The illusion was so complete and Amanda looked so bewildered, Rachel couldn't help but laugh.

The spear had broken clean and even, just where she had sawed it more than three fourths of the way through, like the carrot she had broken in half for the rabbit after having almost sliced it in two.

It would only take a moment for Amanda to realize that she had not been impaled, so Rachel had to act fast.

Amanda didn't know how to react to the sudden upward movement the spear made, but it shocked her so much she released her hold on the shaft. It didn't make any sense that Rachel should be able to lift the spear without taking her with it.

Before Amanda could put it all together, Rachel took a step forward and brought the truncated spear down as hard as she could, aiming for Amanda's collarbone, hoping to incapacitate the huntress.

Amanda might not have understood what had just happened, but the idea of "big stick coming down fast" was no problem to sort out. She bent over quickly so that she took the blow on her back.

The force was enough to cause her feet, which had no traction at all, to slip out from under her and, landing face down and open-mouthed in the mud, the idea flashed through her mind, "Break-away spear tip. Good one, Rache!"

Shit! That didn't work like I wanted, Rachel thought. Well, at least she's down.

Rachel jumped on Amanda's back.

A good first move, but where to go from there?

Bring the end of the spear (now really just a big stick) down on the back of Amanda's neck.

Done.

Hold it there until Amanda asphyxiated in the mud and then pull her to shore, revive her and take her prisoner? Sounds good.

Except it wasn't working too very well.

Amanda was having great difficulty getting a solid enough purchase with her hands to raise herself up, but she was making progress.

Next plan?

Unsheath your knife, put it to her throat and demand she surrender or... what?

No need to worry about the "or what?" As much fun as mud wrestling with Amanda might be, having a knife in the game would be a mistake.

Okay, bring the big stick down on her head and knock her out. That might work.

But as soon as she raised the pressure off of Amanda's neck, the warrior-woman made major progress in raising herself out of the mud.

Shit!

Okay, time to abandon ship!

Using Amanda's head as a stepping stone, Rachel jumped back to her nice dry island.

Time to abandon the island, too.

And drop the stick.

Time to run for her life.

"So long, Amanda. I've got to skedaddle." Rachel bounded off of the island, across the mud, through the stream, and on to the east bank.

Her front side completely covered with mud, Amanda raised herself up, spat out some mud, and said, "Skedaddle?"

Watching Rachel's juicy rump disappear into the trees, Amanda shook her head.

"Rachel, you are absolutely the best! I'm still going to get you, but you are the best ever!"

When she had achieved some distance, Rachel stopped, leaned against a tree and looked back at the stream.

Rising as though she were a depiction of intelligent life emerging from the primal ooze, Amanda got to her feet.

Three more falls and awkward risings had exacerbated the pain in her ankle. Well, she had heard of Donovan McNabb, an American football quarterback, playing for an entire half of a game with a broken ankle and throwing several touchdown passes. She was at least tough enough to chase Rachel with the minor problem she had.

Well, maybe it wasn't so minor, she thought once she put some weight on it. It might make sense to take the time to bind the ankle, but that would tip Rachel off to the injury. No, put your endorphins to work. Rachel awaits.

Amanda stooped, causing uncomfortable pressure on her ankle, to pick up what was left of Rachel's spear. The saw cut had been made so that only about the center fourth of the wood was still intact. There was a jagged bump where the break had occurred and Amanda could feel that her skin had indeed been broken. She reflected that another, more blood-thirsty runner like, for example, Sajida, the Yorkshire quarry who liked to hunt the hunters, would have made the cut so that the spear would have broken with a sharp point. Sajida would certainly have carved points on both ends of the spear. If she had been laying face down in the mud with Sajida on her back, Amanda realized that she might never have stood up.

She didn't want to take the time to wash herself completely, but she did wash the mud from her face and check her new injury. Opening her shirt, Amanda saw that she would have a very nasty bruise. If Rachel did wind up with her hide, there would be some flaws. Without such well developed pectoral muscles and reasonably generous feminine endowments, she could easily have broken a rib.

Amanda spotted Rachel hiding behind a tree about thirty yards away. Confident that she could outrun her quarry, even with a bad ankle, Amanda wasn't quite ready to put that to the test. Pretending not to see Rachel, she walked slowly in the right direction, feigning difficulty in finding a trail.

Rachel wasn't about to be fooled. She broke cover and ran, not as fast as possible, though. She did want to see if Amanda did, indeed, have an injury that would slow her down. Looking back, she saw that Amanda was keeping up nicely, but not overtaking her. In the few steps that Amanda had taken after she left the stream, Rachel thought the huntress was favoring her left foot slightly more than before. If Amanda had hurt her foot, ankle, or knee earlier, was there anyway to make the injury even more of a problem?

Rachel's log-ravine trap was on the west side of the stream. In order to take advantage of it, Rachel would have to take the chase back over the stream again. That should be easy enough to do.

Amanda could tell that Rachel was holding back a bit, probably conserving her energy and she decided to follow suit. She knew her ankle injury might be detectable, but there was no need to give away the exact degree of impairment. One viable strategy would be to let Rachel think her lead was secure and then overtake her in a sudden burst of speed.

After a few minutes of running, Rachel concluded that if Amanda's injury was severe enough to cause her to move this slowly, the huntress would have given up entirely. No, Amanda was probably hoping to lull her into a false sense of security. The question was, how much of the slackened pace was due to impairment and how much to fakery. The only thing to do was to lead Amanda back across the stream and hope she could gain enough of an advantage using her trap to get completely out of range.

I suppose this is one definition of a "cat and mouse" game, Rachel thought. The phrase brought immediately to mind the negative comments Amanda had once made about the cartoon characters Tom and Jerry. Amanda didn't care much for Sylvester and Tweety Pie, either. Rachel couldn't really disagree that those cartoons represented an inverted picture of reality.

Of course, Rachel thought, Amanda didn't say anything about Bugs Bunny. Nobody badmouths Bugs! He wasn't just another cute toon animal. Bugs was Till Eulenspiegel, Harlequin, Psuedolus, Loki. The eternal trickster triumphant.

Bugs wasn't portrayed as a tiny mouthful ready to be gulped down; he was almost always drawn as tall or taller than his antagonists. And he didn't have a tiny, squeaky, baby-talk voice. His Bronx/Brooklyn accent made him sound savvy.

As she ran, Rachel could visualize and hear Bugs saying, "I knew I should have taken a left turn at Albuquerque."

The thought suddenly struck her: was she getting a significant message from a cartoon rabbit? Well, why not?

If Amanda's left knee or ankle was giving her trouble, make her work those joints. Make her pivot on her left foot as much as possible.

Rachel made a sharp left turn. Looking back, she saw that Amanda was able to veer to the left rather than turn sharply. Not only would veering have less effect on a joint injury, but it would allow Amanda to close the gap between them by traveling the hypotenuse of a right triangle. If Rachel could make a very gradual counterclockwise arc, that should have some effect, but it would be better if she could risk letting Amanda catch up a little. It would be better still to let her catch up a lot, if there were a way to make sure that Amanda didn't suddenly increase her speed.

It was a little before seven o'clock. Just over three hours of hunting remained. With that much time, Amanda's greater stamina would definitely give her the edge. Rachel couldn't hope to stay ahead of her for three hours. I've got to come up with something, or I'm a dead duck, Rachel thought.

Duck?

Well, okay, that might work, but, first, let's get closer to my trap.

After Rachel had taken the chase to the west side of the stream, Amanda saw that she had stopped to take a drink and fill her water bottle at one of the orange coolers. What kind of ploy was this? She knows I'm back here. Time to start looking for a trap.

Best not to let Amanda get any closer than sixty or seventy feet, no matter how bad her ankle might be, Rachel decided.

Well, she's off and running again, Amanda thought. She's got to be wearing down a bit. I've got to wait for the right time. When I make my move, it could take its toll on my ankle and I might not get a second chance if I miss her the first time.

Both Rachel and Amanda knew that timing was everything.

Rachel began her series of left and right turns, designed to exacerbate Amanda's injury.

It didn't take Amanda any time at all to see what her quarry was up to. With the exception of the brief stop at the water cooler, the two women had been on the run for over forty-five minutes.

Rachel's got to be wearing down for real, Amanda thought. Time to go full tilt, overtake her and claim the fruits of victory. But, wait! What the hell is she doing now? Why is she running like that?

Rachel had begun to run in a slightly stooped position, as though she were trying to duck something.

Amanda felt at once she knew what was happening. Being clotheslined with something as thin and strong as fishing line while running could lead to decapitation. Amanda considered unsheathing her knife and running with it in front of her, but the theme of today's adventure seemed to be "Let's see how many times we can make Amanda fall down." No, the knife was a bad idea. Amanda began running stooped over in imitation of Rachel, only more so, due to her greater height.

Running bent over is uncomfortable and awkward and slow. Because Amanda had to bend more than Rachel, the effect was to keep the distance between the women approximately constant.

Rachel knew that it wouldn't take Amanda very long to realize that the threat of fish line strung between the trees at neck level for a person six feet tall was only a bluff. But the trick didn't have to last too long. They were now approaching the ravine partially bridged by the tipsy log Rachel had put in place earlier.

Well, this had better work. I'm just about out of tricks, Rachel thought as she stepped onto the log, made her way quickly to the end, and jumped the remaining four feet. She stumbled as she landed on the other side of the ravine. Nothing serious, unless her trick didn't work. She had, however, reopened the arrow wound on her side. Blood was flowing again.

Amanda hesitated when she came to the log. She could see that she would have to either do just as Rachel had done and make a jump or lose a few seconds going up and down the sides of the ravine. The idea didn't appeal to her. She'd have to time her steps carefully so that her right foot was both the last thing to touch the log and the first thing to hit the ground. Shouldn't really be a problem at all.

But it was.

Rachel smiled when she heard Amanda's exclamation of anger immediately followed by the sound of Amanda hitting the bottom of the ravine and the tilted log falling back into position.

Suddenly, Rachel saw a rabbit in her path. Not wanting to stop, Rachel shouted a warning at the bunny to move.

"Beep, beep!"

She looked at her watch. Seven-twenty. Time to run full tilt to the last place Amanda would think to look for her and just stay there until ten o'clock. Okay, one stop along the way to tend to her wound. She really didn't want to get an infection.

If I take one more fall, I'm going think I'm in a silent slapstick comedy, Amanda thought as she crawled out of the ravine. Give me a porkpie hat and call me "Buster."

This last spill had finally made her ankle almost too sore to walk on.

Rachel was completely out of sight.

It was time to put an end this chasing around, Amanda decided. Rachel was probably close to being worn out and she would be heading for a hiding place she had probably selected weeks ago. Wherever it was, it should be open enough that Amanda wouldn't be able to sneak up on her undetected. Being stealthy with a bad ankle was asking a little much anyway.

One good thing about this little chase, Amanda thought, was that it had ended almost where it began. Rachel's former island was only a few hundred feet away. And lying beside the stream was Amanda's bow and in the stream was one easy-to-find intact arrow. Rachel probably thought she was finished with having to worry about arrows. Well, the joke would be on her for a change.

Limping badly, Amanda made it to the stream, picked up her bow, and decided to take a few minutes to soak her injured ankle in the cool water. Slipping off her left shoe, she stepped into the water. Lord, that felt good. She looked at her watch. Twenty-six minutes before eight. Plenty of daylight left. Plenty of time to find Rachel and put an end to this farce. There would be a lot of disappointed people back at the lodge when Rachel didn't return after ten o'clock.

But first, find the arrow.

Gingerly, standing on her right foot, Amanda began to seek the arrow with left foot. It was a little late in the day to try balancing on one foot while bending over.

With some satisfaction, Amanda found the point of the arrow with the sole of her left foot.

Fine. Right where it should be.

Unfortunately, her right foot was resting on a rock that Rachel had thrown. The rock had not yet settled into the streambed, and it slipped just at the moment Amanda found the arrow.

"Son of a bitch!" Amanda felt the point of the arrow pierce the sole of her foot. She carefully lifted her foot out of the water, bringing the arrow with it. The wound was not deep, only about a quarter of an inch. The arrow was easily pulled out. Plenty of blood, but nothing too serious.

Amanda was able to hop to the east bank of the creek where she had left her kit bag earlier and examine her wound.

Well, it would require a bandage but she had already planned to give her ankle a supportive binding. She wouldn't be able to get the shoe back on, but that was no problem She removed her shirt, tore it into strips, and bound her foot. The wound shouldn't slow her down any more than her already sore ankle. Still a nuisance, though.

She'd need something to use as a staff or walking stick. Looking around, she saw the perfect thing: what was left of Rachel's spear. Amanda smiled at the irony that Rachel's own weapon would be used to track her down.

Her bow and quiver holding a single arrow and a left shoe on her back, her kit bag strapped to her hip. Amanda leaned on the spear/staff and went into deep concentration.

She reached out for Rachel's energy. Where was Rachel?

It only took a few moments for Amanda to sense that she knew exactly where Rachel was. Clever girl, again, Amanda thought. That should be about the last place that I would expect you to be.

Amanda began to move.

Five minutes before eight. Here I come, Rachel. I hope you don't decide to make a fight of it. I hope as soon as you see me with an arrow pointed at your heart, you'll just give it up and come quietly. We can still have some togetherness time. I can still find out what motivated you to stay with this. It was good plan, the best I've ever had pulled on me.

It wouldn't hurt anything to stop and put some antibiotic ointment and a real bandage on this foot. A little ibuprofen wouldn't be bad, either. And it's right on the way to where you are.

At seven minutes after eight, Amanda arrived at the cabin where she had taken Rachel years ago to clean her up and spend some quality time before killing and eating her. She should be able to find a first aid kit containing pain meds and antibiotic.

Or maybe only the pain meds were left!

Approaching the cabin, Amanda's keen sense of smell had picked up something odd and she saw the cause of it lying on the ground in front of the cabin door. An empty tube, completely flattened. This was all that was left of the antibiotic.

The stuff smelled worse than boiled cabbage. With a scent like this, there should be no problem at all tracking Rachel.

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to try to stay too healthy.

Speaking of staying healthy, Amanda found that she was feeling sore and tired and hot, maybe even feverish.

Well, it had been that kind of a day.

When she caught Rachel, she just might tie her up and save her for morning. Long day, rather tired.

The ointment. Thank you, Rachel! At least you made the last part of this easy.

There's a faint trace of the smell coming from the north. One of Rachel's false trails, no doubt.

But there's a lot more headed in the direction I was planning to go anyway.

Nothing like some sensory perception to confirm intuition.

Forgetting about the ibuprofen, Amanda took off, following the stronger scent.

In a few minutes, she had almost arrived at the clearing where she had planned to kill Rachel after their last hunt.

Amanda approached carefully. No point in spooking Rachel. She would probably be sitting in the middle of the clearing, trying to watch in all directions at once, not suspecting that Amanda had rearmed herself.

Amanda leaned her staff against a tree, nocked her arrow, and stepped quietly into the clearing.

What she saw...

"NO!"

Amanda howled. Stunned. Disbelieving.

How could this have happened?

What kind of agent could have presumed to interfere in the contest between the two women?

How could it end like this?