Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Maugrim of Chronicles of Narnia Fame. I hope you enjoy this short story, and please give me constructive criticism or compliments.

Maugrim Jones and the Dangerous Hunt

Maugrim Jones struggled to keep his head above water. In the distance, the burning hulk of a tramp steamer could be seen. The sea was littered with debris, but alas, no boats. In his right hand, Maugrim gripped the Silver Knife, an artifact from the time of the Conquistadores. He had fought several burly sailors, and many gangsters to retrieve it.

He was motivated by a love for history, and had vowed that the Knife wouldn't be taken from the museum in which it resided. However, the evil gangster Malkus Vile had stolen it.

Maugrim didn't know how the steamer exploded, though there was a suspicion in his mind that the fifty cases of dynamite had something to do with it.

However, with some irony, Maugrim realized that his attempt to save the Knife had resulted in his near death.

"Got to keep swimming," the wolf croaked, "Got to find something to grab on to."

In the distance, a light flashed.

Maugrim strained to see it, was he imagining things?

It flashed again, Maugrim was sure of it.

A third time and Maugrim was sure that it was real.

"Be it ship, boat or land," he muttered, "At least there's got to be a safe place."
With all his strength, Maugrim kicked toward the source of the light.

Maugrim was glad to see that the light was real, and actually came from a lighthouse on an island.

"Where there's a lighthouse," he muttered as he walked up the beach, "There's got to be people."

The island wasn't large, Maugrim guessed, most likely only eight miles in length. Also, it seemed to be volcanic in origin, and had lush jungles and swamps.

And a lighthouse, which was not manned by people, but was a self-operating machine.

"D-," swore Maugrim as he kicked the lighthouse with his foot, "No sign of life. However," he reasoned, "if there's an automated lighthouse, there's got to be someone to fix it if it breaks! Better follow these power cables," he said as he looked at the electrical wires that led into the jungle, "They MUST lead to the power source." The wolf slipped the Knife into his satchel, took his whip from his belt, and cocked his Mauser pistol, and then plunged into the darkened forest.

After an hours walking, Maugrim came upon a large fence, made to look like some large, gothic piece of architecture.

"Someone must live here," he rasped, "I just hope he's friendly." He walked along the fence, hoping to find a gate. His bare feet were bleeding, and ached like heck. He was a tall wolf, with grey fur, piercing yellow eyes, a gruff voice, and a lightly muscle d frame. He wore a soaked pair of khaki pants, an equally soaked white shirt, and a battered fedora. He was the Ex-Captain of the Secret Police under Jadis, and had survived the Narnian Civil War. He was something of a womanizer, having only met one woman who had left any deep mark on him, and they had parted ways after their conflicting interests led them to fighting.

He came upon a large gate, with the words Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter, written on them in iron grating.

"Must be Dante's house," he joked as he pushed aside the gates, and entered the large compound.

He walked along a fine stone path now, and in the distance, Maugrim swore that it had to be a trick of the eyes, a large colonial castle, with a domed roof, and gables, balconies and a large clock-tower.

"Gosh I hope I'm not on Ship-Trap Island," he muttered as he walked towards the building, "I don't fancy being a trophy on the wall."

He came close to the large, imposing wooden doors, and rapped loudly.

The door creaked open, and a huge, burly T-Rex cocked a Lugar.

"Whoa there, Chomper," said Maugrim as he raised his arms in surrender, "I'm not a thief."

The Rex only grunted, and raised the pistol to Maugrims' snout.

"Comrade," shouted Maugrim, "Don't shoot!"

"Klaus!" came a sharp command, "Stand down!"

The Rex, who Maugrim assumed was Klaus, lowered his pistol, and stepped aside as a well-dressed Raptor came to Maugrim.

The raptor was a well-dressed male, with sharp eyes, a medium build, and he was dressed in a business suit, and had a pipe clenched in his claws.

"Who are you?" he said in a sweet, friendly tone, "And what brings you to Skelton Island?"

"I'm Maugrim Jones," answered Maugrim, "I had the misfortune to be shipwrecked here. I'm not a thief."

"Of course you're not!" laughed the raptor, "Please, come in out of the storm, Klaus will fetch you some dry clothes." He walked inside, and Maugrim followed.

This is my home," said the raptor as he led him through the ornate palace, "I am, like you, a banished."

"Don't remember any dinosaurs fighting on the side of Jadis during the war," Muttered Maugrim.

"Not that little Narnian debacle," laughed the raptor, "I am referring to the Jurassic Park Wars. I was one of those who aligned himself with John Hammond." He snorted with contempt. "Those wretched rebels expelled me when Hammond left. I, of course, had many American investments, so I am not in some Dinotopian tea-room or a Cabbie in New York. I am sorry for Klaus's behavior, he is only able to understand Raptornese, and is simple-minded, only able to understand orders that I give him. But he IS a loyal servant, and he did save my life during the war. But what sort of host am I?" he turned around with a look of shock on his face, "I have not introduced myself! My name is Hans Braun, formerly Von Braun, like the inventor."

"Pleased to meet you," said Maugrim as he shook Hans's hand.

"Please," said Hans as he pushed aside a door that led to a finely decorated bedroom, "Make yourself comfortable, and get out of those wet things," he pointed to Maugrims' dripping clothes. "I have plans to dine with you."

"Thanks," muttered Maugrim as he entered the room.

The door shut itself behind him, and Maugrim laid his belongings out on the bed. He checked his bag to make sure that the Knife was still there, and smiled as the blade winked at him. He then unbuttoned his shirt, and slung it over a chair, and rummaged through the closet, and put on a clean suit.

"Well," he muttered as he looked himself over in the mirror, "I look like a regular dandy." He then slung his pack over his shoulder, holstered his Mauser, and entered the bathroom, where he washed off the dirt and grime from his face.

After he had made himself presentable, Maugrim went to the Dining Hall, and took a seat near Hans, who was conversing with a fairly beautiful female husky.

"Ah," said Hans as he saw the dapper figure of Maugrim, "My other guest has arrived. Maugrim Jones, this is Helga Livingston, she was also ship-wrecked, and was also tossed ashore during a storm."

"Charmed," said Maugrim as he kissed Helga's' hand.

"Are you THE Maugrim Jones?" she asked, "The author of the book Mysteries of the Ancients?"

"Yes," chuckled Maugrim, "I have written that book. Have you read it?"

"Oh I have," said Helga, "I'm also an archeologist, except I come from more respectable circles."

"Touché," said Maugrim as he took his seat.

"I read in your book," said Hans, "That you taught at Hogwarts, is this true? I though English law forbade Wolves from being teachers."

"No," said Maugrim, "I'm actually a professor at Boulder University. I teach World History. But I DID teach at Hogwarts for a year."

"Well," laughed Hans, "I guess I'll allow you to get acquainted, while I see what's holding up our chef." And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

"So," said Maugrim, "Did anyone else wash up on the shore with you?"

"Yes," whispered Helga in a frightened voice, "The captain and two other sailors."

"Where are they?"

"Dead," Helga's face was a mask of fear, "This island, it's not the place to be stranded."

"What," jested Maugrim, "The Others not leaving you alone?"

"I'm serious," she hissed, "The owner, Hans, he's a hunter."

"What's wrong with that?"

"He hunts one type of prey, now."

"What, dumb beasts?"

"No, US!" hissed Helga.

"But that's murder!"

"I know!"

"What are you still doing here?"

"He leaves me alive, but only because he refuses to hunt females."

Maugrim was silent, his face a mask of fear.

"Exactly." said Helga nervously.

"I've got to get off."

"Not a chance. He's got the island guarded by sensors, lookouts, dogs, and the works!"

Just then, Hans reentered the hall.

"Dinners just about ready," he said, then, noticing the terrified glares, asked "Something wrong?"

"Mr. Braun," said Maugrim as he got up, "I'm afraid that I must leave. If you'd let me use your phone, then I'll—"

"Not a chance in Hades," growled Hans as he upholstered a shiny new revolver, "I'm a hunter first and foremost. When I was six, my father gave me a rifle to shoot sparrows with. When I shot his prized racing pigeon, he didn't chide me, but instead congratulated me on my kill. I live for the hunt, I must always feel the joy of stalking your prey, the fear, the exhilaration; the hunt is to me, what driving fast is to the teenager, a most exhilarating experience, an adrenaline rush."

"Then why not hunt tigers?" suggested Maugrim, "Or other dinosaurs? Or Lions? Why, talking beasts?"

"Because, those dumb beasts only rely on instinct, Dr. Jones, I want a prey that can REASON. I can't live without hunting, it's in my genes. My primitive ancestors hunted, but not for sport, no, for survival! Now, along comes farming, supermarkets, fast food. The need for the hunt is gone. PETA hates it, environmentalists hate it, and animal lovers hate it. But I LOVE it." He thumped his fist on the table. "Aren't you a hunter?" he asked Maugrim, "I believe that you once did hunt other talking beasts."

"It was my job," growled Maugrim, hand hovering over Mauser, "I was Captain of the Secret Police then, but now, I only kill out of self defense."

"A bold claim," laughed Hans, "But it's in you instincts. Even now, as I speak, your hand hovers over your pistol, ready to shoot me if I do anything threatening. See, Dr. Jones, you still DO hunt, even though you say you don't. Why not sate that little lust Why not join me on a little 'expedition'? You and I, alone in the wilderness, mano a mano, with only our wits, guns, and skills to provide us with survival?" he said firmly. "A wager, to make it interesting," he sat down in his chair, "if you can elude me for three days, I'll let you go free." He noticed the look on Maugrims face, laughed, and said "Of course, I promise to set you free on the mainland; I am a raptor of my word. To make it a fair deal, I shall also let Helga go free, but until midnight three days from now, she'll be held here."

"And," said Maugrim, not liking what would happen if he lost, "I lose?"

"If I find you," said Hans sinisterly, "You lose the hunt."

"Don't do it!" hissed Helga, "He's never lost a hunt! You'll die!"

"I'll do it," said Maugrim steadily, "I'll play hunted to your hunter. But I expect you to hold your end of the deal up, do you promise?"

"Of course," chuckled Hans as he shook Maugrims hand in a sign of gentlemanly agreement, "I shall keep my word."

"Now," he said as Klaus wheeled in the food, "Let us have a fine repast, for it may be the last one we have in a few days, eh Maugrim?"

"Of course," said Maugrim as he took a bite of his roast, "Cheers." He raised his glass in toast.

"Ah," said Hans "To the hunter, may he always triumph!"

Maugrim had a hard time swallowing his food.

"Now," said Hans as he outfitted Maugrim with a Mauser, knife, and of course, his trusty whip, "I shall give you a three hours head-start. If I can't find you by tonight, I shall have to call out the dogs. Farwell, Dr. Jones!" he waved to him as he bolted into the jungle.

Maugrim zigzagged through the jungle, doubling back at some points, climbing trees at others. He was trying to throw Hans off the trail, trying to confuse him. He couldn't afford to lose this hunt.

"Keep your head," he muttered, "Maugrim, keep your head, for cripes sake!"

He climbed up a tree, for he heard the tromping of boots behind him.

Hans looked around, standing directly underneath Maugrim, who had to resist the temptation to leap down on top of him.

Slowly, Hans's eyes traveled up the tree, and Maugrim held his breath, praying that he wouldn't be found.

"Ah, Dr. Jones," said Hans, still looking just below him, "I see that you think that you can elude me. Pity, you can't." he aimed his pistol

Maugrim leapt from the tree, and swung his whip around the branch of another, and swung right into Hans, knocking him back on his feet, and then bolted as the crack of pistol shots were heard behind him.

Hans stood calmly in the jungle. Yes, it would indeed be a most thrilling hunt. "I see that I've found my match." He said slowly, and then proceeded to follow Maugrim.

Maugrim tore through the jungle, but stopped just short of a sheer drop, which ended in the ocean that surrounded the island. He looked frantically around, searching for a way out. "Got to escape," he muttered, "Got to find a way out." He saw a large canyon where a waterfall roared past, and saw that he was sandwiched between the fall, and the murderous Hans.

Hans stepped from the thick forest growth, and walked calmly toward Maugrim.

"Pity," he said as he upholstered his pistol, "I was expecting better from you, Dr. Jones."

"How about this?" yelled Maugrim as he snapped the pistol from Hans's hand, and then swung across the chasm with his whip.

"AH," said Hans, clearly unperturbed as he recovered his sidearm, "That's more like it." He then started shooting at the fleeing wolf, enjoying this wondrous hunt!

Maugrim turned around, and began to fire two bullets from his pistol, both of which fell short of their target.

"A pity," said Hans loudly, "Dr. Jones, you should know that the Mauser only has an effective range of two-hundred meters. I'm a bit farther than that. But good shots, all the same!"

Maugrim smiled, and then ran back into the jungle.

Hans smiled villainously, and then pressed a button on a remote control that he had hidden in his pocket, causing a bridge to slowly cross the chasm.

"Of course," he smiled, "This is MY Island, MY rules." He then crossed the ridge, smiling at the resourcefulness of his quarry.

It was late into the night when Hans returned to the château, and barked for Klaus to ready the dogs.

"I shall resume the hunt in the morning," he told Helga, who was franticly pacing in her room, "I must say, Dr. Jones is a VERY good quarry. Twice, he has escaped me using his whip, and so far, he has four bullets left."

"And tomorrow," said Helga bitterly, "You'll reload your pistol with a fresh clip."

"On the contrary," laughed Hans, "I shall keep my gun at its current clip load, for I still have three bullets left. I only reload when I'm out of bullets. Of course, I shan't have to."

He sat down on the bed, and saw that, inside Maugrims' satchel, there was a glint of silver.

"Eh? What is this?" he asked Helga as he pulled the Silver Knife from the bag.

"I don't know," said Helga, "He just told me to keep it safe."

"Looks to be centuries old," said Hans as he looked at the finely made blade, "Of course!" he snapped his fingers, "This was what Malkus Vile was supposed to deliver to me. I'm a collector of fine antique weapons, you know."

He then got up, and exited the room.

"I shall have Klaus put this under glass. I paid for it."

Maugrim watched the entire show through the window.

He had snuck back to the mansion in the dead of night, hoping to find a way off the island, but then realized that his enemy would find him if he tried to do so.

"D-—," he growled in a hushed voice, "He's got the Knife. I've got to get it back."

He crept into the main hall, and slowly stepped trough the building, searching for the armory.

Upon finding it, he slowly searched it, until he found the Knife, gazing out at him through a glass case.

Slowly, he lifted the case, and took the Knife.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded.

The Knife was booby trapped!
"Ah, Maugrim," said the calm voice of Hans as he leveled a pistol at him, "I knew that you'd come back. You're like the proverbial bad penny, always turning up when I least want you. I guess I should have told you about my little 'Acquisition'. I believe it's over three centuries old, isn't it? Amazing, it's very well kept; it looks like it just came from the blacksmiths. A credit to its creator, don't you think?"

"Yes," said Maugrim as he slowly turned around, "A fine piece of craftsmanship, just like this!"

He smashed a glass case, whipped out an old flintlock, and fired.

The bullet only grazed Hans, but it was enough to give Maugrim the needed diversion to escape.

Maugrim dashed through the halls, and leapt off the balcony, and swung his whip over a chandelier, smashed through a stained-glass window, and fled into the inky blackness of the night.

The morning sun found Maugrim sleeping in a tree, but fast waking as the sound of baying hounds reached his ears. Maugrim slowly turned around, and watched in muted horror as Hans came closer, followed by a pack of slavering, snarling hounds.

Maugrim was struck by a bolt of ingeniousness, and began sawing away the lines that were holding the branch he was on to the tree.

Hans drew closer, and then instinctively leapt back as the branch fell past him, grazing his shoulder, and killing two of his dogs.

He smiled as he watched the figure of Maugrim whip-swing through the canopy.

"Excellent trap, Dr. Jones," said Hans, "But alas, to no avail, I'm still alive, though I shall need a bandage for my arm. That's the fourth time that your ingeniousness has surprised me, this is turning out to be an excellent hunt."

Maugrim stumbled through the heart of the jungle, his bare feet bleeding and squelching through the mud as he swam through the foul, fetid swamps.

"Not good," he said to himself, "I need an edge. Or at least some bandages." He checked his feet, they were dirt-covered, and he worried about an infection.

Then, he noticed that he was quickly sinking.

"Quicksand!" he yelled, and then struggled to free himself.

He sank deeper into the mud, and then realized that his attempts to get out would only cause him to sink even deeper into the mud.

He got out his whip, and threw it over a low-hanging branch, and hauled himself out of the mud.

He had just barely freed himself when Hans and his dogs came down to the swamp.

"I see that Dr. Jones has been here," said Hans as he strained to keep his dogs from drowning in the sand, "And he has survived it." He then saw the bloody footprints. "Of course," he chuckled, "I should have expected this."

"Onward, to victory!" He said led his dogs after the exiled Maugrim, sure that he would have another victory.

Maugrim was exhausted. He had run for hours, and hadn't rested. The only thing that drove him was the urge to survive. He had to escape the evil Hans, death was the penalty for losing the hunt.

"Must… Keep… moving." He groaned. His feet felt like they were burning, and he hadn't eaten in two days. He was exhausted, and wanted to find a place to sleep.

The barking of dogs spurred him on, and he knew how they were able to track him. His feet, which were bleeding, left blood on the ground, and this, made for easy tracking.

"There is no escape for you, Dr. Jones," said the always-calm voice of Hans, "You know that you can't escape. Just for once, give up, and I'll make sure your death is quick and painless."

"LIKE HECK!" yelled Maugrim as he fired off two rounds from his Mauser, killing two dogs, and wounding another. He then bolted, and heard the report of a pistol as Hans fired after him.

Night fell, for the second day, and Maugrim once more tried to sleep. He knew that Hans wouldn't reload his gun, so confidant was he in his hunting abilities.

"Ugh," groaned Maugrim as he stretched his aching body over the branch, "I feel like I just took a ride in a rock-crusher, what the BiteFang am I doing? BiteFang, I learned that obscenity from Devona, wonderful women, pity she and I didn't get along." He tilted his hat over his eyes, and closed his eyes. "Wonder how Helga's doing? Last I saw, she was being held captive. Along with the Knife." he groaned.

He awoke with a start. "Wait a minute," he said, "I remember this place. I was here yesterday. Oh no!" the realization hit him like a blast of cold water. "I'm traveling in circles! I'm near Hans's mansion! I'm dead if I stay here! Of course," he added with a sardonic laugh, "I'm dead if I try to move somewhere else. No doubt Hans has this entire island mapped out. I don't think I'd be safe anywhere, except Han's mansion. Of course!" he sat bolt upright. "His mansion is the last place he'd look! I can hide there, and see if I can bandage my feet! And get some food. Wait, he's got that two-hundred-pound bodyguard, Klaus, protecting it. And those heck-hounds. Wait, they're dogs, and I can speak to them. Hopefully, I can keep them away from me long enough to get inside." He leapt down from the tree. "It's a fool's journey, but it has to be done." And with that, Maugrim limped to the mansion.

Klaus smoked a cigarette in the night. So far, his master had not found the ragamuffin that had arrived two days ago. He laughed fiercely; he was surprised, like Hans, at that wolf's incredible ingenuity. Imagine, using a whip to cross a two-hundred meter gorge; or that very same whip to smash masters prized stained-glass window! Or even, and this amused him the most, to swing away from master like Tarzan, all that was missing was the leopard-skin and the familiar yowl.

He dropped the cigarette, and ground it into the ground with the heel of his boot. Master was sleeping in his bed, no doubt that injury to the shoulder had been painful, and the husky-woman was crying in her room.

Something caught Klaus's attention.

It was the sound of a living creature climbing over masters' gates.

Maugrim silently crept through the grounds, making sure that no one was alerted to his presence. He hadn't been spotted yet, but was still afraid all the same.

"Never thought I'd be glad to see THIS place again." he muttered under his breath.

He stealthily moved around, and snuck into the dogs' kennels.

A dog raised its head sleepily, and growled.

"Whoa there," said Maugrim in dog-talk, "I'm friendly. See? I'm hurt. I want to get a bandage."

The dog blinked at him, then fell asleep again, dreaming doggy dreams.

Maugrim smiled, and entered the mansion.

Klaus followed the intruders' path. He was sure that it was that wolf again. No one else had washed up. He cocked his Lugar, and sniffed the trail of blood.

It was fresh. He looked up to see a shadow dart into the mansion, through the kennels, and try to find a place to hide.

Klaus grinned toothily, and followed.

Maugrim had found a first aid kit, and was wrapping his feet in gauze, when he felt the burly manservant behind him.

He turned around, and got socked across the mouth.

Klaus stepped towards Maugrim, twirling his Lugar. His face was grim, and his eyes like cold steel.

"Ah, Dr. Jones," said Hans as he came from behind Klaus, "I see that you've been sneaking around my house after dark. Now, you must remember you have still twenty-four hours before this hunt ends, and even though we're both down to our last round, I assure you; I still have the advantage. Klaus!" he barked in Raptornese, "Finish him off!"

Klaus grunted, and stepped towards Maugrim.

Maugrim bolted up the stairs, and swung from one balcony to the next, then ran into the mansions west wing.

Maugrim looked behind him, and saw the lumbering figure of Klaus closing in behind him. The rex fired off three rounds from his gun, and Maugrim ducked into a small room.

He gave a gasp when he saw that he was in a kitchen. Knives lined the walls, and there was only a small rubbish chute at the far side of the room.

"D-," he swore, "I'm cornered."

Klaus stormed into the room, and immediately screeched in pain as Maugrim lobbed knife after knife at him. Maugrim slowly backed up, and then leapt into the chute!

Maugrim slid down the chute, until he landed in a pile of trash.

"Soft landing." he groused as he wiped away a banana peel and some coffee grounds from his face.

"So," said Hans as he checked his mansions sensors, "Dr. Jones is in the trash incinerator? He must be cold," he laughed evilly, "So why don't we turn up the heat for him a bit?" He pressed an orange button.

Maugrim was hot, VERY HOT. He felt like he was in the desert, only a thousand times worse.

"D-," he croaked, "What's happening?"

Suddenly, a pile of trash burst into flames!

Then another, and another, and another!

'I'm in an incinerator!" he yelled, "I've got to get out!"

Maugrim looked franticly around, searching for an escape. But, alas, all the chutes were closed tight, and nothing could get out.

Maugrim then realized that his feet were warm.

Then, his bandages began to smolder.

"OH D-!" he yelped.

He unfurled his whip, and looked for an escape vent.

"There's got to be one," he coughed as the smoke began to choke him, "He's got to release the smoke."

He squinted through the smoke, searching for the vent.

"THERE IT IS!" he yelled.

He swung his whip up over a low-hanging beam, and then pulled himself up.

Just as the pile of trash he was standing on exploded into flame.

Hans watched as the sensors showed his prey crawling through the smoke vent.

"Very clever, Dr. Jones, pity my servant Klaus is standing guard at the vent."

Maugrim emerged into the outside world, only to be scooped up by the brutish manservant, Klaus.

Maugrim squirmed to free himself, swearing a blue streak, but Klaus only laughed.

"Got to get free." gasped Maugrim as he thrashed around. He kicked Klaus in between the legs, and dashed up a tower, followed closely by the mute Klaus.

Maugrim soon found that he was at the top of the clock tower that he had seen when he had first arrived. He watched as the pendulums, gears, and other mechanisms slowly ticked away the seconds before his three days of h- ended.

Klaus came up behind him, and began to choke him.

Maugrim struggled to break free from the giants iron grip.

Klaus then took him outside, and dangled him over the edge.

Klaus smiled, and Maugrim smiled back.

Maugrim bit. Hard.

Klaus screamed in pain, and Maugrim dropped past the ledge, but swung his whip over a gargoyle, and pulled himself back up.

Klaus lunged, but Maugrim ducked back into the tower, and climbed a ladder, which led to a ledge that provided access to the clock face.

The steady clunk-clunk told him that the monster was following, and Maugrim turned around, and put up his fists.

Klaus lunged again.

Maugrim rolled underneath him, and then kicked him across the back.

Klaus wheeled around, and charged Maugrim who leapt over him, and grabbed him from behind the back.

There was a moment of wrestling as the beast tried to break free.

He kicked, hard.

Maugrim threw him into the clock face.

There was a shattering of glass as Klaus tumble through.

Maugrim looked out, and saw Klaus hanging onto the minute hand.

Maugrim smiled, and prepared to renter the tower.

Klaus whipped out his Lugar, and shot Maugrim in the shoulder.

Maugrim fell, and grabbed onto the same hand that Klaus was dangling on.

There was a small scuffle, with Maugrim and Klaus both kicking each other.

The Clock hand reached one-fifty-five.

Maugrim gritted his teeth as his fingers scrapped against the glass, and Klaus, whose strength wasn't in his arms, screeched like a banshee as he lost his grip.

Klaus fell, and hit the ground like a truck full of bricks.

Maugrim looked down at the broken figure, and then climbed back into the tower.

Then, he ran away from the mansion, knowing that he only had around twenty-three more hours before Hans would set him free.

Hans sighed; it would be a tough mission to replace his now-dead servant.

"A pity," he said as he looked over the dead corpse of his once brutish manservant, "Klaus was my best man, a regular butler. Now, Dr. Jones, I'm afraid it's personal." He upholstered his pistol, and plunged into the jungle.

Maugrim awoke from another day's uncomfortable sleep. His bandaged feet were now blood-stained, burnt, and aching. His body felt like it had been through a taffy-puller, and his stomach growled.

"Ugh," he groaned as he got up from his bed of leaves, "This is getting intolerable. I've been at this for three days almost, and each time, I've nearly lost my life. When will this madness end?"

The steady tread of footsteps told him that Hans was near.

Maugrim got up, and came face to face with his hunter.

"I have you now, Dr. Jones," said Hans coldly, "Truly; you are the most dangerous game. You're the Rainsford to my General Zaroff, and Klaus was my Ivan. You are a most amazing prey; it's almost a pity to shoot you. Alas, now, I'm afraid that it is time to end this little hunt.

"Good," said Maugrim as he socked Hans's right across the snout, "Because I'm tired of being hunted. Let you be the hunted, and see how it feels."

"Dr. Jones," laughed Hans as he got up, "I see that I've underestimated your prowess. You've become more and more like a beast, like your ancestors. No doubt, every thought is now 'How can I escape? How can I survive?' Now, you've killed my servant, you've destroyed my favorite stained-glass window. You've wasted an entire collection of fine knives. You've defaced my clock. You've rumpled my carpets. I should be entitled to a little retribution, shouldn't I? Or am I too 'Uncivilized' for that?"

Maugrim said nothing, and only dashed off into the forest.

"And so the chase continues," Laughed Hans, "I shall play your game, Dr. Jones, and I shall win."

Maugrim was now between the sea and the forest, and there was no way out.

Hans came upon him.

"So, Dr. Jones," he said calmly, "Is there anything left to say?"

"Anything goes." smiled Maugrim as he slowly walked off the cliff, and fell into the ocean.

Hans fired his last round, but missed.

"I see that he's chosen the other way out," he said calmly, "A pity, he had only twelve more hours to go."

He then returned to his mansion, where he sweetly told Helga the news of Maugrims' death. Helga burst into sobs, and Hans tried to make light of it, but failed. He sighed; tomorrow he would hire another helper.

That night, as Hans sat in his study, the Silver Knife resting in a glass case on his mantle, and writing a help-wanted ad to be sent to the paper, he heard the sound of footsteps.

"Hello, Hans," said the cold, rasping voice of Maugrim as he came up behind him, "I'm back."

"And so you are," said Hans as he got up, and turned to face the demonic-looking wolf, "So, tell me, how did you survive?"

"I swam," said Maugrim, "I found it a mite bit easier than walking."

"Well," said Hans coldly, "Let me be the first to congratulate you. You've gone for two days and twenty-three hours without dying. A pity that you've forgotten that I've still got bullets in my gun." he said as he reached for his pistol, puzzled as to why Maugrim only smiled evilly, and pulled the trigger.

There was a cold click.

The gun was spent.

"I'm out," said Hans, "It would appear that I forgot to reload my gun."

"And I've won," said Maugrim coldly as he upholstered his pistol, "You're out of ammo, and I've still got a bullet with your name on it."

"And so you have." said Hans as Maugrim pulled the trigger.

There was a loud BANG, and Hans fell down. He was smiling thinly, at last having finally met his match.

The hunt was over.

Maugrim had won.

Helga came running down the stairs, crying as she plunged into Maugrims arms.

"Shhh," said Maugrim as he cradled her, "its okay, Hans is dead. The hunt is over. I've won. Tomorrow, we'll call the authorities, but for tonight, I've been deprived of decent company and sleep. Let's go to bed.

And with that, the two went into the master bedroom, and slept soundly. For sure, there would be questions from both the police and the press about the extent of Hans's murderous activities, and there might be still relatives who would want compensation, not to mention the fact that Maugrim had killed Hans, even though it WAS in self-defense. But none of that mattered, for now the hunt was over, and Maugrim was still alive, with an artifact in one hand and a beautiful female compatriot. What more could he want?

So, with that, he slept soundly, and on a very comfortable bed, he decided.

The End