Taunts were forgotten. Plans were cast aside. The instant the axe buried itself in her, she lost her hard-won composure. It hurt. It hurt [i]it hurt it hurt.[/i] She staggered as [i]Blotklau flew at her.[/i] She'd messed up. Went too far. Didn't go far enough. Wasn't careful. Was it over so fast? Was she—

[color=black]IGNORE IT. FIGHT.[/COLOR] She felt the pain dull. Just enough. An apology. Gratitude. [i]Thank you.[/i]

[i]Blotklau[/i] roared, and Quinn's mind snapped back into focus. 

She abandoned her cannon, and it shattered into fading strands of white light. It would only slow her down now. Then she reached down, ducked a claw—[i]almost[/i], it raked across the back of her head and she bared her teeth—and [i]ripped[/i] the axe from her leg, tossing it aside. Ichor drained in a thick stream. The pain was [i]intense[/i], even through [color=black]Quinnlash's[/color] protection. But not quite enough.

The lessons with Dahlia came flooding back. Just like before, she backstepped, brought her hands up. The claws came faster than her sister's fists ever had. But at least now they weren't slicing her to ribbons so effortlessly. She grimaced. Dahlia. She loved her. She needed to get back to her. And she wouldn't let this cosmic joke stop her.

She ducked under a swiping claw, and found her opening. [i]She[/i] still wasn't flexible. [i]She[/i] still couldn't high kick without straining herself. But she knew the principle.

And [i]she[/i] wasn't [i]Ablaze[/i].

As the hand soared past her, she popped back up. Backed slightly. Feinted a low kick.

Then she swept her leg up, up, over her head and certainly over [i]Blotklau[/i]'s. She [i]roared[/i] right back, ichor flying from her mouth in viscous strands. And with all the weight of gravity, all the force of [i]Blotklau[/i]'s own breakneck advance, and the [i]considerable[/i] strength of a Savior, she slammed it down, right on the point of her enemy's shoulder with a sickening, juddering [i]crack[/i]. 

Then she backed away. Fast. At least as fast as she could.

She'd gotten her space, at least just a little. But she'd hurt Roaki more than she wanted. And [i]she'd[/i] been hurt so, so, [i]so[/i] much more. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. She was [i]lucky[/i]. Very, very lucky. If that hand hadn't gone just the slightest bit wide...

She jumped back further. Stumbled, but kept her footing. [color=black]Quinnlash[/color] numbed her, just enough to keep her on her feet. She was close now. Two minutes. Less. But her whole body was ringing with pain. Those minutes felt like centuries.

She had just enough time to pull her cannon out again before [i]Blotklau[/i] recovered. She didn't dare try to launch herself again, not in this state. But when Roaki came at her again, those shots—those little bursts of movement (not directed at [i]Blotklau[/i], of course)—might be just enough to keep in front.

The seconds ticked by.

The clock ticked down.