The ghastly forest was a chilling sight, which confirmed for Fionn more than anything else that his body was in a dead zone - the sprite set the shape of their arena, but under normal circumstances the ubiquitous flow of data would have populated it. Rather than alive with the dance of inter-node traffic, the trees were transparent, and yet not; where birds should alight the branches, there was nothing. No foliage, nor underbrush, just a creeping mist at his feet. There was a certain intrinsic wrongness to this environment, and he could do nothing to abate it. He did not, however, have to let it defeat him.
In the mist that was the forest floor, he caught the edges of a wispy trail before it vanished. Whether it was that of the sprite he struggled against, or of their mutual prey, he could not know. No matter the source, though, he was confident following it would be to his advantage. Taking a cue from what the wolf had done in their initial encounter, he let his form spread through the trees, and a dozen images of himself mirrored his movements as he followed the trail. It may be this sidhe expects that this will be easy. That would not be a wise assumption to make...
Off to his left, he thought that he heard something - but he could not be sure. His mind may well have been playing tricks on him. You must keep hold of yourself, lest all be lost.
The trail led him to a small clearing with a cliff overlooking it. While most saw the prey, a shade of a stag, one of his many selves saw a new trail leading up a path to reach the clifftop; Fionn recognized the significance of it at once. A hunter indeed, lying in wait and letting his prey draw in towards him... If I am to win his respect, beating him with his own methods would be effective indeed.. He allowed the form that found the trail to take the path up to the clifftop, making as though ready to leap down upon the stag and strike. For his own part, Fionn's true self made ready to hurl the spear. And he waited, watching with one hidden pair of eyes the space behind his bait-double. Sure enough, the massive, otherworldly wolf coalesced behind the figure. Hold... I need to time this perfectly....
As the beast drew nearer, the double made ready to strike. Believing it was about to lose it's moment, the hunter leapt for the figure - precisely as intended; the figure vanished the moment the wolf was committed to the leap. In a flurry of motion, Fionn brought his doubles into himself, hurled the spear at the stag, called forth a new weapon (a sword, this time), and made to intercept the wolf's trajectory as it fell, having overshot the cliff without an impact to slow it. In the next second, the spear took the stag in the neck, as Fionn collided with the sprite in the air. They wrestled for position in the air, the beast coming out on top. It made directly for Fionn's neck - but stopped cold as the edge of Fionn's blade came up against its throat.
"Hm. You have let your prey come to you, leaping into the jaws of it's own end. A far better showing than I had expected, arlasaí. Quite well indeed, given that you've matched wits against a power greater than you'd intended. You shall have my respect, young one; call upon me when you have need." The voice rumbled in his head, but somehow all aggression had gone out of it.
With that, the wolf vanished, taking with him the wasteland he'd called up. Fionn was relieved indeed to be out of the woods, so to speak, but unsure what it meant about being a power greater than he'd intended to call.
Back in meatspace, his eye's opened some five hours after he'd begun. He checked himself for signs that he'd endured some harm, but the only sign of the ordeal was a dull ache behind his eyes. It had been hours, and yet seemed not to take even one - familiar as it was, this incongruity of the passage of time was something he still hadn't gotten used to. Getting up to stretch his legs for a moment, he went to look out the cabin window before going to bed, appreciating the beauty of the forest as seen though nothing more than moonlight.
