Jo and Dean are off doing something - the meeting with Oracle is over, so Rachel couldn't care less. Besides, she already pulled Jo aside and swore to cover her in cockroaches if she leaves the farm and leaves Rachel behind.

There's no way Rachel would ever collect a bucket of cockroaches, even to throw on Jo, but intimidation works well.

Even if her arm is going to bruise from that punch later on.

She'll worry about that later. Right now, she's got hours of waiting to do that can translate into training time. About five miles out from the Cooper farm, she'd morphed Hork-Bajir and done what they do best - cut into a tree. A thick branch, one that could be cut up into five or six thick, short pieces, set up a hundred yards away or so.




The gunshots won't be too audible from the farmhouse, but they're sure as hell audible to Rachel. She manages not to wince with each pull - humans are deaf and she's ignored gun blasts before as a dog, she can certainly do it like this.

Her gun is a six-shooter. Every time she empties, she walks over to inspect the stumps she'd set up, frowns and curses a couple of times, then wanders back to her point to re-load and try again.