Jack continued running. He was starting to tire. The andrenaline was wearing off. He stopped and looked around. He decided he really didn't want to be followed, and he was willing to take drastic measures to ensure he wasn't. He stood there for a second, then he thought of it. Fire. If he could make a large enough fire the smoke would mask his scent. He didn't want to set the forest ablaze, but he didn't want to be followed either. He dropped his bag, rummaged through it, then pulled out a matchbook. He took out a few matches, lit them all, then threw the lit matches into various bushes which quickly caught fire. He grinned wickedly, then continued running.