For many moments the two women stand still, staring at one another but otherwise motionless; all to fill the suspense is the crispy crackles of pops of burning leaves and branches. It seems only the creeping flames threaten, 'til a third air-splitting arc of lightning crackles with another flash of white. Where Hisame expects pain she is met with [i]noise,[/i] [b]loud[/b] and near, and when the flicker fades, she feels the weight of the leaning trunk pressing down with [i]cracks[/i] of splintering wood. She involuntarily spans her arms astride in some laughable effort to keep the ancient resident from falling, and if she didn't move now, its advance would be dangerous; its weight: crushing...

...killing...

...[i]slamming[/i] into the ground with a terrific [b]THUD[/b].

The earth rumbles and a blast of air strikes the fire sideways momentarily, kicking up clouds of dust and ash in its heavy rest. When it settles, all to be seen of Hisame are her limbs and hair beneath the trunk which had smashed her like an ant under a shoe. Yet she holds the katana in a deathgrip as the tongues of fire lick flesh and fabric alike to burn her to nothing where she lay, but only if left unfettered.