Chase dropped down from the lowest branch about twenty feet into a field of tall weeds. She landed on her feet, winced in pain, then limped out into the field a bit. She turned around and craned her neck upwards, watching Junie Grievance's obscenity-laden descent.

Eventually, the cowgirl reached the bottom branch. “That's right,” she panted. A bruise was forming on her cheek. “You just stay right there. No more runnin'.” She walked to the edge of the branch, then jumped off. “We're gonna settle this like-”

She landed in the weeds. Her mouth immediately snapped shut in shock. Then, it opened again, not to finish her thought, but to unleash a shrill, piercing scream.

Nettles. Chase had led her into a field of stinging nettles.

Her bare legs felt the effect instantaneously, every square inch of them lighting up with a pain like being stabbed all over by thousands of tiny, burning hot hypodermic needles.

She looked around frantically. There was nothing but nettles for hundreds of yards around. Then, she looked up at the tree. Desperately, she waded over to it, her legs an inferno of torture.

She tried to climb it. But the branch was twenty feet up, and the tree's bark was too clean, too smooth, to climb.

Chase watched her pathetic scrabblings with something approaching pity. “Sorry,” she said. “Burn plant hurt for few days, but no real harm.” She looked around, then scratched her head. “In small dose, at least.”

Junie Grievance turned on her angrily. Chase was standing among the horrible plants unharmed. Her pants, though bloodstained, fully covered her. “You...you fucking bitch...” she groaned, voice strangulated. Though her mind was fractured with agony, she still had enough processing power to realize that this had been Chase's plan all along. She threw her knife, but Chase easily dodged it. It flew into the sea of nettles and was lost. “Fucking...bitch.”

Unimpressed, Chase started calmly walking away through the plants. She looked over her shoulder at Junie Grievance's reddened legs, already bubbling with welts, and added, “Next time you in woods? No wear skirt.”

This was the last insult Junie Grievance could bear. Gritting her teeth, she dashed at Chase, pumping her inflamed legs through the pain.

Her foot snagged on an old root.

She tripped and disappeared beneath the ocean of green's placid surface.

A fresh wave of screams followed Chase to shore.

.........

Kirk was leaning back on the couch, trying to smell his own breath by breathing into his hand, when he heard footsteps returning from the bathroom.

“O-oh, hey, Alicia!” he said quickly, putting his hand down on the armrest. “Ready for more Party Bros?”

“Oh? You an' Alicia were watchin' Party Bros? Ah jest love that movie!” said a girlish, saccharine, southern voice.

Startled, Kirk looked over his shoulder. There was Mary Rose, looking as cute as she could, hands bashfully placed behind her back, looking around his living room with wide, innocent eyes.

“Uh, y-yeah!” he said, surprised. He looked at her uniform, then said, trying to sound more friendly than confused, “You're one of those Lawman Creek cheerleaders...what are you doing in my house?”

“Oooh!” chirped Mary Rose, looking at his television. She had affected a very different sort of voice from her usual tough, aggressive one. She sounded higher-pitched, with a lyrical, sugary exaggeration to her usual drawl that gave it a sort of melodic cuteness, as well as some distinct hints of airhead. “You have y'self one o' them fancy flat TVs? Golly sakes! Louise told me 'bout those but ah didn't believe her! Ah thought she was pullin' mah leg!”

“No, no, they're...real,” said Kirk, still lost. “Who, uh, who are you? Where's Alicia?”

“Ah'm Mary Rose. Mary Rose Valentine,” said Mary Rose sweetly. “Y'see, mah car just happened ta break down as ah was drivin' past, an' Alicia volun, volun...” She made a show of pretending to engage herself in deep thought. “...volun... she tole me she was willin' to drive downtown an' git a tow truck. She's a real nice gal.”

“Why wouldn't she just call them?” asked Kirk.

“Oh, um...Well, y'see...” hesitated Mary Rose. “She, uh, well, rather than ask somebody to come out here and tow me, it's cheaper to just rent the truck and tow yourself.”

Kirk regarded this explanation with suspicion. “Huh. I didn't know that,” he said finally.

“Yep, ah didn't either. 'parently it's just lahk U-Haul!” agreed Mary Rose. “An' Alicia, well, she knows my family doesn't make too much in the way o' money...so she said it was no problem!”

The quarterback had an idea. “Hey, I know a little about cars. Maybe I could take a look at it, and you wouldn't have to spend a dime,” said Kirk. He stood and started walking quickly toward the door.

“N-n-now Kirk, don't be silly!” panicked Mary Rose, blocking him, putting her hands on his chest in an attempt to hold him back. “You don't need ta go to all that trouble for li'l ol' me!”

This was enough to stop him. She looked at his chest, felt his strong pecs beneath her hands, and decided she wanted to leave them there. She looked up at him with those eyes of hers.

“Y'know, you sure played great last naht,” she sang. “The way you threw that lil' ol' ball left my head a-spinnin'.”

Kirk gave a clueless grin. “Hey, thanks!” he said brightly. “You've got some good guys on your team, too!”

“You must practice real hard,” charmed Mary Rose, twirling the tip of her left ponytail around her finger. “Ah kin tell you're a man who takes...VERY good care of himself.”

Kirk gave a humble laugh. “Nahhh, not really. I've just been really focusing on my passing game this season.”

Mary Rose fabricated a very ditzy giggle, and asked, “Passin' game? Why, whatevah do you mean?”

Kirk wasn't sure if she was joking. “Uhhh, you know. Working on my passing.” In response, she just gave him a blank stare, so he mimed a pass. “You know, throwing the ball? You're a cheerleader and you really didn't know that?”

“Who, meeee? Ah don't know nothin' about nothin'!” she innocently answered. She moved closer to him and leaned her body against his, resting her head on his strong chest. “But ah'd just love it if you could tell me all about it. Just the two of us.”

Any opportunity to talk about football brought a song to Kirk's heart. “Well, okay! Sure!” he said helpfully. He led her to the couch and they sat down. “Now then, the science of the pass might seem simple, but as with any skill, the pursuit of mastery reveals boundless complexities. To begin, let me tell you about the most important factor in determining a good or bad pass: the grip.”

Mary Rose snuggled up with him. “Oh my, ah'm all ears,” she said deviously.

.........

The sound of gunfire carried easily through the still, cool mountain air. Lila Jean and Louise stopped their hike and looked. “Shoot. Those were close,” said Louise, stepping to the edge of the cliff and looking out over it. They had not reached the other side of the gorge yet and were still in the process of searching the top of it. “Think it was the other group? Or Junie Grievance an' Hepzibelle?”

Lila Jean spat. “Reckon it's th' other group. Sounded close, but not that close.” She paused. “Let's keep goin'. No matter what it was, that Chase gal will expect us t' come runnin' to the sound. Best f'r us not to do what she thinks we will.”

“She ain't that smart,” said Louise. “Not lahk we are.”

“Ah ain't so sure,” said Lila Jean thoughtfully. “Normally, we would've found 'er by now. Ah reckon she knows more 'bout the woods, 'bout huntin' an' hidin', than we think. It is mah assershin that from now on, we should hunt her the way we'd hunt each other. If that makes sense.”

It did make sense to Louise, but she didn't see how it applied to her. She tangled with everybody pretty much the same way. It also wasn't news to her. She knew Chase was strong, she had tasted it.

She was just about to remind Lila Jean of this fact when the clatter of a tumbling rock echoed up from the gorge. Lila Jean and Louise looked at each other, then both started towards the edge of the cliff.

“Hold on,” said Lila Jean, stopping her. “Wait here'n watch mah back.”

Louise did so, turning away from the cliff and slowly scanning the woods, finger on her trigger. Lila Jean advanced to the cliff edge and cautiously pointed her barrel down at the dry creek bed below, looking for a sign of movement.

Whump! Something heavy slammed into Louise's upper back, felling the towering girl. She had the presence of mind to hold onto the gun, but this prevented her from adequately breaking her fall. She hit her chin hard on the rocky ground, making her see stars. Even after she rolled over and saw Chase, she was too dazed to realize that the thing that hit her was Chase's foot, in a diving kick from a high tree branch.

Hearing this sound, Lila Jean whirled around just in time to see Chase hurl a tomahawk at her. The weapon spiraled quickly through the air towards her. The glasses-wearing girl sighted it fast and fired, blowing it out of the air. The ground was sprinkled with a shower of splinters, and the stone blade bounced harmlessly past her feet and into the gorge.

Chase pulled another tomahawk from her belt, but by this point Louise was back on her feet. Tossing her own gun aside and grinning maliciously, she rushed Chase from the right.

Chase swung the tomahawk downward at Louise, expecting the girl to dodge and halt her charge. Instead, Chase was shocked when Louise lifted her arm, caught the blade squarely on her forearm, and kept going without so much slowing down. The brunette hammered all her rampaging force into the wounded blonde, wrapping her arms around her and tackling her to the ground.

Stunned, Chase struggled onto her back as Louise's hands closed around her wrists. Blood was oozing in spurts from the deep gash Chase had chopped into her, but Louise did not seem to care or even notice. Chase still had the tomahawk clutched in her right hand, and she made some attempts to swing it or hammer with it, but Louise's arms were locked, firmly resisting all of Chase's efforts. Chase tried to roll or kick her off, but Louise was firmly straddling Chase's waist, and Chase might as well have been cemented to the ground for how much luck she had. The girl's strength and mass were overpowering.

Louise felt it was a good idea to disarm Chase but didn't want to risk letting go one of the fighter's hands in order to do it. Instead, she lowered her head and bit down on Chase's wrist.

Her teeth punctured skin, ground at muscle and sinew, but Chase held on. She couldn't drop her weapon in this situation.

Louise bit down harder, and Chase squeezed her eyes shut in pain. She felt her wrist bones strain, and then, one of them snapped. Chase did something she almost never did: she cried out in agony.

She dropped the tomahawk. Louise raised her head. Chase's blood dripped down her chin. Louise licked her lips. “Gee. Even stronger when it's fresh. Ah knew it, ah tole 'em you were strong, that ah could taste it. You are a real monster, you are vicious. You don't got prey blood. You got huntin' blood, killin' blood, predditer blood.” She sounded thrilled. Chase's wrist was throbbing in pain, her head light. She was having a hard time focusing on the face of the girl who had pinned her—the faint smile, the half-open, heavily ringed eyes.

Louise leaned down close to Chase and whispered in her ear, “Yer not a city girl, are ya? It's okay, ah won't tell nobody. Ah can tell you didn't have no soft, easy, city life growin' up. You grew up rough an' wild. An ah mean real rough. Yer more beast than human.” She said it as a compliment. Almost deferentially. She sat back up and looked down at Chase. Her tone changed to one of pity. “Wish ah coulda got t' you afore you got all banged up. Woulda liked to see what kinda strugglin' a critter like you would give me at yer best. Oh well.”

Lila Jean had her rifle aimed right at them. She spat. “Louise, pardon mah language, but confound you. Ah almost had her.”

“What do ya mean you almost had her? Ah'm holdin' her precisely so you can shoot her,” said Louise. “You may kill her at your leisure.”

“If ah wanted leisure ah'd be home sippin' a beer,” replied Lila Jean. “Ah am here for one thing, an' that's feudin'. Now let go o' her an' let me feud with her.”

Louise hesitated. She and Chase stared at each other. “Ah ain't never let go o' someone who was still in condition t'fight before,” said Louise uncertainly. “S'pose she socks me?”

Lila Jean spat again. “S'pose she does?” she countered, disinterested.

Louise continued to watch Chase for a second, waiting for an opening. But Chase seemed to be slowly recovering her senses, now that the initial burst of pain was ebbing. As she held Chase's wrists, she could feel the blonde's pulse pounding, that strong blood stirring, hungry for a chance to strike back.

Louise looked at Lila Jean. “No. Ah don't wanna.”

Adjusting her hat, Lila Jean sighed. “Fine, 'fraidy cat. Have it yer way. Not like it's mah feud or anythin'.”

She walked over to Chase and pointed the rifle at her head. “Any last words, you Campbell rat?”