He is a tall, dark blur beside her, and that is how she knows he is keeping up. She sprints with incautious abandon, tearing frantically down street after street as the sounds of their slavering, snarling herd of pursuers grow ever and ever louder.

Run, hisses Raleigh. Get outta here, Mako.

For her part, she would love to. Unfortunately, she sees a very simple, unpleasant way out of the predicament.

She peels away from her companion, sprints down a narrow strip of alleyway, and lashes out recklessly with one foot, sending a contingent of aluminum trash cans cascading loudly to the ground with a roaring, angry clatter.

They like noise.

Oh, and she'll give them noise.

She does not yell. She simply sends another knot of trash cans clanging to the ground, and hopes it will be enough of a distraction. If he keeps running, he will make it.

He will have to.