He sailed through the air a remarkable distance and bounced off a tree. He scrambled up, his eyes showing white with terror, his chest heaving. He looked at her, looked at his gang, then turned and started running through the redwoods.
The other gang members stared after him for a moment before ping for the weapons pile. Jez watched them, frowning. They'd just seen how effective bullets were against people like her, but they still went for the guns, passing by perfectly good split-bamboo knives, yew arrows, and a gorgeous snakewood walking stick.
And then things were noisy for a while as the skinheads came up from the pile and started firing. Jez's gang dodged easily, but an exasperated voice sounded in Jez's head.
Can we go after them now? Or do you want to show off some more?
She flicked a glance behind her. Morgead Blackthorn was seventeen, a year older than she, and her worst enemy. He was conceited, hotheaded, stubborn, and power-hungry-and it didn't help that he was always saying she was all those things, too.
"I told them three minutes," she said out loud. "You want me to break my word?" And for that instant, while she was snarling at him, she forgot to keep track of bullets.
The next thing she knew Morgead was knocking her backward. He was lying on top of her. Something whizzed over both of them and hit a tree, spraying bark.
Morgead's gem-green eyes glared down into hers. "But... they're .. . not. . . running," he said with exaggerated patience. "In case you hadn't noticed."
He was too close. His hands were on either side of her head. His weight was on her. Jez kicked him off, furious with him and appalled at herself.
"This is my game. I thought of it. We play it my way!" she yelled.
The skinheads were scattering anyway. They'd finally realized that shooting was pointless. They were running, crashing through the sword fern.
"Okay, now!" Jez said. "But the leader's mine."
There was a chorus of shouts and hunting calls from her gang. Val, the biggest and always the most impatient, dashed off first, yelling something like "Yeeeeeehaw." Then Thistle and Raven went, the slight blond and the tall dark girl sticking together as always. Pierce hung back, staring with his cold eyes at a tree, waiting to give his prey the illusion of escaping.
Jez didn't look to see what Morgead was doing. Why should she care?
She started off in the direction the skinhead leader had taken. But she didn't exactly take his path. She went through the trees, jumping from one redwood to another. The giant sequoias were the best; they had the thickest branches, although the wart like bulges called burls on the coastal redwoods were good landing places, too. Jez jumped and grabbed and jumped again, occasionally doing acrobatic flips when she caught a branch just for the fun of it.