do with either of those? And what would make a river "lazy," anyway?

As she tried to figure out a connection, she began stroking the soft fur of the rabbit snuggled up against her. And the rabbit's fur reminded her of something Marsha had said.

"See, the first Dillon to cross the Atlantic got rich trapping beavers and sending their pelts back to England."

Rachel had replied, "Oh, those industrious little animals with the flat tails." The semi-aquatic mammals gained their reputation for being industrious by building dams in which they lived in partially submerged lodges. The dams could slow a river's flow (make it "lazy") and raise the water level upstream. Rachel realized that if she could use the log bridge as the main part of a dam, she could create a basin of water over a foot and a half deep back to the waterfall.

It was also true that beavers used their flat tails to strike the water as a signal of danger, much as the splash Rachel heard had alerted her to Amanda's approach.

"And you mean to tell me that you put that tree trunk there this morning all by yourself without any help?"

"I didn't put the tree trunk there. Maybe the great god Pan put it there. All I did this morning was to pack sticks and rocks and mud and grass under the trunk," Rachel explained. "Now, I'm sure you could undo everything that I've done in about fifteen minutes. That's how long it took me in my practice runs. It took from about ten-thirty until just after one o'clock for the water to start to flow over the top of the log. The water will probably drain away a lot faster. You might want to destroy the dam and get the stream back to normal. We've got lots of time. It's not even four o'clock."

"Well, why should I bother to do that?" Amanda asked, huffily.

"Suit yourself." A shrug of the shoulders.

Amanda made a broad gesture with her left arm. "What is all this, anyway?"

"It's a new game, Amanda. You always win at Hide and Seek, so I came up with a new game for us to play."

"Oh." Amanda folded her arms. "And what do you call this new game?"

"Well, it's kind of like 'King of the Mountain.' Of course, this isn't much of a mountain." Rachel indicated ten foot by five foot oval of dry ground she stood on. "And I'm not built the right way to be a king. So, I've decided to call this game 'Island Princess.'"

Amanda laughed. "And is the island princess going to invite me to a luau?"

"The island can only support a very small population. Visitors might drain it of its few precious resources in a very short time."

"So, the princess doesn't want any company, then?"

"Right."

Amanda surveyed the set-up and realized that, actually, it did give Rachel some advantages. For one, Amanda would have to take the fight to her; the huntress would have to commit herself and Rachel could react accordingly. Amanda would have to slog through almost two feet of water, slowing her down. In a struggle, Rachel would have a firm, dry place to stand, whereas Amanda would be in slippery mud. Rachel had a number of objects that she planned to use in her defense and she also seemed to have been working on something that looked like a three-tiered umbrella. The plan was not completely without merit. Still...

"Rache, this is all really cute, but I don't see how it's going to do you much good. This bank isn't the coast of France and you aren't standing on the cliffs of Dover. This fifteen feet of water between us isn't the Channel, either. What's to keep me from just walking over there and inviting myself to the luau?"

"Well, I do have this." Rachel bent over and picked up an eight-foot long spear with a very sharp point.

"Oh, Rache! You've made your own spit! How accommodating of you. It looks pretty thick, though. That will probably hurt like hell going in. And you've only made one yoke for it." Amanda referred to a Y-shaped stick about three high that had been driven into the ground. "You don't expect me to hold up the other end while you cook, so you? Look, you know how I like to prepare my meat, but if you have your heart set on being spitted, let's go find a cabin where they have a nice, proper hollow spit that will allow you to breathe."

"I didn't carve this for use on myself."

Amanda didn't take spears as lightly as her words might indicate. She had seen what one of her favorite quarry had done to another hunter using a handmade yew spear. However, that fellow had been an oaf and had underestimated his opponent. Amanda was sure that taking Rachel's stick away from her wouldn't be much of a problem. Probably.

"Well, if you really think you have what it takes to drive a spear into someone, get ready, because here I come." Amanda laid her bow and quiver of arrows on the bank. "Have you had much practice with that thing?"

"Enough, I hope. But actually this spear isn't the first line of defense."

"Oh?" Amanda looked up.

"We do have our missile system. Primitive, but effective." Rachel kicked at two large piles of rocks at her feet.

This didn't impress Amanda at all. Rachel had never really seen her in action. Anything that a person could throw and that Amanda could see, she could dodge.

"I hate to disappoint you, Rachel, but I am far from terrified. Are you ready? Or do you have more to tell me about?"

"There is the barrier reef, of course."

"The barrier reef? What the hell is that?"

"You know. Things hidden underwater that invaders can run aground on. Often topped with sharp, sticky, pointy things that can damage the bottom of a vessel. A diver who isn't very careful can get cut up pretty badly on them."

Amanda realized that this could be a real threat. She had not seen the drop-off and as a result she was soaking wet. The stream was very clear. Still, it could be hard to distinguish sharp sticks or anything else pointed upwards. If she were to trip, there was no telling what she might land on. She was wearing good shoes, but they were more designed for speed and traction than protection; nails would penetrate the soles and a very sharp, hardwood stick might. She would have to move slowly and carefully.

"Of course, if you destroyed the dam, then you would be able to see better."

"Well, that would give you time to finish that triple-decker umbrella or whatever it is that you're working on." Amanda referred to a pole roughly six feet long that seemed to be the axle for three wheels. The two wheels nearest one end were five feet in diameter and had over a dozen spokes cris-crossed with webbing of some kind. A smaller wheel near the center of pole was more like a solid disk.

Rachel was silent at the mention of the "umbrella."

Amanda noticed something else. "What happened to your rabbit's foot? I thought that was rather cute."

"It's laying behind the rock. I thought it would get in the way."

"Better hope that it can do you some good from there, because I'm coming."

In response, Rachel bent down and picked up a rock from each pile in front of her, one in each hand.

"I didn't know you were ambidextrous," Amanda commented.

"Well, I wasn't bisexual, either, until I met you. Always ready to learn something new."

Amanda knew that Rachel was primarily right-handed. Some cricket bowlers could pitch with both arms, but it was rare. It was almost impossible for anybody to throw two objects accurately at the same time. Watch Rachel's right hand, Amanda told herself.

Cautiously, Amanda stepped into the water, keeping an eye on Rachel, relying on slow foot movements to detect any danger in the water. She still had her knife sheathed.

Keeping alert, Amanda moved forward step by step. No sharp pointed things so far. That could have been a bluff.

If she could dodge one rock, she should be able to move in quickly enough to take Rachel before she could rearm herself. Of course, the closer Amanda got to the island, the better a target she would make. Rachel knew that and was waiting, waiting.

Amanda was five feet from the bank, and twelve feet from the island's shore when she saw the subtle movement that telegraphed Rachel's intention to throw. The huntress prepared to dodge.

With her left hand, Rachel spiked a rock into the stream right in front of Amanda, splashing water into her face and, most important, her eyes.

Blinded for a split second, Amanda could not dodge the unseen rock that struck her just below her right collarbone. There was a lot of force behind the throw. Rachel must have been practicing.

"Good trick, Rache. But it will only work once."Amanda rubbed the bruise the rock had made. "You know, if you make this too difficult for me, I'll have to use the bow and arrows. I really don't want to do that."

"I don't want you to, either." Rachel picked up two more rocks.

"Okay. Be stubborn." Amanda began to advance again.

Rachel's splash-strike strategy did work a second time.

This time, Amanda howled in pain and put her hand to her left eye.

Oh, God, I hope I didn't hit her in the eye. Amanda has such beautiful eyes! Rachel thought. She didn't see any irony in her concern.

The huntress stumbled back and rolled onto the bank, blood streaming down her face.

"Amanda! Are you okay?" Rachel cried out.

"I've been better," Amanda said. "But you got me right on my eyebrow. You didn't blind me, though, if that concerns you."

Rachel was relieved but didn't express it verbally.

Amanda slipped off her kit bag and shorts, made a quick bandage from the latter and wrapped it around her head to keep blood from running into her eye.

Both women were now naked from the waist down except for weapons and shoes.

The wounded huntress laughed. "Odd thing. I always thought that an eye patch could be an excellent fashion statement for a woman."

Rachel had to say it. "You would make a splendid female pirate."

"I'll suggest that to my agent." Amanda got to her feet and picked up her bow and an arrow from her quiver. "I really hate to do this, Rache."

"Why? The first time you tried to kill me, it was with an arrow."

"Yes. Sorry about that. You just looked so beautiful standing there that I wanted to take you out with one clean shot. If I hadn't missed, we would never have had a chance to know each other. I'm glad we did."

"Me, too."

"It's doesn't have to be this way, Rache."

"Well, there is another means of getting onto the island that you haven't tried," Rachel said.

"What's that?"

"Diplomacy."

"Diplomacy?????"

"Diplomacy. We could negotiate," Rachel suggested.

Amanda thought. "I don't have anything new to offer, Rache. Do you?"

"No. Do you have anything you want from me that you haven't wanted before?"

"No. What about you? What would you want from me that's different?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Rachel said.

"Well, then, I guess this is it."

"Guess so." Rachel grabbed her "umbrella" and laid the shaft of it in the yoke she had driven into the ground, pointing the tip of the shaft at Amanda. Viewed from the huntress's perspective, the device looked like two sixteen-spoke wheels and a shield about half the size of the wheels. The ends of the spokes of both wheels were linked by a fiber that formed a sort of a rim. Running from the hub of the wheel out to the "rim" were more fibers, four of them between each pair of spokes. Two concentric circles of fiber linked the strands. The effect was something like a spider web.

"What the hell is that?" Amanda was astonished. "If that's supposed to be a shield, Rachel, it's got a few gaps in it."

"I didn't think anything I could find in the woods could make a shield that I could rely on to stop an arrow fired from a bow like you use. At least nothing I could throw together in a half-hour."

"I'm sure you're right."

"But I don't need to stop your arrows, just deflect them."

"And that's what that whatever-it-is is for?"

"Think of it as two fans with sixteen blades. I know that a bat can fly through the blades of a moving fan. I wonder about your arrows."

"My arrows may not be able to twist and turn like a bat, but I solemnly assure you that they are much faster," Amanda informed Rachel.

"A friend of mine timed me using a high speed movie camera. Believe it or not, I can spin this thing roughly thirty times a minute. Every second, eight blades of each fan pass through any given point Now, your arrows are three feet long, right?"

"About that."

"Do they travel much faster than 24 feet per second?"

"I'm sure they travel more than ten times that fast. Probably 300 feet per seconed."

Rachel smiled. "I looked it up. Let's say, for the sake of example, you're right. Now, with one fan with sixteen blades, I would have about a bit less than a one in twelve chance of deflecting an arrow."

"Right." Amanda nodded.

"With two fans I would have about a one in six chance."

"Uh huh. And those strings that you've added to the framework - it looks like you have three or four of them for every blade."

"Four."

Amanda did a quick calculation. "So, those strings - if they're strong enough - put the odds in your favor."

"Yup."

"Assuming, of course, that the thing works at all. Have you tested it?"

Rachel smiled and said, enigmatically, "After a fashion."

"And just what are those strings, anyway?" Amanda asked.

"Shakespeare Omniflex monofilament fishing line. It tests to fifty pounds."

Amanda sighed. "And that smaller wheel - is that actually supposed to be a shield, or is that another fan?"

"Oh, it's a shield. I wanted to get the two fans put together first, but after they were done, I decided to make a shield out of bark I stripped from the saplings I used to make the two fans."

"I'm sure that will be a lot of help." Amanda tried to sound sarcastic. "You know, if I hit one of those strings - or even one of the 'blades' of your fans - straight on, it will just break and the arrow may not be deflected at all."

"Well, I still have my rabbit's foot behind rock."

"Your rabbit's foot! That weird rope that you had it hanging from, the rope that was about thirty times as thick as it needed to be - you braided that together out of the fishing line. Right?"

"Right."

"Clever, Rache. Not going to work, but clever." Amanda noched an arrow and raised the bow, seemingly with sadness. Then she lowered the bow and said, "Rache, I really don't want to kill you" - a brief, almost undetectable pause - "this way. Will you please give this up and let me take you alive."

"I won't give up." Firmly spoken.

The archer raised her bow again. "If I can Rache, I'm going to try to just wound you so that we can have some quality time. I can take you to a cabin and give you pain meds."

"Well, if that's the way it comes out, I'll do my best to be entertaining."

"In case this is fatal, any last words, Rache?"

"Just that it's been nice knowing you, Amanda." Rachel set the device spinning.

"Same here." Amanda released the arrow.

Which was knocked harmlessly away from its target. It struck the rock behind Rachel.

"Hey, this works!" Rachel picked up one end of the arrow and broke it with her foot.

As quickly as she could, Amanda readied another arrow, but Rachel was back spinning her deflector again and, again, it was successful. Again, Rachel broke the arrow with her foot.

"How many arrows do you have, Amanda?"

"Enough."

"Oh, you can be more forthcoming than that. I counted six in your quiver this morning. I doubt that you added any to that."

Amanda growled. "Observant little thing, aren't you?"

"I try."

Amanda released another arrow. This one was barely stopped by the bark shield.

"Rachel, give it up. I really don't want to kill you this way."

"Then don't." Rachel pulled the arrow through the shield and broke it.

Exasperated, Amanda decided to try a new tactic. Rachel couldn't throw two rocks and keep her ridiculous defense spinning at the same time. At best, she could lob a rock over the spinning wheel and that would be easy to dodge. Amanda nocked another arrow, stepped into the stream and began a slow advance, keeping her arrow aimed at Rachel so that she couldn't afford to let her wheel stop. Amanda might have to dodge a single rock or two, but it seemed reasonable that she could walk to the island without interruption. Once there, disarming Rachel should be no problem. All that was necessary was to avoid the "barrier reef," whatever that was.

Rachel had foreseen this possibility. She looked down at her piles of rocks. She would need a bit of luck and some good timing to cope with this. Keeping her device spinning with her left hand, she stooped quickly and picked up a rock with her right.

Each time she took a step, Amanda looked down, checking carefully where she put her foot, then eased the foot down gently. No matter what little sharp, pointy things Rachel might have concealed in the water, she should be able to feel them before she put her weight on them. Once satisfied that she was on the stream bed and nothing else, she looked up and raised her foot to take another step. Balancing on her sore ankle for a few seconds was painful, but far from unbearable.

Amanda had made it about eight feet from the bank and was feeling confident. Slowly, slowly. Lift and advance. So far, no sticky things.

Suddenly, she felt her right foot catch on something, Disconcerted, she looked down to see what had taken hold of her.

Rachel tossed the rock in the air before shouting, "Heads up!"

Amanda couldn't ignore that. She did look up at the rock descending upon her. Trying to lurch out of the way, her other foot got caught and she stumbled awkwardly forward, landing face down in the water, shooting her fourth arrow accidentally in the process. The arrow wound up stuck in the ground a few feet from what would have been its target.

Rachel immediately stopped spinning her umbrella, grabbed several rocks and began throwing them with accuracy and force, each one striking home.

Amanda made a crawling retreat, having been hit on the back and neck five times. The pelting stopped as soon as she drew herself up on the bank.

"I take it I just encountered the barrier reef," Amanda said wryly, rubbing her sore neck.

"Correct."

"Why did you stop throwing rocks? Aren't you accurate over fifteen feet."

"I don't want too many black and blue marks on your skin," Rachel said, breaking the latest arrow over her knee.

"Yes. Of course." Amanda had managed to hold on to her bow as she scrambled and she now picked up another arrow and prepared to fire.

This time, the arrow stuck one of the fish line strands and broke it, then passed through the shield. Fortunately, Rachel had shifted to the right, and the arrow only made a tiny laceration on her left side, just above her hip.

"Well, you did break one piece of line after using five arrows. If you had several hundred arrows you might break them all. Then I would be in a pickle. But you only have one arrow now, don't you?" Rachel taunted.

"You can subtract as well as multiply. There seems to be no end to your talents."

"Thank you."

The sun had now sunk just enough in the sky that, although mostly blocked by trees, it was in Amanda's eyes. Might as well shift position so that if anyone had to look into the sun, it would be Rachel, Amanda figured. Crossing the stream via the tree trunk would give her a chance to inspect the dam.

"You aren't leaving, are you?"

Amanda didn't bother to answer.

The yoke upon which Rachel rested her "umbrella" rotated easily, allowing her to keep her deflector/shield between herself and Amanda.

Once on the west bank, a few feet higher than the island, with the sun to her back, Amanda regarded Rachel. Tanned and fit, she really did look like an island princess. Lovely, tasty. And so, so spirited! This was marvelous!

"Rache, I think I should tell you that you've already set a record for holding out against me once I came face to face with my quarry. I know this will sound odd, but, really, congratulations. No matter what happens, you'll always be special."

"Thanks. Likewise," Rachel replied.

Amanda looked at her last arrow.

"Please, find your way into soft flesh," she told the arrow. It wasn't quite a prayer, it wasn't quite magick, it wasn't an order, but, rather, it was a request. Or, maybe it was all of the above.

Amanda took aim, still hoping she could wound Rachel enough to disable her, but not kill her. Before the day was over, Amanda wanted to reward Rachel for having put up such a good resistence. She also hoped, before the day was over, to find out why Rachel had persisted in going through with the hunt.

Amanda loosed her arrow.

It flew straight through Rachel's fans, missed the shield, missed Rachel, missed the rock and because Amanda was in a somewhat more elevated position than Rachel, it went right into the stream.

"Shit!" Amanda said, but not with as much sincerity as she would have expected.

"Well, if you want to go back to the lodge for more arrows, I might wait right here for you to come back - or I might not." Rachel couldn't resist adding with a bit of a smirk, "Though, I'm not sure how much good more arrows would do you. You didn't accomplish much with the first six."

"You're bleeding, aren't you?" Amanda retorted.

"Yes, but I'll live."

"That's wishful thinking, Rache."

"And that sounds like an idle boast, Amanda."

"We'll see." Even though there was sourness in her voice, Amanda was excited by Rachel's confidence. She couldn't recall having seen this in her quarry before. It was different. It was... fun.

No more arrows. A slow, steady, careful approach wouldn't work. Well, it might work, but Rachel had plenty of rocks left and Amanda already had more bruises than she had sustained in the past five years of hunting. Also, her twisted ankle wasn't getting any better.

The only thing left was a rushing attack. Run through the water or mud, dodge the rocks (if Rachel chose to use them instead of her spear), overtake Rachel and pin her down.

Of course, there was the barrier reef. And maybe dozens, scores of sharp sticks.

Amanda would have to be able to see the surface she would be traversing.

Rachel laid her umbrella aside, sat down on the rock, and prepared to watch as Amanda dismantled the dam.

Five o'clock. The hunt had five more hours to go.

Amanda went to the middle of the trunk bridge, lowered herself into the water and began grabbing the rocks, sticks, and mud that had been packed under the trunk, keeping an eye on Rachel to make sure she wasn't leaving the island or preparing a rock barrage. Apparently, the bridge was beyond throwing range.

After ten minutes, water was no longer running over the top of the bridge. After another five minutes, Amanda was confident that she had removed as much material as necessary.

Amanda returned to west bank.

The two women sat, thirty feet from each other, waiting for the water to go down.

After a long period of silence, Rachel said, "I'm still open for negotiation."

"Me, too," Amanda said. "You go first."

"No, you."

More silence.

At a bit after six o'clock, Amanda got up and selected a sapling, cut it down and began to create a weapon to counter Rachel's spear.

The surface between the west bank and the island, when the water drained away, would be pure mud. Rachel, of course, would have dry ground to stand upon. Amanda had strength on her side, but the difference in traction might be an adequate compensation. Amanda could make herself a spear as long and thick as Rachel's and the two of them could bang away at each other. Eventually, Amanda would win, of course, but it would be a matter of bruised or broken knuckles, possibly a few slashes, and throughly exhausting.

Under normal circumstances, Amanda was confident that she simply advance unarmed, grab Rachel's spear, and wrestle it away from her. The soggy mud, however, could make that dangerous to attempt.

Amanda had a simple, direct plan that would rely on speed and timing.

She selected a sapling, used her knife to hack it down, and made herself a short, sturdy baton, about two feet long and three inches thick, ideal for her purpose.

The plan for the attack was to run in as rapidly as the mud and her sore ankle would allow, heading right into Rachel's spear. At the right moment, swing the baton, knock the spear aside, and be on top of Rachel before the defender could bring the spear up again.

The harder Rachel tried to hold the spear steady, the more likely it was that she would be knocked off balance. If Rachel tried to swing or raise the spear out of the way of the baton, so much the better.

Amanda would be in trouble only if it were possible for Rachel to quickly retract the spear and thrust it forward again. Nobody had reflexes that fast, unless trained in the martial arts for years.

Amanda decided to put a point on her baton, just for the sake of intimidation.

By the time Amanda had created her assault weapon, the stream was flowing normally and there was nothing between her and Rachel's island except mud - and what remained of the "barrier reef," which was nothing more than two circles of fishing line surrounding the island and supported by sticks.

"How much of that line did you bring with you?" Amanda asked.

"Well, the braid was thirty inches long and an inch thick. The line is less than three one-hundredths of an inch in width. Figure it out."

"Never mind."

"Oh. You noticed that I had taken off my rabbit's foot, but did you also notice that I'm not wearing any socks?"

"You mean you knitted stockings for yourself from fishing line?" Amanda said, with a tone of disbelief.

"More like crocheted them, actually. Much faster. Also, much easier to unravel."

Amanda smiled in appreciation of the effort that Rachel had put into this contest. No other quarry had even come close to providing this much competition.

But, it was now time to draw this to a close.

The cut in her forehead had quit bleeding and Amanda removed her make-shift bandage and shook her hair free.

The sun, though largely blocked by trees, was at an angle flattering to both women.

Dappled with splotches of sunlight, Rachel, defiant and proud, spear in hand, stood with her legs spread, wide ready for Amanda's attack. Blood no longer trickled from the wound on her side, but her shifts of position as she spun her deflector had caused bright crimson lines to run, not only down her hip, but over her lower abdomen, pointing the way toward her sex. A highly desirable, barely attainable goal, the satisfaction of all appetites, the golden girl in the sun.

Natural back-lighting glorified Amanda's flowing red tresses. The few bruises and cuts she had sustained only highlighted by contrast the perfection that was her body. Poised for attack, she seemed an irresistible force about to be unleashed. Appetite, hunger, a chasm ready to reach out and engulf, heretofore unsatiated, seeing satisfaction almost within its grasp.

In a deep, breathy voice, Amanda announced, "Rachel, I want you!"

Clear as clarion chimes, Rachel responded, "Here I am. Come and try to get me."

Over the years, Amanda had killed a wide variety of quarry under a smaller variety of circumstances. One of many ways to divide the kills she had made was according to whether the kills were up close and personal or accomplished at a distance using a bow and arrow. Up close and personal allowed the opportunity to get to know her dinner and eating a perfect stranger was, well, somehow less civilized, though she wouldn't pass up an opportunity.

When the event was up close and personal, sometimes the quarry preferred to be put to sleep with a gentle pinch on the neck before being killed. More often, though, the quarry were wide awake and sometimes staring Amanda in the eyes when she killed them. In the bow and arrow kills, eye contact occurred much less often. Usually when quarry spotted Amanda, he or she took off running and none chose to run backwards. There was an element of uncertainty about using a bow and arrow; that element was missing when Amanda had the point of her knife to the quarry's vulnerability.

This situation with Rachel was a curious mixture. Rachel was staring her squarely in the eyes; it couldn't have been any more intense or intimate if they were sharing the same pillow. Yet, there couldn't have been more uncertainty about the outcome if two hundred yards of open field separated them. Rachel and Amanda would find out what would happen together. They were partners in an adventure that couldn't be more exciting for either of them. They were as fully aware of each other as two people could ever be. To the extent that life is awareness, they were alive together, each making the other even more aware and alive.

This was a wonderful moment.

A few weeks before, sitting on a bench, watching Rachel work in his garden, Stone had told her, "Never underestimate the effectiveness of something as simple and primitive as a war whoop, a battle cry. Unexpected and properly delivered, it can startle an opponent into a paralyzing critical moment of indecision. Always expect it. Always be ready for it. Don't let it bewilder you or frighten you. It's just one more noise."

Amanda emitted a terrifying shriek and charged toward Rachel.

Undisturbed by the auditory assault, Rachel remained calm. What would happen would happen.

The mud pulled at Amanda's feet, but barely slowed her down as she hurtled toward Rachel, aiming herself at the very point of the spear.

The normal expectation would be that an assailant would swerve. A defender would be prepared to shift focus one direction or another, remain flexible.

Tremendous momentum in her huge, athletic body, Amanda charged ahead, lifting her baton in a back swing, readying herself for the rapid movement of split-second timing that would utterly disarm Rachel, leaving her defenseless.

Steady, prepared to be knocked backwards until the base of the spear was driven into the solid rock behind her, Rachel stood her ground firmly.

With powerful force, Amanda swung the baton toward Rachel's spear.

Her movement too fast for even her own eyes to follow, Amanda felt the baton make contact with the spear.

Amanda sensed a yielding.

Purpose attained.

The perfect blow struck.

Triumph imminent.

And suddenly, incredibly...

Amanda ran smack into the end of Rachel's spear.

In stunned disbelief, Amanda looked down at her left breast.

At least two feet of Rachel's spear had disappeared and what remained stuck straight out from Amanda's chest.

How was that physically possible?

Why wasn't there even more pain than what she felt? Had her body gone into instant shock?

How could Rachel be so fast?

How could she have retracted and then thrust the spear forward with such speed, such timing?

Amanda grasped the spear. She couldn't let Rachel pull it out of her. What might come with it if she did?

How many minutes could she live like this?

There should be more pain, but this was enough.

How could this happen?

How could it all end this suddenly?

Amanda looked up into Rachel's face expecting to find...

Answers?

Sympathy?

Understanding?

Compassion?

Love?

But none of these things was to found in Rachel's countenance.

Rachel was smiling.

Laughing even.

No, Amanda told herself.

Don't laugh at me, Rachel.

In all the times Amanda had taken the life of another...

Whether reconciled or resistive...

Whether competent or inept...

Never, ever had Amanda laughed at her quarry...

As they...

Died.

Why are you laughing at me, Rachel?

Why you, of all people?



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