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The cacti below seemed like sentinels waiting for her descent.
Gunmen shouted. More shots. One bullet whizzed past her head, flicking her ear.
No choice.
Shit.
Her heart was a drumbeat, each pulse commanding her legs to move. Rachel pushed off, the ground giving way beneath her. She twisted mid-air, aiming for what looked like the softest landing amongst the spiny arms reaching out to her.
Cactus.
She was aiming for the cactus.
"Ugh!" The grunt escaped her lips as flesh met cactus, barbed needles piercing her side. A raw, hot pain seared through her, yet she welcomed it. Pain meant she was still alive, still fighting.
The cactus needles were unwelcome, but the flesh was soft. It cushioned her fall, after a fashion. Though needles jammed into her skin.
She groaned in pain, disentangling as best she could, agony flaring up her body. She pushed slowly to her feet, her body aching, but her bones still working.
"Did you hear that?" a distant voice called out.
"Down there!" another shouted. Their footsteps pounded closer, sending showers of sand and grit down the slope above her.
The agony was intense, but it grounded her, kept her alert. She steadied her breathing, tuning out the cries of her hunters. Her fingers wrapped around a broken cactus stem; it had cushioned her fall, had taken the brunt of her desperation.
Rachel's breath came in short, sharp gasps, each one laced with the sting of desert air and the iron taste of determination. Her hands trembled as she plucked the stubborn prickles from her flesh, wincing at the biting pain that each movement brought. Blood, warm and vital, trickled down her arm.
The gully loomed above, its red stone walls a jagged maze under the relentless Texas sun. Rachel's eyes narrowed as she assessed the climb, her mind racing with the images of her childhood teachings—her aunt's stern face, the echo of her words: "Adapt, or perish."
"Where is she?" The distant call of a gunman echoed down the ravine, the sound bouncing off the rocks like a malevolent spirit.
"Spread out!" another voice commanded. They were close, too close for comfort, their footsteps a drumbeat heralding a grim finale.
They'd lost her, at least for the moment.
She had to move, though. It wouldn't take long for them to pick her out in the shadows of the ravine.
A man peered over the edge suddenly.
She raised her gun, fired twice.
He yelped and fell, his body striking the ridge above and then tumbling.
More shouting. No more voices.
They knew where she was now.
She had to move.
She scanned the ground, desperate, looking for animal tracks. Anything to showcase a path out of this ravine. She spotted tracks, then. A goat? Yes... She followed the trail hurriedly, moving towards where it led to red stone.
Now, about a hundred yards back, she heard the voices calling out to each other again.
She grimaced, glanced up the ravine, and began to climb.
She followed the pawprints, using them as a guide, securing handholds. She clambered back to the top of the ravine. Pausing only a couple of times to remove prickles from her skin.
The pain continued, as if she'd hugged a porcupine.
