The fight was more balanced now. Isis's hair gave her extra limbs and eyes, making up immensely for her lack of experience. My heightened awareness gave me a clear image of everything that was happening around me.
In a way, it was too balanced.
We had been circling each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of us being able to land a blow on the other. I would dart in and be blocked by a spurt of hair, then I would dart away and leave Isis without an easy target. She would launch several different clumps of hair at me and I would dip around them, then she would curl her hair about her and leave me without an opening.
We repeated this dance countless times. No ground was gained or lost, and no blows were traded. It was the most frustrating stalemate I have ever been in.
I knew that all it would take for my victory was a single shot at Isis, one strike at her pressure points would give me the extra edge I needed. The only thing keeping me from this was Isis's blasted hair.
I launched myself into the air, effectively dodging a hairy mouth.
Isis was probably just as frustrated as I was. Her smile was now gone and had been replaced by a look of intense concentration. All she needed for victory was a hard strike to daze me and then she could render me immobile. But, mobility being my trademark, she had yet to lay a hair on me.
My landing was harder than intended and I rolled to avoid turning an ankle. At this point, the victor will be whoever tired first.
Breathing heavily, I came up out of the roll and darted off to the side. Isis batted at me with her hair, but the sluggish motion was easily evaded.
Yeah, sluggish. She's slowing down.
Then I might actually win this.
Isis was slowing down, now that I looked. Her movements were more deliberate and there was less fidgeting in the inactive hair. She had also begun to pull back, saving energy by covering a smaller area. Her hair must require some energy to command.
Taking hope in this small discovery, I slipped out from under another sluggish attack and jumped onto the edging of the stadium's field. From there I was able to use my newfound sight to locate a particularly nasty collection of mines. A long awaited grin curled the corners of my mouth.
Isis, seeing me distracted, launched a single, tightly bound clump of hair my way. The gold missile slammed into the barrier where I had just perched. Now running along the barrier, I let out a laugh, hoping to egg Isis into following me. Exhausted and ready to be done, she raced after me. I took a moment to appreciate how spidery her hair looked while it propelled her across the ground.
When I judge that she had reached her top speed, I used all the power in my legs and all the momentum I had collected, to throw myself off the wall and into the arena. Isis attempted to grab at my foot as I sailed over her, but missed dramatically. I landed, rolled and kept going forwards, but while facing backwards. I flashed my best grin at her, despite my exhaustion, and trotted backwards. Isis's hair tore up the nice even field as it pulled her to a stop and re-directed her at me.
I should be getting close.
Isis began to pick up speed, closing the distance fast.
I really hope I'm close.
Several strands formed mouths and grinned at me.
Please let me be getting close.
Isis freed up a few more strands and began reaching out for me.
Am I even running it the right direction!?!
A hissing rattle answered noisily. Then another sounded.
I decided to run the right way and spun around. Pops and bangs and booms sounded as mines of various sizes exploded around us. Unable to track Isis and the mines at the same time, I focused on where I was putting my feet. It wouldn't do to have me blow up when I was so close to winning.
Then, I was out of mines to dodge. I looked back over my shoulder, then slowed to a stop.
Sure enough, Isis's exhaustion and mass had triggered most of the mines. The inky black smoke clinging to her was indicative of how many direct hits there had been. Curled into a shimmery gold ball, Isis shuddered. She was still alive, but now unable to continue.
The poor girl had literally fought till she dropped.