Had she planned things to work out this way? Of course not. It had been a hell of a last second, these moments were always tense and this had been no exception. She knew that he could simply keep bending away, at the ankle, the hip, at the shoulders, even if it brought him to a full tilt at his hip in a position of lying on his side on top of her, the point at which she could bend no more. What his bend at the knee and movement of his hips and groin toward her had brought, however, was opportunity. She wouldn’t have reacted in this way if he had remained outstretched above her, but whether she had misjudged her opponent or whether she knew this would invariably happen would be left to the historians of bouts in the arena to discuss. What it did cause was her to turn at her side lifting with her right shoulder to a half lying position herself, her left arm still locked around his right ankle and attempting to put her body weight upon it with her left side directly onto and downwards into his left leg, while she allowed Zande to bring her upper body, along with her arms currently locked around his ankles, towards his center of mass. 

No doubt this would slow his movement, but it wouldn’t stop him. He was larger, stronger, and in no clear position where his leverage would be taken away. She couldn’t stop him from doing this. Beyond keeping him from turning away from the direction his ankles were pointed, in this case to each side and far enough to largely force him to not be able to turn around and get onto his back rather than remain face first in the sand, she would be largely incapable of making him do anything. It wasn’t what she needed, not now. What she needed now was to impress upon this foe the true nature of the law of blood and sand, and with each passing inch as he dragged her closer to himself while his body was planted facing down to the earth below he would approach his eventual doom. It hadn’t taken him a second to reposition his knee and bring his hips and groin toward her, and at the whiff of something decaying and foul she almost stopped in her tracks. Should she be a lesser trained foe she might have hesitated. Aibhilin did not. The monster had forgotten a key point in this equation, one he was aware of but had lost in the confusion. 

She had manipulated his limbs and muscle and tendon groups with her arms, her underarms, elbows, wrists, and had done so for a reason. Now moving toward her with his own body bringing itself closer each moment to her own and, if successful, having crossed his legs below herself atop one another in the movement, at the ankles of course as that was where she had had her own leverage though the shins, knees and thighs attached, so well as the hips and shoulders beyond would still not turn opposite the direction of the ankles upon whom rested the body weight of a large adult woman well-muscled and experienced in grappling, he would be reminded the importance of this seemingly obscure bit of information. Had he moved away from her at the groin he might have escaped the peril now awaiting him entirely. Had he been wearing different footwear he would have noticed this a moment before. In the end this was the path which the sand had set before the two combatants, and the one that would be tread upon by them unto at least one of their deaths. This was the path where the opponent, distracted or perhaps unaware, had forgotten all about the danger of the small piece of metal held in her right hand. 

Thrusting with as much power as could be mustered from a straight shot lying on one’s side, which even though she could and would attempt to put her right hip into the blow by bending at the right shoulder and kicking the hip out as well as using her body weight and leverage over his legs to put a counterbalance and driving point into his legs and the ground below with her opposite side was still not much even for such an intimidating opponent, but which had been boosted exponentially by the fact that her opponent’s momentum and mass were traveling in the opposite, conflicting and antagonistic direction relative to her strike, which made this a plausible course of action even if she was met by steel. She was aiming for the groin of the monster which had farted in her general direction, straight, under and past his skirts which from her angle was easy enough for the maximum chance at avoiding entanglement and potential metal plates sewn into the material. Should the blow meet with flesh or with mail or plate through which it, meant clearly as a stabbing weapon shaped for armor penetration managed to penetrate, she would then drag along and down his thigh, aiming to complicate his femoral artery and potentially leave him a stuck, bleeding, neutered eunuch of a pig on the sand.

She could and would have attempted to simply thrust through or slash across his Achilles tendon after taking him to the ground, but it was no great secret that he wore significant boots and, before he had moved, her arm would have been close enough to lean over and thrust toward his groin, but at an extreme angle contrary to her own. With this movement he had managed to give her what she needed, an opposite force with which to be dragged into better position and a clearly presented target which could cause the kind of damage she needed to inflict to have a reasonable chance of escape. He would still need to turn and swing or attempt to reverse her position or take his own before being able to get his own blades into her in return and, if successful, Aibhilin would have just inflicted a humiliating and deeply effective blow, likely significant enough to buy her time to reposition and move into the next phase of the combat. At worst he would manage to somehow, without having much of a clear line of sight on her especially from that angle, back, over, and behind his own ass to the opposite side and under his skirts, deflect the blow entirely, but she doubted it would be disarmed entirely.