Although Rachel slept better after Amanda's temperature began to go down, it was far from a restful night. Nevertheless, when a nurse came in and informed Rachel that Amanda would not need constant monitoring any longer, Rachel elected to remain until the huntress awakened.

Rachel had a very persistent nagging idea that she should ask Amanda something, but she didn't have the foggiest idea what. Perhaps after she got some decent sleep in her own bed, she would have a clearer head.

A little after seven o'clock, Amanda began to awaken. It took her a moment to remember where she was and why she was there. She looked over at Rachel and smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" Rachel asked.

"I've been better. I didn't keep you awake all night with my rantings, did I?"

"Oh, no. You were a fine patient."

"You know, Rache, sometimes when a person is feverish, she might say things in her sleep and it might sound like she's talking about something that really happened when, in fact, she's just remembering a dream or something from a movie. You have heard that, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry. I wouldn't put more stock in anything someone said under those circumstances than warranted."

"Good." Amanda seemed relieved. "Uh, thanks for staying with me."

"No problem. However," Rachel said as she arose to her feet, "I should probably go change into my regular clothes before Greta comes in and starts talking about dogs and rabbits. I should also go home and give my boss a call and tell her that I'll be returning to work. I'll come back later, if that's all right with you."

"I'm your prize," Amanda said. "You don't really have to ask me. But since you did, yes, I'd like some company later."

"Amanda, I intend to treat you with the respect you gave me when our positions were reversed. As long as you've invited me, though, I'll be back." Rachel chuckled. "Maybe after last night, I should start saying that with an Austrian accent."

"And lower your voice a couple octaves."

Rachel approached the bed. There had been such a change in their roles, that she felt awkward doing almost anything. She bent over, but hesitated before kissing Amanda on the forehead. "See you later."

"Maybe you should say 'Hasta la vista, baby.'" Amanda did a credible impersonation of Arnold Schwarzenegger, although perhaps after a few weeks of hormone therapy.

Rachel was almost out the door when she remembered to ask Amanda:

"Oh, is there anything I can bring you when I come this evening?"

"Hm. If you don't mind, could you stop by my place and pick up a few things for me?"

"Sure. What do you want?"

"Oh, just pack a little bag for me. Some toiletries, a few things from my dresser - things that you might like to have yourself if you were going to be in the hospital for, well, I imagine a week. And maybe you could get into my closet and pick out at least one outfit for me. Make it something you would like to see me in, the way you'd like to remember me. For when the doctor says I'm well."

Rachel nodded.

"There is a box under my bed," Amanda went on. "Just some personal items I'd like to have. You can look inside to make sure there isn't any contraband in it."

Rachel nodded again. "Anything else?"

Amanda thought for a moment. "I have a video that I would like to watch. It's in the cabinet my vcr sits on. It's called 'Merlin.' A made-for-tv mini-series. Now, this is the original, as shown on the telly. I also have the shortened version that was released a few years later. I want the longer version. I'd like you to watch it with me, but if it isn't your sort of thing..."

"I'm sure I'll enjoy it very much. Oh, how will I get in?"

"Ask Greta to give you my keys from my box of valuables. If she hesitates, tell her to call me. Oh, and as long as you have my keys, you might as well drive my car, if you like."

"Amanda, you drive a Porsche. I only drive a Ford."

"Well, you might as well get used to it. I want you to have a lot more than just my bow," Amanda said. "And don't look at me like that. Somebody has to get what I won't need anymore. It's not like I have a lot of close friends, you know."

"Okay," Rachel agreed. No point in having an argument.

After she was dressed, Rachel decided to retrieve Amanda's bow and quiver.

Looking around the clearing that now had been the site of two important events in her relationship with Amanda, Rachel had the strong, strong feeling that the two of them would be back there again. Together.

As she passed the desk on her way out of the lodge, Greta asked her if she wanted to reserve the lodge for the banquet that had been mentioned.

The question took Rachel by surprise. She had never really expected that she would have the occasion to make this decision.

"Uh, I'm not sure that Amanda will be, uh, well by then," Rachel evaded.

"Oh," said Greta. "I'll ask Dr. Zimmerman then, if that's what it depends upon. We've already had requests for reservations."

"Well, there might be other factors besides Amanda's, uh, health. I'll get back to you." Rachel felt she should have added, as soon as possible, but she really didn't want to.

Rachel did accept Amanda's invitation to drive the Porsche, although she wasn't keen to do so: she didn't care much for the idea "to the victrix belong the spoils." It was a matter of appearing to be unappreciative in Amanda's eyes or opportunistic in the eyes of others. Amanda was more important.

Packing a hospital bag for Amanda wasn't difficult. She didn't need or use cosmetics. Her tastes in undergarments were surprisingly simple.

Picking out an outfit was a different matter. After much indecision, Rachel selected a leather hunting vest, denim shorts, and a white blouse. That was how she wanted to remember Amanda, but she also took a sky-blue jacket and slacks suit, a matching blouse, and black flats, in case Amanda would prefer something more dignified. Actually, Rachel wanted to remember Amanda however Amanda wanted to be remembered.

The video was right where Amanda said it would be. Rachel made sure that it was the longer version.

The box of personal items was the only thing that presented a problem.

There was no problem finding it. The problem was whether to open it.

Amanda had made a point of telling me I could check the contents, Rachel reminded herself Now, why would she say that if she didn't WANT me to look inside? If I don't check it, somebody else will, I'm sure. But, then, again, it is matter of her privacy. Is this a test? Will she ask me if I looked inside, if I didn't trust her? Oh, don't overthink this! The hunt is over. You've won. No more contest. No more battle.

Rachel opened the box.

And did not find much remarkable. Nothing really unexpected.

Some jewelry that probably had more sentimental value than monetary.

Photographs. She wouldn't know who was in them, anyway, even if she did look at them.

Letters. No matter how much she might second-guess Amanda, she wasn't going to read Amanda's mail.

Some transparent envelopes that seemed to contain hair. Labeled. She was sure that one of them bore the name "Rachel." She didn't look.

There were only two items that were unusual, but not unexpected. Two copies of the same edition of a book, The Wind in the Willows.

One of the copies showed signs of having been read many times. The other was practically pristine.

Rachel opened the second book. Looked on the inside cover. Read an inscription in neat but childish handwriting.

She took the box, the bag, the garments, and the video and left.

Rachel's first telephone call when she got home was to her employer's home. She received congratulations on her victory and was told that the work order to repaint her office would be canceled first thing Monday morning.

Her second call was to Colonel Stoneridge.

"Hello?"

"Hello, it's Rachel, sir."

"Oh, Rachel. Congratulations on your performance. Good show, my dear."

"Thank you." A pause. "Colonel, I mean, Stone, what do I do now?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Rachel. What do you do about what?"

"What do I do now that I've won?"

"I beg your pardon, Rachel, but isn't this something you've thought out already?"

"Well, no. Not completely, at least."

"But, Rachel, surely you have given some thought to the matter? I never pressed you for details, but, well, there has been talk of a banquet to be held next weekend. Now, surely that talk must have originated with you."

"Yes, it did. But, I never really planned on winning. Of course, I didn't plan on losing, either. I didn't plan on either. I mean, I never thought ahead to what would happen, what I would have to do if I won."

"I'm afraid that I don't understand, my dear." Stone was beginning to have difficulty keeping a tone of exasperation out of his voice. "How could you not anticipate the results of your winning?"

"I was trying to keep my concentration on the task of keeping myself alive. I didn't want to cloud my mind with any other issues."

"That's very, very admirable, I'm sure. Single-mindedness is, indeed, instrumental, if not essential, in successfully performing a difficult feat. However, a rational person can not ignore the fact that there are consequences, effects - even magickal children, if you like - of any act. How could you set your mind so that you could completely ignore that fact?"

"I, I don't know how I did it, sir." Rachel's voice trembled.

"Well, alright. That may be unfair question and, at this point, irrelevant. My next question is probably equally irrelevant, but I believe it is extremely fair, and I am burning with curiosity as to your answer. Why? Why, Rachel, would you set your mind to ignore the likely results of your actions?"

"It was a piece of advice I was given, sir, to the effect that one should not 'lust after results.'"

"'Lust after results'? I thought I explicity warned you not to... Rachel, where did you pick up such an idea?"

"From Amanda, sir."

"From Amanda Blake? She said that?"

"Well, not to me directly, no. It was repeated to me by another hunter who had been in conversation with Amanda before she went out to hunt me the first time. He said it was a sort of principle that she operated on in a hunt."

There was a full ten-second pause before Stone said, "Rachel, my dear. Perhaps you remember one of our earliest conversations in which I described the modern libertarian philosophy as having much in common with that of a chap named Alistair Crowley?"

"Yes, sir. And you told me that I shouldn't accept anything that came from him without critical thought."

"My darling Rachel, that business about not 'lusting after results' is, I believe, a direct quote from Crowley. It's certainly consistent with his outlook. From what I know of Amanda, I daresay that's where she got it from."

"Well, sir, that may be very true. But it isn't really helpful in deciding what I am to do now."

"Perhaps, in a rather harsh way, it might be. If Amanda were to wind up being killed because she babbled a half-quote from a jackanapes who took every care possible to see that he was regarded by some as the devil incarnate, then I'm afraid some would consider that she was being hoisted by her own petard. A classic case of a little knowledge being a dangerous thing, to quote Mr. Pope, only in this case, the snippet is dangerous to the person who dispensed it, not the person who absorbed it."

"Sir," Rachel protested, "it isn't Amanda's fault, really. I got the idea secondhand from a man named Dave. I never discussed the idea of lusting after results with Amanda herself. Perhaps if I had, she would have given me a better understanding."

"That may well be. Nevertheless, it is difficult to feel sympathy for Amanda. And many would be critical if you did."

"Are you saying that I must kill Amanda? That I have no choice?" Rachel really couldn't believe that the Colonel would take such a position.

"No, no. Of course not. You are a creature of free will, my dear. She is, as you have said, your prize. She is yours to do with as you please, within the restrictions of any previous agreements you made with her. You have aroused certain expectations, but the people who would be disappointed at not having the opportunity to see Amanda on a plate are not of great consequence. I understand that you intend, however, to do some good with the money that would be raised at such a affair, and I believe I know you well enough to say that backing out on such a commitment would have consequences for your self-esteem."

"That's true enough," sighed Rachel.

"Should you change your mind about the banquet, Rachel, there will be people who will ask, why bother to spare Amanda? Why not be rid of her? What good is she? What good does she do for anyone?"

"She's done me some good," Rachel said meekly.

"I know that she saved your life, but she was also the occasion for it being in jeopardy. She may have introduced you to some new ideas, but ideas are out there for the having. It may also be that you two have had pleasant times together, but you are a very charming young woman and I'm sure you would have had a wide variety of pleasant times without Amanda."

"That's quite possibly true," Rachel agreed.

"This is all very much of a piece, Rachel. I strongly believe that the answer to your present conundrum is to be found in your original motivation for drawing yourself and Amanda into the hunt. Rachel, what is Amanda to you? What has having known Amanda done for you that was so important and could not have been done by another? What has she done for you that made you feel compelled to keep her in your life? In other words, what good is Amanda to you?"

"I'll think on those things, sir." Rachel promised.

"I honestly believe, Rachel, that if you find answers for those questions, you will be able to resolve all the other issues involved."

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure that's true."

When Rachel had hung up the telephone, she reflected that, if she only knew what to ask Amanda, they could, together, figure out this puzzle and bring things to a happy conclusion, or at least something less than a tragedy.

But all she had been able to ask Amanda was what could she bring her when she returned to the hospital in the evening.

Rachel laid down for a nap. She was not disturbed, or enlightened, by dreams.

It almost felt odd to Rachel to be dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a white blouse when she returned to the lodge that evening to visit Amanda in the infirmary. In addition to everything that Amanda had asked for, Rachel had picked up some flowers for her prize.

"Hello," said Rachel as cheerfully as she could manage as she entered Amanda's room. "I hope you won't mind, but I brought you some... flow... ers."

Lying in her bed, Amanda was flanked by two huge floral displays.

"But I see you've all ready got some," Rachel added.

"Well, yours will be more appreciated," said Amanda. "One has to consider the source of a gift. These are from Richard."

"Oh, really," said Rachel, handing Amanda her box of personal belongings and setting the rest of her burdens on a dresser. "I take it a sincere apology came with them."

"Oh, yes," Amanda smiled. She held a handwritten letter in her hand.

"He must have been very sorry indeed, to have sent two bouquets."

"Actually, only one of them is for me. The other is for you. It also came with a note."

Rachel noticed an envelope at the base of the second vase.

"Can't imagine what he has to say." Rachel opened the envelope and began to read. After a few lines, she found herself sinking to the bedside chair, her mouth open in disbelief.

"What did he say?" Amanda was alarmed.

"Well," gulped Rachel, "in addition to an apology, this letter also contains a proposal. It concerns a hunt."

"Oh," said Amanda, "that should be no surprise. With the reputation you've gained, I'm sure you will be the most sought-after quarry in the history of the lodge among those hunters who want a challenge. I can't really imagine Richard in that group, though. You will probably be quite highly paid even for practice runs."

"That might be," said Rachel. "But this isn't a request for me to run as quarry. Apparently, he found the idea of wearing a deerskin jockstrap and running shoes rather exciting. He wants me to hunt him." She shook her head. "This is absurd!"

Amanda laughed. "You may find that your life has changed in many ways, Rachel. Does he suggest a hunt for blood or for some other stake?"

"He isn't specific about that. He says that the details can be arranged later. Well, I'm not doing it," Rachel declared, sticking the letter back under the vase. "Can you imagine? Somebody offering himself as quarry. Must be a bleeding nut case."

The two women realized simultaneously what Rachel had just said and they laughed heartily.

"Well, maybe not a nut case," said Rachel, "but of questionable judgment."

After the laughter subsided, Amanda asked, "Did you bring the video I asked for?"

"Oh, yes. Shall I put it in now?"

"In a moment," said Amanda. "Dr. Zimmerman came to seem me today. He's received results from my tests. He says that I should be fully recovered by Friday." A pause. "That means that the banquet could take place on Saturday."

"Oh."

"Rache, I don't want to press you, but I did tell you that I'm not good at being docile. I would hope that we could conclude this, well, shortly after the doctor says I would be fit for consumption."

"Don't worry, Amanda," Rachel said, trying not to be grim. "I won't keep you waiting any longer than necessary." She forced a smile. "Now, are we ready for a trip to Camelot?"

"Just put the tape in the vcr. I'll call the lounge and see if Cheryl can bring over a large bowl of popcorn.

Rachel wasn't surprised, of course, that Amanda had a fondness for the Arthurian legend. There were so many, many thousands of things that she didn't know about Amanda. The two women were, in so many ways, almost total strangers. Intimate strangers, of course.

The "Merlin" video, made in the 1990s, was enjoyable (especially for the special effects), although there was plenty about the production to object to. The script played rather loosely with the legend, as most people are familiar with it: for example, the Lady of the Lake was made sister and opposing force to Mab. Mab is usually thought of as the benign queen of the fairies, but she made out to be the evil force that brought down Camelot in this production. Both Mab and Merlin performed some despicable acts and justified them by saying, "The end justifies the means." That might be considered anachronistic, as all this supposedly took place many centuries before Niccolo Machiavelli suggested that as the ideal by which a prince should live, but then he probably didn't originate the phrase. Of course, the Arthurian legend has been retold by so many authors, poets, playwrights, and movie-makers (all with their own agendas to promote), that faulting a version of the tale as not being "accurate" is almost absurd.

The performances of the actors were varied quality. Sam Neill as Merlin, as might be expected, gave the strongest performance in the production. Sir John Gielgud's name was shown in the credits only for slightly less time than his character appeared on the screen. Miranda Richardson overflowed with theatrical evil as Mab. Isabella Rosselini was highly sympathetic as Nimue, Merlin's true love.

At first, Rachel wasn't sure why Amanda wanted her to watch the video, until an interesting twist took place in one of the story's several sub-plots. Comedian Martin Short did an unexpectedly good job in the role of Frik, a gnome who befriends Arthur's half-sister and unwitting lover, Morgan Le Fey. When Mab kills Morgan in order to have complete control over Mordred, the illegitimate son of Arthur and Morgan, Frik becomes enraged, mostly at his own lack of power to strike back at Mab. Frik, who's nature is far from violent, becomes a warrior in Arthur's army and finds that he must learn to kill human beings. Frik doesn't care much for being a killer; he finds it distasteful and simply mean, but he does understand that he is serving a purpose. Frik grows into the role of killer as it has been thrust upon him by fate.

Rachel noticed Amanda watching her during the scene (omitted in the shortened video release) in which Frik laments his new status as killer. Amanda mentioned that this particular scene was cut from the shorter version.

Okay, if a gnome (actually he seemed more elfish than gnomish) can do it, well, so can I, thought Rachel. Amanda is trying to give me all the help she can. She doesn't want this to be any harder for me than it has to be. She certainly didn't expect this outcome and is probably sure that I didn't either. Well, obviously, I didn't - if I had, I might have been at least somewhat prepared. So, helping me to rise to the occasion will be Amanda's last gift to me - that and a Porsche, I guess.

Amanda's gifts to me. Beyond my life, beyond my increased sexual repertoire - what else is there? I bet Amanda has a lot to give. She has a lot of power. I don't think it would be too far out of line to even say she's magickal. Well, very loosely speaking, she is. Not like Merlin, here in the video, but she has had a transforming effect on me, and that is what magick is really about, I think - transformation. She wanted to transform me into her food. Instead, she transformed me into a bisexual female with fatal fantasies. Probably not the greatest trick in the world. Really, I'm sure she just triggered things inside me that were there all along. Maybe.

The video ended in a very touching, romantic manner. Merlin and Nimue have grown quite old when they are finally reunited by Frik. The lovers both lament the years they have been apart and wish that they could have the time back. Merlin says, "I think I have one last trick." He then makes a simple gesture, transforming them.

Once again they are young and beautiful and as they look at each other with familiar love and renewed lust, Merlin announces, "There's no more. That's the end of magic."

Hm, Rachel wondered. Two ways to take that last sentence. He could have been simply repeating the idea that he had used up the last of his magick. But the sentence could also mean this is the purpose (as in "the end justifies the means") of magick.

Interesting idea. The purpose of magick being to restore youthfulness. Physically? Hm. That would be nice. Emotionally? Also nice and maybe realistic. In attitude? Also very nice and quite realistic.

It was fear of being thought prematurely middle-aged that got me into this whole mess to begin with. Damn near got me killed. I was afraid of growing old. More than anything else in the world, I didn't want to grow old. Ha! Amanda almost took care of all my worries about growing old in a very, very literal way. One of many, many things that a dead person doesn't have to worry about is growing old.

Well, I'm glad I grew out of that! I haven't really had that problem since the hunt with Amanda. I was almost as if I had been magically transformed. Made me appreciate life and made me look forward to the next stage because I almost lost the chance for that next stage. Also, that experience was so exciting and the memories are so vivid that every time I think about that day, I just feel, oh, like I'm right back there with Amanda. Hiding in the trees, running through the woods, in the cabin with Amanda, in the clearing with Amanda, young and beautiful and sexy and excited and passionate. Forever! Ah!

"Rache, you've got the remote control," Amanda said. "Can you rewind the tape?"

Rachel looked at Amanda and smiled warmly.

Suddenly, thoughts that had been on the edge of her consciousness began to cascade into Rachel's awareness, arranging themselves in a neat, perfect order. All of the answers were clear. She understood, not only why she had done was she had, but what she should do in the immediate future, for Amanda and for herself. "Sure."

"What did you think of the show? Not the best I've ever seen, but I rather like it. Mab is such a splendidly evil bitch. Do you think maybe I identify with her and that's why I like the movie?" A self-depreciating laugh.

"I think it was a lovely movie. It gave me a whole new slant on things."

"Oh," Amanda said uncertainly.

"Amanda, I've decided that I am going to leave town and visit a friend to prepare for, well, what is to come."

"Ah."

"I will probably be gone until Friday, Amanda."

"Oh."

Rachel smiled with warmth and sensuality. "Something I have always admired about you was the way that, even though you had captured me and intended to kill me and eat me, you gave me a choice as to whether we had sex or not. When I was surprised, you seemed offended. You said you were not a rapist."

"I'm not," Amanda said.

"I'm not either," said Rachel. "So, as much as I would like to take leave of my prize in a way that I hope will leave her feeling appreciated and highly valued, I'm going to ask your permission, just as you would ask for mine." Rachel moved to the door, taking her chair with her. "So, if I may, I would like to make love to you before I go."

"Well, I am still a bit under the weather, but, yes, you have my permission."

"Good," said Rachel. "Thank you." She braced her chair against the door. "I don't want us to be disturbed as I take leave of my prize. And, as for your incapacitation, don't worry about it." Rachel began to undress. "Sometimes a person should learn to just lay back and be appreciated. Take it easy. Relax."

Amanda watched Rachel as she neared her bed.

"So, why don't you do that? Just lie back, relax, and let me appreciate you."

"Okay."

Rachel raised the sheet that covered Amanda and eased down beside her.

Over two hours later, having dressed and removed the chair from blocking the door, Rachel bent down, kissed Amanda on the lips, and said, "Get well. I will return on Friday."

Alone, after Rachel left, Amanda reflected that being Rachel's prize was not without its upside. Pity it couldn't last longer, but good things never did, it seemed.

The next day, Rachel placed several phone calls, including one to her employer to ask for another week of holiday and one to Marsha Dillon.

Her last call before leaving on her journey was to Greta at the lodge to finalize arrangements for the banquet. She did not plan to keep Amanda waiting long after her return.