Morale in the troop was not high.

Their number had been reduced to nine; in the days since Pi's death, at least half a dozen new girls had been released by the rangers into the woods. They had not succeeded in making contact with any of them. One had disappeared; they were unsure about whether she had joined one of the other groups or had been taken.

Five of the newcomers they did know about. As was so heartbreakingly common, they'd fallen victim to the hunters in their first few days. Inexperienced and fearful, they were much easier targets than the girls of the troops, and the hunters were for the most part not even aware of the difference. Sunni kept trying to rally them, but she wasn't having much success--especially since the other girls were all aware that she was still mourning Pi.

And, in sharp contrast to Melanie's first few days with the troop, their luck lately was not at all good. Less than a week after Pi's death, they lost Juana, the Mexican teenager. The girls had scattered to their hiding places when they'd spotted a hunter in the woods, a hunter who'd picked up their trail; but Juana had twisted her ankle running and hadn't been able to reach hers quickly enough. From her own place of concealment Melanie watched as a tall blond hunter relentlessly closed on the limping girl. As she tried to make her way up a small hill, he drew his bow and took careful aim; the arrow flashed through the air and struck her in the back of her left thigh. She cried out and tried to struggle onwards, but it was hopeless. Not bothering to take another shot, the big blond hunter overtook her in a matter of minutes.

Juana struggled a little when he caught her ankle with his hand, but then, knowing it was hopeless, she gave up. She rolled over onto her side, pushed her long dark hair out of her face, and looked up at him with soulful dark eyes. Her face was achingly lovely, her lips very full and her nose tiny.

"My running days are over, Senor," she whispered. "I am yours..."

The big man grinned and nodded. "Yes, you are," he told her. Holding her down by her shoulder, he drew his knife.

Nodding, Juana closed her eyes and pushed her chest up a little. "My heart is here, Senor..." she told him hopefully. She tipped her head back, too. "Or you could slit my throat..." She opened her eyes. "My throat is very soft, your knife would go through it very easily..."

"Forget about it." He seemed to consider his options for a moment, then apparently decided Juana wasn't injured badly enough to trust. "It ain't the way I wanna do this." He put the knife back in its scabbard, and, using a coil of rope hanging from his belt, proceeded to tie her wrists and ankles tightly. Evidently still hoping for a quick merciful death, she didn't struggle with him at all.

Once she was tied, he rolled her over and drew the knife again. Sitting on the calf of her left leg, he calmly began cutting into her leg alongside the buried arrow. She screamed and squirmed but he ignored her. Slicing deep into her slim thigh, he cut the arrow free from her flesh.

Then he rolled her onto her back, lifted her head, wound his fingers into her hair, and pulled her head up a little. "Please, Senor," she begged again, apparently unable to follow the unwritten rules Jill had taught her so long ago. "Kill me first, por favor, kill me quick..."

He grinned. "Oh, I'll kill you all right, babe." Looking into her eyes, he stabbed her in her belly, down low. Her eyes flew wide open and she leaned forward toward him as the blade sank deep. "How's that feel, babe?" he asked. "Feel good? It sure does feel good to me!"

She gasped; he pushed the blade deeper. "Senor, oh... oh, senor, please, por favor..." Smiling, he forced her head back and pushed the blade on in, as far as possible. Then he paused, just holding the knife inside her, feeling it move slightly as she trembled.

"I really like that," he told her, holding the knife's handle while the blade remained in her gut. "I really like feeling you shaking. Does it hurt, babe? Does it hurt real bad?"

She gasped for breath. "Si, senor," she answered after a moment. "It hurts very bad..."

"Good." Putting his hand in the middle of her chest and holding her down with it, he pulled it out of her. To Melanie's amazement, he then sat down on the ground beside her and, watching her, casually lit a cigarette.

Juana, trembling, looked over at him. "Please," she begged, her voice weak. "Please, finish it..." Melanie studied the Hispanic girl's face and eyes. It wasn't so much the pain, she decided; it was the terror. Juana simply wasn't able to control her fear.

And it was just as obvious that the hunter who'd taken her was enjoying her distress, although Melanie couldn't know if he understood the source of it. "Soon enough, babe," he told her. He languidly finished his cigarette and flipped the butt away. Standing up, he went to his pack and took out another length of rope. Finding a suitable tree nearby, he threw one end of it over a low-hanging branch. Leaving it hanging, he returned to Juana, picked her up effortlessly, and carried her to the tree. Laying her down on the ground, he untied her ankles and retied them to a heavy stick so that her legs were widely spread. After tying an end of the rope to the center of the stick, he unceremoniously hauled her up. He adjusted her so that the height of her head was at his groin when he was standing, then tied off the other end.

Then he unzipped his pants and flopped out his penis. "Suck it, babe," he told Juana. "Suck it good and I might give you what you want."

She complied instantly, although it was difficult for her to get his cock into her mouth with her hands still bound, and her struggles were obviously causing her pain--from the severe wound in her thigh, the hole in her belly, and the ropes that were already cutting into her slim ankles. The big blond man laughed at her troubles and did not move to help her, but his expression became serious after she'd finally caught his cock and had begun sucking on it. As she sucked him he stroked her body lightly, concentrating on the area around the still-bleeding wound in her belly. The knife was still in his hand but he didn't touch her with it.

Perhaps ten minutes later, without climaxing, he pulled his cock away from her. Juana looked startled, but her expression changed dramatically just seconds later--when the big man began forcing his knife down into her vagina.

Juana screamed in agony and began thrashing in her restraints. Ignoring her completely, the blond man continued to slide the knife in; blood welled up and out, streaming down over her belly, breasts, and face. "You like that, babe?" the hunter asked. He leaned forward and licked her clitoris through the streaming blood, smearing it on his face.

Say yes, Melanie urged her silently. Say yes, tell him you love it. We don't want this one coming back...

But Juana was unable to do anything except squirm in pain and scream. Stepping away from her, the hunter left her with the knife standing, driven to the hilt, in her vagina. Weeping and twisting her body in pain, Juana incoherently begged for release. The blond man stood watching her for a few minutes, then drew another, much smaller, knife from his pocket.

Returning to her, he grabbed one of her thighs. "Well, babe," he said, "let's see how you like this." He punched the point of the little knife into her already blood-matted pubic hair. She gave a hoarse cry and squirmed again; again ignoring her cries, the hunter started pulling the knife downwards, using a short in-and-out motion, sawing her belly open. Juana screamed at him in Spanish, gibbering, but he kept right on slitting her abdomen open until he'd reached her sternum. Her intestines, themselves cut and bleeding, bulged into the slit. The hunter put the small knife away and pushed his fingers hard into the incision he'd just made. Grabbing the skin and muscle on each side, he pulled the slit open, and her intestines spilled out of her, hanging between her breasts.

Then, leaving Juana to moan and grunt in agony, he stepped away again. After wiping his hands on his pants, he lit another cigarette and sat down on a nearby rock. Languidly, he started masturbating.

"That's it, babe," the blond hunter said. "I'm done with you. You can die now whenever you want to."

Incredulous, Melanie and the others watched as the hunter, watching the suffering teenager closely, took his time masturbating. Juana, dangling upside down with her entrails hanging out of her and a knife standing in her vagina, groaned, wept, and squirmed, obviously in terrible pain, for a long time. Then--after more than an hour--she started fading in and out of consciousness. At times she'd come around and gibber for a while in Spanish; and other times she just hung there, inert. The smiling hunter seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.

And, gradually, the day began to draw to a close, the time for the afternoon siren to sound wasn't far away. Melanie, who'd been hoping to get some sort of opportunity to help Juana in some way--she'd been holding a large rock for some time, wondering if she'd have the courage to dash the Mexican girl's brains out with it--didn't offer any protest when Audra reminded her in a soft whisper that it was time to go. She hated to leave with Juana still alive, but she was inured to the ways of the Preserve now. There were no choices. With a final glance back at her suffering companion, she followed the others as they trekked back to the village. The next morning, when they returned, the hunter was gone and Juana's body was still hanging in the same place, but her head was missing. They never did find out what had been done with it. A trophy, perhaps, for the cruel blond hunter's den.

Lila, the Pawnee Indian girl, was in particular strongly affected by Juana's death; the two had been close, and Lila seemed moody and withdrawn after the incident. Melanie and the others would have spent more time trying to console her, but, just two days later, the rangers advised the girls--who now numbered only eight--that another party of hunters had bought the right to stay in the village overnight. Putting their recent losses aside, trying to focus on their own survival, the girls prepared as usual for the dance and a night of sex.

It went as expected, too--although this group of four men resembled John and his friends only in the size of their party. They made their choices from among the women when the dance was over--Melanie, Audra, Lila, and Sunni were selected as their primary sex partners--but they were distant, cold, and impersonal as they had sex with the girls. Audra's partner and Sunni's declined to fuck them at all, stating that they merely wanted blow jobs, which the girls gave them. Throughout, the men declined to give their names and did not ask the girls theirs--and, after the sex, the men surprised the girls by promptly getting up and leaving, almost without a word.

"Those guys," Sunni said when they'd gone, "are going to be a problem tomorrow."

There was no way Sunni could have known how prophetic her words were. The next morning the girls got up and had breakfast, then went outside as usual. Seeing no problems, Sunni took the lead as the troop started off toward the northwest, where steep slopes and deep ravines offered them better cover from the hunting party than the flatter woods around the village.

They didn't get a hundred yards past the half-mile perimeter. Without any warning at all, an arrow flashed out from deep cover; it caught Sunni under her ribs on her right side, and it went all the way through her. She grunted and staggered; behind her, Audra screamed shrilly. More arrows came flying out as well, but by then she and the other six in the well-disciplined group had scattered in various directions. Sunni, slowed and possibly disoriented by the arrow already piercing her, took another low in her abdomen, just inside the joint of her right leg. She groaned, staggered, and pushed on a few more steps, but then a third arrow struck her, passing between her ribs and into her chest. She reeled against a tree, grabbed at it for support, and then sank down at the base of it. Watching from hiding, Melanie stifled her tears and sobs. Sunni's days here were over, there wasn't a question of that. Sunni knew it too; bleeding severely and gasping for breath, she waited at the base of the tree for the hunters to come for her.

They appeared, just a moment later, from the brush. Their camouflage clothing and hats were festooned with twigs and leaves. "Got one of 'em, anyway," one of the men said. He looked down at Sunni. "Damn, this is the bitch that sucked my cock last night!" he yelled. Standing over Sunni, he put his hands on his hips. "How ya doin' this morning, cunt?" he asked with an inane giggle.

Then he kicked her in her side, viciously.

Melanie ground her teeth. These were not men like those who'd taken Jill, like those who'd killed Cindy. Evidently feeling the same, Sunni chose defiance; she looked up at them with an impassive face and remained silent.

Or perhaps, Melanie told herself, she was just too badly hurt to talk.

"Don't look like she wants to talk to you, Joe," one of the other men said.

"It don't, does it? Rude bitch. Maybe I should cut off one of her tits, see what she has to say about that."

"She don't hardly have enough tit to cut," the other man argued. "Guess you could try, though."

"Nah. She's bleedin' like a goddamn stuck pig, she's gonna croak pretty soon. Gimme that rope, Ted." The other man unhooked a long piece of polypropylene rope from his belt; taking it, Joe tied a simple slipknot in one end. After putting it around the unresisting Sunni's neck and snugging it up tight, he tossed the other end over a branch about eight feet up in the tree. Together, Joe and Ted tugged on it; Sunni was lifted to her feet and then into the air, her feet only six inches or so from the ground. They then tied it off, leaving her hanging.

At first, she seemed to be accepting her fate passively. But then, as the lack of air began to take its toll on her, she started struggling in spite of herself. Her face darkened, her tongue protruded, she started making a bicycling motion with her legs; the men watching laughed uproariously, and one of them stuck his tongue out in imitation of her. Joe ran up, grabbed the arrow sticking in her lower abdomen, and viciously tore it out of her; she spasmed in the noose and blood spurted out, showering the man. Following his example, Ted did the same thing with the arrow that had pierced her through, but he jerked it out so roughly he bent it, and he tossed it over his shoulder; it landed in the brush well behind him. Meanwhile Joe had started poking her struggling body with the arrow he'd pulled from it, almost choking with laughter as his attacks made her struggle more vigorously. Ripping the third arrow from Sunni's body, Ted started doing the same thing, and soon the other two men had joined in, one of them jabbing at her with an arrow he'd taken from his quiver and the other slapping and punching at her. Melanie, wiping tears, found herself wishing that Sunni was not such a strong woman, that she would go ahead and die and stop this horror.

Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting cry from the brush behind the men. Melanie, startled, looked around; to her shock she saw Lila, the Pawnee girl, break from cover. In her hand was the bent arrow Ted had tossed away. Before the men could do much more than turn toward her, she was upon them. Like a bronze whirlwind she attacked them, slashing at their necks with the razor-tipped arrowhead. Her assault was effective and deadly; within just a few seconds Ted and one of the other men were on the ground, their throats torn open, their life's blood spilling out.

Backing away, Joe snatched his hunting knife out of its sheath. The fourth man backed off too, and fumbled to get an arrow nocked onto his bowstring. Ignoring him, Lila charged directly at Joe. He slashed at her with the knife, but she feinted and countered with the arrow, ripping his upper arm open.

"Goddamn bitch!" he shrieked. He swung at her again and again missed, and she rushed toward him.

By this time the fourth man had managed to ready his bow. He fired an arrow, an arrow which missed her completely. Her face a mask of fury, she swung her arrow at Joe's neck. She missed, but she struck his face, laying his cheek wide open with the razor blades. He shrieked again; Lila moved in closer and slashed at him again. At the same time he jabbed his knife toward her. Again she hit his face, and this time she not only opened another fearful gash in it, she tore out his right eye.

But, almost simultaneously, the knife struck her abdomen, high on the right side, and went in deep. She did not even seem to notice it.

Joe threw himself backwards with a piercing scream, leaving the knife sticking in Lila's body. He fell heavily, clutching at his mutilated face. The arrow upraised, Lila started to go to him, obviously planning to finish him off.

But the fourth man had by then drawn another arrow. "Stop!" he screamed at Lila. "Stop where you are!"

She turned toward him. "Yes," she said. "Yes. Let him suffer. Let him die in agony or live with a face like that." She started toward the fourth man, but by then the blood she was losing from the knife standing in her belly had begun to weaken her. As she came closer, he released his arrow, and this time he did not miss. With a solid thud it struck her under her ribs and pierced her through; the head and six inches of shaft were visible behind her.

The arrow she'd been wielding fell from her hand. She looked down at the arrow and knife piercing her blankly; then slowly sank to her knees. Blood was painting her whole lower body and her legs bright red. Her hands at her sides passively, she looked up at the remaining hunter; his eyes wide with fear, he crept closer to her. When she still didn't move, he nocked another arrow to his bow and shot her again, from close range. The arrow ripped into her right breast and again went all the way through her.

She grunted, but otherwise did not react. Her face showed no trace of whatever pain she might be feeling, she just continued to stare fixedly at the hunter, who stared back at her fearfully. Then he took a few steps back and, finally, turned and ran, back toward the gates and the lodge.

Several minutes later the other girls, cautious about Joe, came out of hiding. Joe, Melanie decided, was not a threat; he lay squirming on the ground, moaning and sobbing. His skull was exposed and so was his jawbone where Lila has slashed him; she doubted he was even aware the girls were there. Melanie and three others rushed to Lila, while two more went to cut down Sunni, who had died unnoticed during the melee.

To Melanie's amazement, Lila was singing softly, a sad, mournful tune. Finally, falling silent, she looked up at them. Her eyes were completely calm, completely clear, but blood bubbled from her nose as she spoke. "As my ancestors used to say," she said, "it's a good day to die." She looked at the carnage around her. "At least I took some of them with me." She turned back to Melanie and the others. "I do hope," she said, "that the man who escaped tells the truth, and it doesn't cause any of the rest of you any trouble."

"Lila..." Melanie began.

"No," the Indian girl said. "I had to. I couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't as much what they were doing to her as they way they were laughing at her and mocking her." She looked down at her own body, at the two arrows and the knife still standing in it. "I don't suppose," she went on, "that'll it'll be very long before the rangers get here. The rest of you shouldn't be here then."

"We are not going to leave you here alone!" Melanie snapped.

"You will when I'm dead," Lila said. "And I will be, in just a moment. Would you lay your hands on my shoulders?" Melanie did as she asked--and, as soon as her hands were in place, Lila resumed her song. She only sang for a couple of minutes before she fell silent, and after that, only seconds passed before she abruptly collapsed, her body twitching without coordination. Melanie kept her hands on her shoulders until she became still, until Melanie was sure she was dead.

After Lila died, the girls moved off into the deep woods; by tacit agreement, it seemed, Audra had now become their leader, the chief of their dwindling tribe. As it turned out, it didn't matter. Within two hours, Harry and a number of other rangers had entered the forest, and Harry's skills--to Melanie they seemed almost supernatural--led him right to them. In serious tones he called them all back to the site of the killings, where he meticulously took everyone's story as to what had happened.

"Okay," he told them when he was done. "Don't worry about it, it's going to be okay. The hunter who came in was yelling about a 'wild Indian' attacking them; everyone's story fits together well, my report's going to say simply that Lila went berserk, and she's already dead. I--"

"She didn't go berserk," Melanie put in. "She'd just had enough. That's all."

Harry turned to her. "I know," he said. His voice was soft, too soft for the other rangers, who were by then bagging up the bodies and getting the now-unconscious Joe onto a stretcher, to hear. "But that I can't say in my report. I know what the warden wants to hear and what he doesn't. If I say something like that he might get the idea that events like this may start happening frequently. If he gets that idea he'll do things to change the balance of things in here to the hunters' favor. Things like reducing your food, or like giving the hunters extra days free, or like leaving the villages open to the hunters at night one or two days a week. That hasn't happened on my watch, but it has happened in the past. It's in the records."

"You're a gem, Harry," Melanie told him, speaking just as softly. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

He glanced at the other rangers; they were still occupied. 'One other thing," he said in even lower tones. "I'm bringing in four new girls in the next eight days. I'm not supposed to but I'm going to brief them on joining your troop. Be watching for them."

"We will," Melanie promised. She watched the rangers gathering up the bodies. "We're running out of girls here..."