As the scholar-poets say: sometimes it do be like that.
I rest in the hollow of a rock and peek out at the two riders who have emerged from the grasses to hunt for me: the one whose beast did not become distracted is loudly admonishing her partner, the one who did. I begin scrambling up the hill--if I can lose them on the other side, perhaps I'll have another half-day before they can catch up to me. Is there a place ahead where I might ambush them?