She was trying to goad me. She would have to try much harder. Already she was panting and breathing sloppily. My breath and heartbeat never spiked. It was about control. She held little control of her body. I did not. But the game of cat and mouse grew tiresome. On her next lung I side stepped but held my hand out, smacking her hard in the chest. She collapse to the ground and struggled to breath for a moment.
Then she exploded. Clothing was torn to shreds and replaced by fur the color of mud. She wanted to fight with real claws. Good for her. It affected the outcome of the match about as much as a lone ant affects a glacier on the other of the world. I spun in a swift circle to gain momentum and sent a hard kick to her side the sent her sprawling across the lawn. "Your form is sloppy," I
