If Hisame had assumed that the lightning strike was all Procella could muster, she would now be proven sorely wrong.  The spirit had struck the woman with a smaller bolt before, and had attacked in several other ways as well, none of which had caused any lasting injury.  More and more would be required.  And so, while charging her great bolt from above, Procella had also been preparing in other ways.

Hacking into the nearby trees with her knife had not been a mere symptom of madness, but also a part of her attack.  With the storm now raging, her body was far stronger than any mundane woodsman, and her cuts rent deep into the aging wood, undermining the integrity of the plants almost to the point of collapse.

And when the lightning [i]did[/i] strike, that was her cue.  Swinging around and lashing out with one leg, she kicked the nearest tree with all her terrible strength, snapping what little remained of its trunk and sending it toppling towards Hisame.  As soon as this was done, she flung out one arm, sending a crackling bolt into one tree while moving to kick another down, both to follow the first in their sudden fall.  Even if Hisame had recovered enough to move with the speed necessary to try and avoid the first trunk, its branches would likely pin her while the second and third came down to crush her.

The mist might come regardless, for Hisame was powerful indeed, but she had badly miscalculated in her attack.  They were in the midst of a [i]storm[/i] at this moment, and no paltry gale at that!  As soon as the mist appeared, it would be blown away, dispersed by the raging winds, shattered before it could spread or thicken enough to do much harm.  Perhaps it was not ordinary mist, perhaps it had a spiritual component.  But then, this was no ordinary storm either, a tempest of a similarly unnatural nature.

Of course, Hisame had been crushed by trees before, and it was doubtful that this would be enough to put her down for good.  But Procella had thought forward one step further still.  Before leaving the heights of the forest, she had stabbed her knife in the bark where she sat in the branches.  When she had knocked down these trees, it had fallen with them.

And now, she had but to strike out from it at her enemy, time and time again.  The power she could muster for these bolts would be nothing like that of the lightning from before, but it would still be hardly insignificant.  If Hisame tried to escape, she would find herself struck from an unexpected angle, her limbs forced to spasm as sparks lanced out time and time again.  While her opponent was pinned, the storm spirit could strike thus time and time again, until only dust remained of the cursed swordswoman.