Angua suddenly became aware of the sound of feet echoing off the walls in the street behind her.

Furious with herself for not staying alert, she turned a corner and then crouched behind a couple of empty barrels close by a lamppost. She wanted to let whoever was trailing her get closer so she could get a good look at him.

There was another noise, too, but she couldn't place it, which was rare for Angua. It was soft and squeaky, somehow, as if made by rubber and metal. She froze.

Her pursuer came closer and closer, and then, out of the night came the call.

"Buggerit! Millennium hand and shrimp!"

The shrill voice was clearly recognisable even though the inherent message wasn't. Angua's nostrils puckered up involuntarily, but thankfully the beggar seemed to be out on his own. The Smell was nowhere to be seen. Or smelt.

But there was someone else with Foul Ole Ron, she noticed, when the two entered the small pool of light.

A female apparition of uncertain but advanced age was pushing a strange, wheeled wire-frame basket in front of her, filled to the brim with weird-looking bags. The two of them were seemingly engaged in a friendly conversation, although on what mental astral plane it was taking place, Angua didn't know.

The old hag – Angua had to assume that she was female – suddenly stopped in the middle of the lit area and faced towards the barrels. Angua knew that it was impossible for anyone to see her, and yet the woman was staring straight at her.

Angua tensed, preparing for something, anything, but when it came she was still taken completely by surprise. The old crone started to dance a jig.

She gathered her many petticoats in her hands and did a couple of steps, still looking very intently towards Angua's hiding place. Angua on her side stared in morbid fascination at the display. She could see the woman's spindly, hairy legs and varicose calves as she danced faster and faster.

"Tuppence more and up goes the donkey," the elderly woman cackled with glee as she twirled.

Ron stood on her side, looking at her display with apparent admiration, but then you could never be sure with Ron. And then, as abruptly as she had begun, the old woman stopped.

She retrieved her strange, wheeled basket and the two companions continued their squeaky stroll as if nothing had happened.

It took Angua a moment or two to collect herself and register what had been said, and when she did the beggar and the bag lady had already turned the corner and disappeared.

Could it really be, she thought? Had the answer been there, right in front of them this whole time, and they hadn't seen it?

What was the saying again? Yes. You sometimes don't see the forest for all the trees, that was it. Such an obvious camouflage, and she had been tricked by it. And she called herself a hunter?

-----

His muscles were like coiled steel springs now, almost vibrating under the pent-up tension, aching to release His wrath on the Lesser Creature in front of him.

He had waited long enough, he decided. The ungodly had to be punished once and for all, and only His fire would cleanse them. He threw himself at his victim, taking the Creature completely by surprise.

But he had misjudged the speed with which the Creature reacted. Before he had a chance to get his hands on its windpipe to shut it up, the Lowly One had got its hands up to fight him off. It was futile, of course, since no one could resist His power, but it took him just a little too long to get through its defences.

-----

The night air filled with a horrified scream.

Angua swore under her breath and set off in the direction it had emanated from. The labyrinth that was the Shades offered a thousand secluded spots for the Donkey to strike at his victims, but this time she at least had the advantage of knowing how the Donkey operated, and approximately what he looked like.

She raced on, gaining speed, swerving through the narrow alleyways towards the general area from which the scream had come, back towards Fan Tan Alley.

Normally she wouldn't have bothered, but now she blew into her whistle in order to alert other watchmen in the area to the fact that a colleague was in mortal danger. Angua knew that Mister Vimes had placed as many men as possible in the vicinity of the Shades for this very eventuality, and they would respond immediately to this distress call. She ran on, all the while cursing her stupidity. If only she had realised things a little bit sooner, this wouldn't have happened.

The voice had been familiar, even though it had been distorted with terror. It was Colon's.

-----

He fought silently, not wasting any energy by making a sound, even though he felt His anger welling up inside like a cloud of fire, making him want to roar like a dragon. It was fighting back, flailing in desperation, but He had it by the throat. He could feel it's strength draining in the presence of His might. His were the Hands of the One God, and now the Mortal Creature would perish!! Such ecstasy, such infinite joy to serve Him!!! This truly was Enlightenment!!!!

His fingers, already clamped around the neck of his victim, closed their grip ever harder, ever firmer, effectively shutting off the air supply from his gasping, shuddering prey.

-----

Angua heard other watchmen running towards her as she dashed through the last couple of alleys towards her goal, but she knew that no one would be able to catch up with her. That was the way it should be. Angua made sure she kept in good shape1, and she didn't want anyone else to lay their hands on this one. He was hers!

As she turned the last corner she saw Colon's outline in the dim glow of the streetlight. He was up against a wall with a familiar-looking "woman" pressed against him. They were struggling back and forth, her hands around his neck, flecks of blood on his cheeks and a look of abject horror in his bulging eyes.

So she had been right, after all!

-----

1 It was a standing joke in the Watch house, but one that was never uttered when Angua was present.