We kept circling. I slowed my automatic dance, the forward and back movement that kept my weight from resting too long on one foot and made me less likely to be on it when someone tried to hit me.
The second time Kie struck, it wasn't a backhanded finger tap. I saw her eyes lock at the last possible second and when she punched at my solar plexus, I had enough time to deflect but not completely block. The blow landed on my ribs and it hurt but it didn't slow me down or knock the air out of me. I was slightly turned, as if brushing past her in a crowded hallway, and I let my momentum carry me farther, snapping out the arm I'd blocked her punch with and connecting a backhanded punch to her temple.
It didn't connect completely. I hit more ear than temple, but it was a solid blow and I saw her automatic movement before she could stop it as she shook off the punch.
Good. She'd felt that.
I was moving past her though, about three-quarters turned from her, and I saw her start after me. My weight was too far forward on the leg furthest away from her and there was no way to pivot or thrust well. But I brought up my following leg and backkicked, catching her a glancing blow off the ribs, my foot sliding to the outside of her body.
She curled inward, that flowing thing again, and most of the force of my kick just dissipated as I stumbled forward, turning to face her.
She was already on me and this time I didn't manage to block the punch. It came screaming up at me, heading for my throat, but I was off balance and falling toward her. I used it, pushing myself so the strike hurt, but it didn't catch my throat full center.
She had her balance but she was moving toward me, convinced I'd continue to nearly fall away from her. Instead, I turned to face her and brought my right foot up in a roundhouse, toes flexed back hard so the ball of my foot would catch her. She tried to duck, flowing away, but there wasn't time, and where I'd aimed for her jaw instead I connected solidly with her temple.
I saw her eyes close involuntarily before she forced them open, shaking her head like a dog shaking water off its coat. Good. I'd rung her bell. I was turned back to her and I pressed my advantage, following up with a series of punches aimed at midsection and head, trying to change them up and catch her, aiming my kicks low, to the low belly that would cramp her up and make her drop, to the thigh which would definitely charley horse.
She hadn't been rung hard enough. She backed up about three steps and when I tried my third front kick, meant to push her back again because I was coming too close, she reached down leaving her face unguarded and grabbed my foot, twisting savagely so it pointed to the inside of my body.
I spun. There was no time to think about it. The technique could wrench or sprain an ankle or knee. I threw myself over my own leg, spinning through the air. The leg she didn't have hold of clipped her in passing, but it only hit her shoulder, throwing us both a little off kilter and nothing else.
My speed and spin broke her hold on me, but I landed on one foot, wobbled, went down on hands and knees and somersaulted out of the position before she could hit me.
The only thing accomplished was she no longer held on to me. Neither of us would have scored a point (in a point competition, we would have probably been stopped and yelled at for the variety of techniques we'd used that were illegal in competition).
This wasn't competition.
This was real. She rushed me as I stood from the forward roll and shot up into the air, another backkick and a good one, flying, and this time I had the power and thrust behind it. If it had connected with her torso it would have put her down, on her ass, on her back, whatever, probably with the air knocked out of her.
But she learned fast. She avoided the kick, blocked it hard enough to send me faltering back to the ground and hit me in the kidneys with a straight hard punch that felt like a ton of overheated bricks being driven directly into my body.
I let the force of it propel me forward, getting me away from her, giving me time to process the pain and stick it down somewhere deep which I never seemed to manage when Cole did things to me but did when I fought.
For the next several minutes we exchanged punches and kicks. I was learning her flowing thing, the way she drifted in and out of range, and which way she most often went. It depended on what she was avoiding, but more often she favored moving to her right, being right-handed, that made sense.
She was getting an idea of my kicks, though I hadn't used any sidekicks. The TKD sidekick is major powerful and if pulled back fast enough, snapped out and snapped back, your foot doesn't get trapped like my front kick had.
She wouldn't be expecting it. So far most of my techniques had been straight forward or only came around from the side because she was right in my face.
My right leg was more powerful than my left; I was right-handed also. This was the first time in the fight I'd had an opportunity to plan anything. I executed a series of punches that had her moving away from me, again favoring her right, and I pushed that, striking more to her left side or the center of her body, letting her travel, letting her hands rise to try and protect her face.
I wasn't aiming for her face. I didn't want to hit her.
I wanted to open her up.
When she finally took a step to her right, planning a kick or punch she never had time to deliver, I was already standing slightly turned to my left, her right front leg in a loose back stance so my rear leg already bore my weight.
When her hands went up to block a punch that was meant to miss, especially directed to her left, I rocked back on my left leg, cocked my right, pivoted on my left, snapped my right leg out, using knife edge and heel to make contact with her lower belly, a vulnerable target, and felt my foot impale her before I snapped it back.
I hesitated, right leg barely touching the floor, waiting for another chance as she bent, gasping, and I reared back to try another kick. I'd hoped to have a chance to do a kind of haymaker uppercut under her chin but the timing and our stances weren't right. Instead I kicked out.
At the same time she let the pain drop her, falling backwards, sweeping my supporting leg out from under me.
But she still fell back.
And though initially tangled with her, I fell onto my side, slapping the floor with my left arm to redirect the energy of the fall, taking it on shoulder rather than elbow, and at the same time bringing up my right leg.
I'd rather have had my left, but it was pinned under Kie's.
I brought my right heel down on her solar plexus and heard the air explode out of her, leaving her gasping and vulnerable. Her body seized and her limbs didn't quite know what to do with themselves yet. I lifted my leg again, ready to slam it down into her exposed throat and end this once and for all.
Cole was over us in an instant, shouting. "Hold!"
My leg hesitated, trembled, and fell just past Kie's shoulder. I scrambled back on my ass and hands, getting out of range of her while figuring out what Cole was doing. I didn't want to be close to Kie. We were well matched but she was instinctively lethal.
I had to think about it, and that put me at a disadvantage.
Cole dragged me unceremoniously to my feet. Then he stood over Kie and grabbed her clothes at her waist, dragging her up until her back arched, her shoulders and heels touching the floor. A second later she gave a tremendous gasp, air starting back into her lungs. He set her down then and she began gagging, retching and coughing until the air was moving in and out of her lungs again the way it was supposed to.