Pulls stool

With the serpent choking and thrashing, Ryn dodged between his legs, bounced to the wall, the ceiling, and alighted on his spine. But his venom weighed her down and he bucked hard, sending her to the floor; he shouldered a workstation over and pinned her by the waist.
His laughter echoed, interrupted by a wet cough that brought up sizzling mucus; he laughed again, louder, as he leaned his tonnage onto the workstation. A loud pop and jolt of pain signaled the dislocation of Ryn’s hip. Reflexively, she snapped a tether from her kanaf around a distant stool, jerking it into her palm, swinging it in line as he made to swallow her. He snapped his teeth closed on the stool, and she twisted it, jamming his maw open.
But the metal bowed. The bolts strained. He had her.
Almost. Bracing the stool with her shoulder to keep him at bay, her kanaf opened to let Wes’s batarang fall into a gap between two knuckles. She took aim and flung it, curving the whizzing steel around the room, to a stack of half-knocked-over gas canisters where it clipped off the stems of two pressurized tubes. They jetted like two steel torpedoes and one pounded Saxby in the ribs, setting off another hacking fit that teetered him, taking his weight momentarily off her.
Wriggling from the debris, she lashed her kanaf onto her right leg, using one sharp tug to sink the ball joint into its socket. She bit off a scream, rolling to her feet.


Chapter 17, Page 269