wall, spilling some of his prizes from shelves, and fell to
the floor. Quickly she rose to her feet and turned back to
the fight.
She flew straight at him again, and he braced himself for
her frontal charge. At the last second before impact, she
stopped, and hung, frozen, just inches from him and,
pulled from behind her a large mahogany splinter that she
had grabbed after falling. She stabbed it forward into his
belly and danced back out of his reach. He roared out his
anger once more, but this time, she also heard pain in his
cry.
“You’re finished,” she yelled at him, enraging him. “You’re
weak.” Again, she flew at him. She aimed her fangs for his
neck, her arms ready to thwart any defensive moves. But
the Baron was ready for her, and made no defensive move
but allowed her to fully penetrate to her target. At that
point, he enfolded her in his massive arms and began to
squeeze. Lisle knew right away that she had miscalculated.
His strength was still great, and his battle experience so
much more profound than her own. She felt one of her rib
bones crack as he continued applying pressure. As she
struggled, his fangs bit into her shoulder. Pain surged
through her, and she spun in his arms, trying to break free
of his grasp. She wrapped both her legs around one of his
and felt his balance tested. She rocked hard to her right
and he stumbled and fell, breaking his grip upon her. She
would not underestimate him again.
He flew at her, swinging both fists at her head. One blow
caught her chin and she was momentarily stunned. He
tried to press the advantage, but her recovery was too
quick for him. She bit into his arm, tasting the age-old
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