The air exploded in a flash of bone and steel and blood. The clash of metal rang through the forest. An arrow pierced through the darkness, its barbed head tearing through flesh and muscle. A roar echoed off of the mountains far to the west. A cry broke through soon after. Then silence. Char stood over a pile of black fur and red blood. He held a curved sword, jagged half way down the wide blade and hilted in bone. He held a large thick bow in the other. Lorfel and Ranur stood behind him, panting. Lorfel, a short man of twenty six held a large axe in both hands and still prepared to swing it hard. Ranur, the largest of the three held a pike in one hand, its tip hanging low towards the ground. He buried his other hand in his gray tunic. "Did it get either of you?" Char's voice rasped low in the silence of the night. "No" Lorfel said. He planted his axe head on the ground with a thud and leaned on the tall handle. There was a pause. Char turned towards Ranur. "Are you hurt?" "Mm...My hand." Ranur took his hand out of his tunic. Moonlight gleamed red off of the ragged wound. Char thought he saw a glimmer of bone. "Did he claw you or bite you?" Char's voice held an urgency that set both Lorfel and Ranur on edge. Ranur paused and then spoke low. "He bit me." Char picked Lorfel and Ranur as his hunting partners for their speed and sharpness in battle. They had hunted beasts of the deep woods all of their lives. They hunted the beasts that hunted men. They all knew the risks of battling such creatures. The old man dropped his curved sword, drew his bow, and fired. The arrow hammered into Ranur's chest, burying itself in his heart. Lorfel saw the gleaming arrow head sticking almost a foot out of his companion's back. Ranur fell face first to the ground. According to the above context, answer the following question. Who bit Ranur?
OPTIONS:
- the beast
- Lorfel
- not enough information
- Char

Answer: the beast

Question: The drive up to Rick's place in the hills always made me sick. Just after he bought the house with his ill gotten gains from his band's over-hyped, over-marketed, and over-bought sophomore Disc, he drove me out to see it in his beautiful but nauseating '70 Datsun 240 Z. All the smog combined with the pinball effects of winding up the hill at teeth-numbing speeds had me puking for an hour after we got there. I took the last turn at the top of the hill and watched the rising sun crest over the black blocks of the city, her angel wings soiled and cheapened with the soot of 12 million get-away drivers. Rick's house came into view out of the fog, its large glass panes sparkling like the last clean surface of an oversized ashtray. I parked between a blue hatchback and Rick's favorite toy: a 350 horsepower Impreza he had smuggled here from Japan. All his more expensive rides were in the garage, collecting dust and gaining vintage resale value. I rang the bell. I waited and watched a couple of squirrels fight over a small treasure in the bushes. The door opened. "Dingo." "Hey, Luna." Her job as Rick's assistant was to take care of his place while he was out being a rock star. She made sure all his bills were paid, his animals were fed, and that the subsequent fallout from any parties she might have in his absence didn't leave any lasting damage. She was pretty by most standards, gorgeous by others. Short with a tight schoolgirl body and raven hair that teased her avian shoulders. But by whatever standard, her beauty was like a rare and exotic bird she kept caged behind the bars of her perfect teeth. As soon as she opened her mouth it flew away. According to the above context, answer the following question. Dingo thinks that:
OPTIONS:
- It would be nice to go see Luna.
- The speed Dingo drives up the hill makes him enjoy the ride even more
- Going to Rick's house is a pain
- not enough information
Answer: Going to Rick's house is a pain

Question: Paul Reynolds crisscrossed his sketchbook with furious strokes, filling the pages with images of the vengeance he would take on his former coworkers at Fear and Loading Games. He'd founded the company three years back and, just a few hours ago, his partners and erstwhile friends had fired him without cause or warning. He concentrated hard as his pen brought to life demonic figures from one of the best-selling comics he'd created, scythe wielding cyber-men called Myrmidons who tore into surprised computer programmers with fangs and claws. Elsewhere on the page, computers assembled themselves into 21st century Golems, rising up against traitorous CEO's and producers to crush them to bloody pulp as they cowered beneath their desks. Sitting at the bar in Senor Goldstein's Mexican Restaurant in San Jose, California, Paul's own artwork engaged him for the first time in months, maybe years. Under other circumstances, that would have made him happy. But today's circumstances allowed only two emotions: despair and a burning desire for revenge. Not wanting to succumb to the former, and not quite wanting to find a gun and go back to the office, he instead drew. He had turned to a fresh page and begun to sketch his most elaborate revenge-scheme yet when a woman walked into his line of vision. There were four or five other women in the restaurant already (most of them employees), but this one stood out. This one would've stood out anywhere. Her hair, cut short and spiky, was dyed a magenta so bright it nearly glowed. She wore a tight black t-shirt, baggy olive drab shorts that hung on shapely hips, and heavy black boots with two inch thick soles. She had a faded black messenger bag slung across her chest, the strap pressing between her breasts. If Paul had to guess, she wasn't wearing a bra. She definitely wasn't your average Silicon Valley techie on an early lunch break, and certainly not a restaurant employee. According to the above context, answer the following question. Who had short magenta hair?
OPTIONS:
- Paul's coworker
- not enough information
- The woman in the restaurant
- Paul
Answer:
The woman in the restaurant