[By the time she sees Racetrack, she's probably too far away to catch up with. Mal sighs quietly, leaning against a tree, then straightens up and narrows her eyes, hefts the knife again.]
[And throws it, quick and accurate - not to kill, not even to graze, but close enough to her that it'll lodge in a trunk feet from her and (hopefully) make her jump.]
[Then she ducks behind her tree and sinks to the ground, finishing tying her bandage. Her laughter rings through the trees.]
all the spams down in spamville
[And throws it, quick and accurate - not to kill, not even to graze, but close enough to her that it'll lodge in a trunk feet from her and (hopefully) make her jump.]
[Then she ducks behind her tree and sinks to the ground, finishing tying her bandage. Her laughter rings through the trees.]