Snippet #1723218

Being grabbed from above wasn't quite what Charles had in mind, neither was being lifted by the mass of muscle. His toes left the ground and his mind snapped into overdrive. He knew he was being brought backwards, he knew he had no ability to end this by simply planting his feet. He'd even gone as far to lose his momentum, but this folly had given him chance. Gripping tightly to the fur of the werewolf's middle with his left hand he brought back his right straightened his fingers and thumb into a streamline shape and stomped his feet into the ground if only for an instant to give himself a base before Maria's momentum swept his feet out from under him again. This base would allow him to thrust the spear pointed hand up under the bottom ribs of Maria and into her chest. She could do little to avoid it, he could do little other than it. Were the strike to hit perfectly it would break skin, perhaps bone, and push inside of the ribs, or slip between them exposing the insides of the werewolf.