“On guard, Rainsford!” General Zaroff said zealously. Rainsford’s logic had left him and was replaced by animalistic rage as he took the first swing at the General. The General recoiled without flaw while reaching for his pistol. Rainsford took note of this and braced himself for the struggle that was about to ensue. He staggered back for a brief second before regaining his balance and looking back at Zaroff who was now holding his pistol at arm’s length right towards his head. “I regretfully have to end the game now, Rainsford. It’s been a pleasure, really, but I am not ready to lose yet,” said the General. “I’m afraid that it’s not over yet, Zaroff,” Rainsford replied. He grabbed the barrel of the pistol in one swift lunge and pulled
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Rainsford took an abrupt left into a room that he wasn’t familiar with. It was dark and not being able to discern emptiness from object, he crashed into a bookcase. Zaroff entered the room and flicked on the light to find Rainsford on the floor covered in various volumes of hunting books. Rainsford looked up at the walls of the large study. They were covered with the mounted heads of Zaroff’s previous victims, and Rainsford decided that he would not be one of them. He rose from the ground abruptly and resumed running from Zaroff. The balcony that overlooked the dining room stood about to Rainsford’s waist and it was about five feet down to the vacant dining table. Impulsively, Rainsford hurled himself over the balcony and landed on the dining table which cracked in half under his weight. He rolled off of the splintered wood and stared up at Zaroff. “Rainsford! Whatever have you done? You’ve ruined my beautiful dining table!” he exclaimed disappointedly. Rainsford ran in disregard of what Zaroff had just said he found the front door and burst through it and into the lush green jungle. Zaroff followed closely behind him, but Rainsford was not at all being hunted. He was in complete control of everything Zaroff was doing. He kept running until the ground began to give way beneath his feet to the soft and muddy Death Swamp. He reached for a tree limb and heaved himself
Rainsford took an abrupt left into a room that he wasn’t familiar with. It was dark and not being able to discern emptiness from object, he crashed into a bookcase. Zaroff entered the room and flicked on the light to find Rainsford on the floor covered in various volumes of hunting books. Rainsford looked up at the walls of the large study. They were covered with the mounted heads of Zaroff’s previous victims, and Rainsford decided that he would not be one of them. He rose from the ground abruptly and resumed running from Zaroff. The balcony that overlooked the dining room stood about to Rainsford’s waist and it was about five feet down to the vacant dining table. Impulsively, Rainsford hurled himself over the balcony and landed on the dining table which cracked in half under his weight. He rolled off of the splintered wood and stared up at Zaroff. “Rainsford! Whatever have you done? You’ve ruined my beautiful dining table!” he exclaimed disappointedly. Rainsford ran in disregard of what Zaroff had just said he found the front door and burst through it and into the lush green jungle. Zaroff followed closely behind him, but Rainsford was not at all being hunted. He was in complete control of everything Zaroff was doing. He kept running until the ground began to give way beneath his feet to the soft and muddy Death Swamp. He reached for a tree limb and heaved himself