The panic in S’quatch’s voice was evident as we topped the rise of the first hill at Munson. I was not supposed to be there, on his wheel, breathing down his neck. In hindsight I probably would have enjoyed the ride more if I had sandbagged a little, allowing him to think that he still held a solid advantage over me. After that moment, it was breakneck, frantic, pell mell screaming through the woods blindly. He flew like Ichabod Crane before the Headless Horseman. I dispatched one of the killer robots-Mystery the Untameable Robot- to rein him in, but soon it will be I who does the reining, and the reigning.
I am Juancho the whittler, and I am steadily carving on the hickory knot of victory.