Aaron Rosenberg - Hunt and run

He’d followed the brushed-out trail at first but had quickly lost it as the undergrowth had thickened, making it unnecessary to hide footprints. The ground here was covered in dry leaves, wet leaves, creeper vines, moss, and occasionally flower petals. The trees were close enough together to provide excellent cover but far enough apart to allow a man to slip between them without difficulty. Low branches offered concealment from above, as did hanging vines, and the foliage filtered the sun so only speckles of light shone through, dancing across dust motes and creating constant shadows. It was a perfect place to hide — or to hunt someone unsuspecting.

Fortunately, Ronon was well aware of that. Unfortunately, so was Nekai.

He had picked up the Retemite’s trail twice more, once when the shorter man had nudged aside a hanging vine and disturbed its place on the branch above and once when he had brushed leaves back into place behind his feet but had flipped one over, leaving it the only dry leaf among a patch of damp ones. Both times the trail had vanished again a few paces later, but Ronon had kept to the same general direction, sure Nekai meant to put as much distance between them before doubling back. The trick would be noticing when he did begin that wide turn, otherwise Ronon would keep right on going and Nekai would be able to come at him from behind.

Nor had his mentor left the area unprepared. Twice Ronon had noticed snares, once just barely in time — his foot had literally been an inch off the ground when he’d spotted a vine with a little too much tension in it and had realized it was a rope concealed among the true foliage. He’d been forced to roll forward to avoid stepping into the trap, which had taken him safely out of harm’s way but had meant he’d spent several minutes concealing all the marks he’d left from that tumble. He knew Nekai would probably circle back and hunt for him along his own previous path, so there was no sense making it easy for the other man.

Given the time, Ronon was sure Nekai had already begun his turn. He hadn’t seen any evidence of that, but he could feel it in his gut. Which just left the question of which way to go. If you were simply running from someone, you’d want to turn away from the sun so you could better see what you were doing and where you were going. But if you were hunting someone — or evading someone hunting you — you’d do the opposite. You’d turn toward the sun, using its glare to dazzle your pursuit so you could duck away and sneak up on them more easily.

Ronon turned toward the sun. Even through the thick canopy above the sudden light made him blink, and he ducked behind a tree as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Then he glanced around —

— and noticed a faint sheen to the bark on the tree beside him, a handspan or so below his eye level.

He broke into a slow grin. Nekai had done the same thing he’d just done, stepped behind a tree while his eyes got used to the increased light. That tree. The sheen was where Nekai’s shoulders had rubbed against it, staining the sensitive outer bark ever so slightly. Ronon stepped away from his own protective trunk and glanced at it. Sure enough, he’d left a similar sheen. There was no way to conceal that — rubbing at the bark would only make it worse — but at least now he knew he had chosen correctly. Nekai had gone this way, and had turned at exactly this point, two hours in.

Which meant the other man was somewhere ahead of him, and just beginning the process of sneaking back around to strike at Ronon.

But Ronon was ready for him. He stroked the pistol at his side. This time, he was going to teach his mentor a thing or two about hunting. Mainly that sometimes a good thing was simply too good to be true.

Ronon cursed. And for good reason. He was currently hanging upside down. His left foot was trapped within a vine loop he’d triggered by stepping into it, and the pressure of his weight had knocked loose the counterweight and jerked the vine and the branch holding it — which had been bent downward and pinned in place — up rapidly, yanking him from his feet and upending him to hang here trussed like a fatted calf.

Just waiting for a hunter — or a Wraith — to stop by and finish him off.

A faint rustling caught his attention, but it was behind him and Ronon couldn’t exactly turn around. Still, he wasn’t surprised when a voice cut through the silence of the forest a second later.

“I thought I’d trained you better than that,” Nekai commented as he emerged from the bushes. Even listening hard, Ronon could barely hear his footsteps as the stocky Retemite came closer, pistol raised and leveled at Ronon’s chest. “You were doing so well, too — picking up on my tracks, avoiding my snares, covering your own traces well.” Ronon was sure the other man was shaking his head now. “Then you got careless.”

“Must have,” Ronon admitted. “I’ll do better next time.”

“What makes you so sure there will be a next time?” There was no humor in Nekai’s tone, and Ronon felt a chill run down — or up — him.

“What’re you saying? That I failed?”

“I don’t know,” the other man admitted quietly. “I really am surprised by you. I thought you’d do better than thi — ”

The rest of Nekai’s words were cut short as his foot came down among a clump of wet leaves — and they shifted beneath him. Ronon had managed to twist and sway enough that he could see his mentor off to the side of his vision, so he had at least a quick glimpse of the shock on the other man’s face as Nekai realized what was happening. Then Ronon’s snare had closed around his ankle, the counterweight had fallen, and the Retemite was being hoisted into the air. The sudden force of the ascent knocked the stun gun from his hand, and it fell to the leaves below as Nekai hung there, swinging from the built-up momentum of his rapid rise.

“How?” he sputtered as Ronon bent his left leg, pulling himself higher. Then he bent and reached up with both hands, grasping the vine just above the loop. The added pressure above the knot forced it to loosen and he pulled his foot free, then swung both legs down and dropped easily to the ground. His own pistol was securely in its holster, and he drew it now, covering Nekai even as he crouched and collected the fallen Wraith stun gun.

“I spotted the snare without a problem,” Ronon admitted, straightening and taking a few steps away from his strung-up mentor. No sense getting within range of the man’s knives. “So I rigged one of my own just a few steps away from it.” He shrugged, trying not to grin. “Then I stepped into yours and waited for you to hear the commotion and come running.” The grin slipped free anyway. “Which you did.”

“You couldn’t know which direction I’d come from,” Nekai insisted.

“No, but I knew you’d circle around until you were behind me,” Ronon pointed out. “So I positioned the snare where I wanted it, then adjusted my own orientation until it was directly at my back.” His grin widened. “The rest was easy.”

Nekai studied him for a second — then laughed. “Nicely done,” he admitted. “You used my own planning against me, and I fell for it. I am impressed.”

“Then I passed?” Ronon asked, lowering his pistol slightly but still not moving too close. “Can I cut you down, or are you going to try for me anyway?”

“You definitely pass,” his mentor assured him. “The test is over.” Ronon holstered his pistol and drew a knife, slicing through the vine with a single quick overhand slash. Nekai fell to the ground, twisting and curling into a ball to lessen the impact. He was on his feet a moment later, and Ronon handed him back the stun gun without a word.