The red silk gown split down the spine with a sound like one long, satisfied sigh. Seliza unfolded from it ring by ring, forty meters of crimson muscle uncoiling around the tent.
The tent poles creaked, shrieked and finally splintered like kindling beneath her widening coils.
'Oh, that is better, nothing like a proper stretch after a long, civilized dinner.'
"Darling, you're about to lose... you'll enjoy it," she said, her voice rolling from the great throat, silk-smooth and everywhere at once.
Her coils swept the tent from its stakes, flinging silk and braziers into the dark like autumn leaves. Somewhere outside an old man on a stump went suddenly airborne, still furiously shouting about her poisoned hospitality.
The masked servants were gone, which proved they were wiser than her guests.
"Everybody behind me!" Hajin roared, the Chain whipping into Wall mode across the trampled snow.
