He jumps up, turns, and starts moving forward in a fluid motion, someone his size shouldn't be able to do, but he made it look like nothing. He reaches me, grabs for my arm, and I turn out of his grasp only to be caught by his other arm. I take a swing, attempting to free myself from his massive hand. He didn't let go, but I know the contact affected him by the look on his face. We keep this dance up for a little while. Close combat is something I'm good at. My size usually requires it, but it's difficult for my larger friends. I will take any advantage I can get.
He grabs my wrist, spins me, aiming for a headlock, but he overestimates my height and I slip back under his arm, pulling him with me. He aims a punch at my rib cage, which knocks all my breath out of my body, and I see a flash of white for a brief second with the pain. He pulls down on my wrist, trying to get me to the ground again. I roll and hit him in the chest with a strong kick, but it was enough. He stumbles back, looks at me, and smiles. It's the most wickedly playful smile I've ever seen. The fire in his eyes lets me know I'm in deep trouble.
He takes two running steps, jumps, and shifts in mid-air. I don't hesitate to run forward, slide under his shifting form, and shift to my wolf as I stand to all fours. His massive rust-colored wolf faces me, his head tipped low to the ground, both amber eyes locked on me, muscles rippling, tensed, and ready to pounce on me.
My wolf shifts its chest low to the ground, ready for anything. We can jump head-on or dodge either right or left. The benefit to being small is I'm always close to the ground, and I know how to brace my center of gravity.
He charges at me, and my wolf dodges right, aiming a bite at his front left leg. He's too quick for us, though, and pivots just out of reach, whipping his hind legs around to barrel into our side. We take the hit and absorb it in a roll, back to our feet before he can pounce. We charge at him this time, taking the offense, and he lowers his head anticipating a head-on attack. Instead, we jump up and over his head, landing on his back, another benefit to being smaller.
We sink our teeth into the scruff of his neck and clamp down like our life depends on it. He flails around, trying to knock us off, but we extend our claws and hang on for the ride. When I look back on this, I may laugh at the idea of me riding on his back like a horse. But, right now, I'm determined to win this battle and survive. He whips his head down, trying to throw me forward, but my claws are doing me proud right now. As I have the thought, though, I feel a ripple under his skin, and he shifts below me, dropping to the ground in human form. My weight follows him down, but he tosses me sideways, and I shift to match him, shoving the thought of being completely naked to the very back of my mind.
He runs at me and drops low, shoving his shoulder into my hips and lifting me off the ground. We are both so sweaty at this point that he can't get a good hold on me, and I go up and over his shoulder. Whipping my arm over his shoulder and putting him in a headlock. My height gives me an advantage since he has to bend backward almost in half in this position.
"TIME!" Another trainer shouts.
I let go of Warrior Nickolas and step back, my friends are clapping and laughing behind me.
"Here." A very large shirt is thrust in front of me.
"I figured this would be easier than trying to get back in your teeny tiny stuff, just to have to shift again,"
"That's what a fight should look like," Nickolas shouts, still breathing heavily from the fight. "She didn't just do the bare minimum and stay out of range. You will almost never find a fight like that. She found opportunities to go on the offensive and take control of the fight instead of waiting for things to happen. She used her size to her advantage, was quick to observe my movements, and learned throughout the fight. She has clearly seen a lot; experience makes us wiser and better, not age. Many of you would do well to remember that."
