About twice a week, when I come home from work, Korra is not there to greet me. She knows full well that I have arrived home, and she hides from me. This means that she wants to play hunter, a game in which she is the hunter and I am the hunted. To accept her invitation, I must go out into the backyard. There is a huge open space, and I must walk to about the middle of the playground. The game begins when Korra briefly pokes her dorsal fin out of the ground, like a shark in the ocean. From that moment on, I begin to run from her. At a certain point, tons of earth fly into the air as Korra straightens her body above the surface. Her roar is deafening, and her physical strength makes both admire and fear her. As she continues the chase, first few steps, her muscular quadriceps, tear through hundreds of pounds of dirt and turf, like a muscular woman cutting through a body of water with her legs. Then she climbs out onto the ground in her full height and starts running after me very quickly. Each step she takes makes the ground shake. When I hear behind me TOOM! TOOM!!! TOOM!!! I understand that the game is almost over. As a rule, on the fourth, fifth, or sixth step, my body is embraced by her muscular arms. My feet come off the ground, and I am caught. Now I, as the loser of this game, will be licked from heels to the top of my head by the sticky tongue of a joyful dragon, whose hunt was once again crowned with success.