Instinct. What is it that allows an animal to know when it is being hunted or not? In the heat of Africa, what is it that causes hundreds of zebras to walk by a pride of lions sunning themselves in the light, and not a single one of them flinches, but when the lioness is on the prowl, unseen, that is when they know, and get nervous?

In the heat of the jungle, spear in hand, barely clothed, hidden in alien ferns, she felt it. Instinct prickled at the back of her neck, poured fire in her blood, played her heart like a drum, heightened her senses and drew her muscles so tight that they spasmed.

Hannah was being hunted.

For almost an hour she had traversed the dense jungle, parted ferns with the spear in her hand and stepped through. She had no destination, but she wanted on badly. She would have settled even for at least a direction, but through the thick canopy that was no shelter against the heat, she couldn't see the sun. She just knew that it was hot, and stiflingly humid.

The air here was breathable, but barely so. Even if the adrenaline wasn't ravaging her body, she'd still be taking quick short breaths of the scalding, heavy air. Her eyes darted back and forth as she held her spear close, and took a step forward from her crouched position. She was careful, with every step, not to snap anything underfoot. This meant that she crawled forward at a snail's pace, looking left, then right, then left again ten times before taking another step.

It was like the most dangerous game of hide and seek she had ever played, and there was no 'safe zone' that she could run to. It was a game she didn't know all the rules to, and couldn't win. She swallowed again, trying to control her breathing, feeling her sweat roll off of her skin by the pint. She had to have lost fifty pounds by now.

The animals around her were active, though she never really saw any. Just the rustling of a bush, the flick of a fern as some small creature lost its nerve and darted away from her. Calls echoed through the trees, sometimes answered, and insects buzzed. Nothing dangerous so far; no sort of growling or snarling indicated the presence of a predator.

She was sore. Tightened muscles threatened to cramp if she didn't stand up and stretch them out, but that would expose her, put her in immediate danger. She wiped her hand across her brow and bent down to her hands and knees. The spear in her hand retracted with a loud snikt and she flinched, froze, and listened. When nothing changed, she planted the shortened spear deep into the moist earth and put her ear to it. She listened to the movements on the surface, hearing small thuds, but no large ones.

Letting out her breath and licking her lips, tasting salt. She pulled the spear out of the ground, stretched her aching muscles, then crouched again and moved forward. She wanted this to be over, to sit down and give up, she was tired, sore, hungry, thirsty, hell until recently she had been dead. But she knew rest wasn't an option. Getting caught napping meant death. A bad move meant death. Carry on, keep alert, movement was life.

Something moved near her and she stopped, dropping down to one knee and re-extending the spear in her hand, pointed at an angle upwards with the back grounded in the soil. The ferns ahead of her rustled, something was coming her way. She strained her eyes, trying to focus on the area surrounding the ferns rather than the ferns themselves, looking for a distortion of light, the warping of the colors of the jungles.

Out of the fern burst a small pack of lizards, four long two-toed legs carrying them quickly forward, six back spines that were red in color swayed back and forth almost like wings. Several small snake-like heads on long necks were stretched forward, only to rear back as the caught Hannah's scent. The pack leader, gave out a cry and turned its herd away, heading to somewhere on Hannah's left. The entire pack cried out as well, wails of eek eek drowned out all other noise. There had to have been fifty individuals, some spotted, some striped, ranging in color from green to yellow with long whip-like tails trailing behind them. When they all passed, Hannah unfroze and leaned forward, able to see a clearly defined trail of crushed bush.

She didn't go in the direction they came from. Something spooked them.

Turning to her right, Hannah continued forward, sweating, heaving, hating life. She stopped when she heard a noise, nothing made by a living creature, but a new sound. She soon recognized it as water, and with wide eyes she moved forward, almost throwing caution to the wind. She soon came upon a small brook that cut a path through the soft dirt, exposing bright red rocks against the black earth. She dropped to her knees by the brook and dipped her hand in the water. It felt cool and she sighed in relief. She knew better than to drink it, but instead splashed the water over her body, cooling herself down and holding in a laugh.

Dipping her hand down again she brought a small amount to her nose and inhaled the scent for anything immediately odd. Then she froze when she heard a noise. She dropped the water in her hand and snatched up her spear again. Ears rang as she strained to listen, holding her breath, spear pointing in the direction of the possibly imaginary sound as she crouched low and slowly moved back to the shelter of the ferns and trees. Her body instantly protested her cessation of its necessary function and her chest began to burn. She went back to quick short breaths that were deafening in the silence of the jungle.

Wait. Shit! She should have noticed sooner, but too late did she realize that the animals around her had gone quiet. The game was over, she knew it, no point in running. She saw the jungle to her left move a split second before a spear came down on her. She yelled in surprise, stumbling back from the force of the blow as the two metal weapons came into contact. The sound rang through the trees and she fell to one knee, sinking into the soft earth before standing and regaining her footing.

She was immediately on the defensive, holding the spear in a blocking position as her ghostly aggressor's weapon came down on her again and again, sending shocks of pain up her arms. Her eyes darted from her attacker to the trees and back again as she sought out any foliage that she could use to help defend herself. She waited for an opening, a chance to counter-strike and duck into the trees. It was never presented.

She persisted, gritting her teeth as strike after strike tore at her muscles, sending her downward or to the side to try to open her for a direct attack. Hers was an exercise in futility, but she didn't have the option for less. Her arms were becoming numb, the only reason she was still able to hold the weapon was that her fingers were cramped around the shaft. Finally she saw a chance, taking a step back and dodging around a tree, putting the five-foot wide behemoth between the two of them and jumped back to try to buy her some time to think.

It didn't help as the invisible attacker danced easily around it with the grace of a jungle cat, the distorted image toying with her vision as it threatened to be lost among the massive amounts of shifting colors and shadows of the forest. She gnashed her teeth and chocked back cries of anguish as another strike came at her and she blocked.

Further and further back he pushed her, step by step she lost ground. Then her heel contacted something hard and smooth. She slipped, lost her footing, and almost fell. It was an opportunity the ghost did not pass up. A hard smack hit the side of her head and sent her tumbling to the ground. Her ear rang with pain as she struggled up and staggered, only to have her un protected ribs smacked next. She stumbled back, holding her ribs, holding the spear in just one hand as the ghost's massive form manifested in front of her too quickly for her to react. The broad length of the spear was shoved against her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs and sending her back against a tree.

A lucky break, her balance was caught instantly and she spun away as the spear hit the bark of the tree and created an indent. The impact area turned a dark color as if the tree had instantly bruised, but it did not really slow down the apparition. Hannah had the spear back in both hands, held diagonally in a defensive position, coughing and gasping shakily.

A harsh clicking noise wavered the air around her and she bit down against the pain. The ghost rushed at her, roaring. Fast and relentless, the spear came down around her, striking the metal, and flesh when she was not fast enough. Gnashing her teeth, she bit back against cries of pain. She would not let him hear how much he was hurting her, she would not let him have the satisfaction. But it hurt, oh did it hurt.

His goal, of course, was to hurt her, to make her cry and scream, to bring out that weakness in her. The thought filled her with anger, but anger was not enough, anger did not give her the strength to overpower, or the skill to overcome. The weapon in her hands was as useless as an instrument given to a pig. Had it been a gun, or even a bow, this fight would have gone much differently.

Her bitter thoughts distracted her, a sharp pain erupted across her shoulder and she cried out, buckling. He won. The harsh rattle of disapproval struck her ears almost as harshly as the weapon that cracked against her back, forcing her to her hands and knees.

Roaring, Hannah threw herself forward, smashing her shoulder against his legs, causing him to take only one step back to regain his balance, but it was long enough for her to be on her feet again.

"Why!?" she screamed at her opponent, "why this!?" her voice was as much anguish as it was pain, but the emotion was not heeded and the ghost reared back to attack again, she turned the spear defensively once more and continued to cry out, "you're going to win! You always do! I'm never going to win!"

"You're not meant to win," growled the predator, and his weapon smacked against hers with unbridled strength, causing a final shock of pain to go through her hands and she dropped the spear with an exclamation. The instantaneous feeling of dread filled her before the weapon even impacted the ground.

Bad. She was back-handed with an immense heat, smashed against a tree, sure that something was broken as she lay on the ground, panting in the taste of dark moist soil.

"Just improve."

Hannah groaned painfully as she pushed herself up. Her muscles shuddering and twitching as feeling started to come back to them. She heaved for air, twigs and leaves littered her dark damp hair as equally dark hair turned towards the ghost.

"Improve?" she whimpered. Crackling static sizzled through the air before her. Ripples of electricity ran over the huge form, fading away in sections to reveal the large olive and bruise-colored body of the predator, red mask looking down at her as his three-fingered hand moved away from his gauntlet. Jar-hidda didn't answer, whipping around, causing his black dreads to smack against his skin. The red ornaments glittered in the light as he walked away from her.

Hannah groaned and collapsed back into the dirt.