Max barely managed to return the ball, a desperate flick of her wrist sending it wobbling just over the net. She scrambled to regain her stance, lungs burning, but the tall, lithe figure on the other side of the court was already airborne.
Elara leaped with the effortless grace of a hunting cat, her long black hair whipping behind her as she smashed the ball directly into the corner of the court.
Max lunged, her sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, but the speed was impossible. Her knees buckled before she could even square up, and she went down hard, sliding flat onto the court.
With a muffled cry of frustration, Max tossed her racket aside and sprawled out.
Strength was one thing, but to have that kind of verticality with such a commanding frame was borderline cheating.
Even the most powerful beast usually stayed grounded by the laws of gravity, but Elara seemed to treat the air like her own private territory.
