I hate you, but I love you

Until they started shooting, the thought that the Sunas could be hostile had not crossed her mind. She imagined that they were merely showing off with the childish love of display which she knew was their characteristic. The Iwagakure authorities had been right after all. Hana's first feeling was one of contempt for a governance that made possible such a reckless circus to frighten unaccustomed travellers. Her second, a fleeting amusement at the thought of how Kiba would jeer.

But her amusement passed as the real seriousness of the attack came home to her. For the first time it occurred to her that her guide's descent from his saddle was due to a wound and not to the fear that she had at first disgustedly attributed to him. But nobody had seemed to put up any kind of a fight, she thought wrathfully. She tugged angrily at her horse's mouth, but the bit was between his teeth and he tore on frantically.

Her own position made her furious. Her guide was wounded, his men surrounded, and she was humiliated being run away with by a bolting horse. If she could only turn the wretched animal. It would only be a question of ransom, of that she was positive. She must get back somehow to the others and arrange terms. It was an annoyance, of course, but after all it added a certain spice to her trip, it would be an experience. It was only a "hold-up."

She did not suppose the Sunas had even really meant to hurt any one, but they were excited and some one's shot, aimed wide, had found an unexpected target. It could only be that. They were at the border yet still far from the rumoured most barbaric village of the Wind Country for any real danger, she argued with herself, still straining on the reins. She would not admit that there was any danger, though her heart was beating in a way that it had never done before.

Then as she hauled ineffectually at the bridle with all her strength there came from behind her the sound of a long, shrill whistle. Her horse pricked up his ears and she was conscious that his pace sensibly lessened. Instinctively she looked behind. A solitary Suna was riding after her and as she looked she realised that his horse was gaining on hers. The thought drove every idea of stopping herself run away from him and made her dig her spurs into him instead. There was a sinister air of deliberation in the way in which the Suna was following her; he was riding her down.

Hana's mouth closed firmly and a new intensity came into her steady eyes. It was one thing to go back voluntarily to make terms with the men who had attacked her party; it was quite another thing to be deliberately chased across the desert by a plunderer.

Her obstinate chin was almost square. Then the shadow of a laugh flickered in her eyes and curved her mouth. New experiences were crowding in upon her today. She had often wondered what the feelings of a hunted creature were. She seemed in a fair way of finding out. She had always stoutly maintained that the fox enjoyed the run as much as the hounds; that remained to be proved, but, in any case, she would give this hound a run for his money.

She could ride, and there seemed plenty yet in the frightened animal under her. She bent down, lying low against his neck with a little, reckless laugh, coaxing him with all her knowledge and spurring him alternately. But soon her mood changed. She frowned anxiously as she looked at the last rays of the setting sun. It would be dark very soon. She could not go chasing through the night with this tiresome Suna at her heels.

The humour seemed to have died out of the situation and Hana began to get angry. In the level country that surrounded her there were no natural features that could afford cover or aid in any way; there seemed nothing for it but to own herself defeated and pull up—if she could.

An idea of trying to dodge him and of returning of her own free will was dismissed at once as hopeless. She had seen enough in her short glimpse of the Sunas' tactics when they had passed her to know that she was dealing with a professional horseman on a perfectly trained horse, and that her idea could never succeed. But, perversely, she felt that to that particular Suna following her she would never give in. She would ride till she dropped, or the horse did, before that.

The whistle came again, and again, in spite of her relentless spurring, her horse checked his pace. A sudden inspiration came to her. Perhaps it was the horse she was riding that was the cause of all the trouble. It was certainly the Suna's whistle that had made it moderate its speed; it was responding clearly to a signal that it knew. Her guide's reluctance to give any particulars of his acquisition of the horse came back to her. There could not be much doubt about it. The animal had unquestionably been stolen, and either belonged to or was known to the party of Sunas who had met them.

The naivete that paraded a stolen horse through the desert at the risk of meeting its former owner made her smile in spite of her annoyance, but it was not a pleasant smile, as her thoughts turned from the horse to its present owner. The sum of Akatsuchi's delinquencies was mounting up fast. But it was his affair, not hers. In the meantime she had paid for the horse to ride through the desert, not to be waylaid by Suna bandits. Her temper was going fast.