Rapidly approaching from the direction of the trees she saw the ‘weaponless’ hunter closing on her. As soon as she managed to get to her feet, before she could take a step, a third bolo wrapped her legs. All of them young women, all of them shapely, none of them struck her as particularly athletic. The ground was rough, but hours of running on the grainy sand of the beach had toughened Jen’s feet, and she made good speed through the knee-high grasses. If the ‘prey’ could reach the edge of the estate (which was said to be about fifty square miles in size), she would be free. Jennifer swung her arms to loosen up and jogged in place to warm up her legs. Maybe he had something different planned for her. Jen knew that she was leaving the hunters a clear trail of bloody footprints, but there was nothing that she could do about it. All of them were clearly struggling with the terrain and the rough ground on the doubtless tender soles of their feet.
