3: Fight to the Death

Fight to the Death

ELIA

That terrifying man roared a command to start, and all the women in the circle immediately tensed from their almost prayerful stances to half-crouched on the balls of their feet, as the crowd surrounding them cheered.

Briefly, no one seemed to know what to do. The women all looked at each other, but no one moved. For a single breath, Elia hoped perhaps none of these women were going to fight. Until a feminine snarl erupted from Elia's right and she turned to watch a woman—graceful, though clearly strong and painted entirely in fur—leap on the back of the woman closest to her, who was painted in swirls and spirals. The fur-painted woman took the other's head between both hands and twisted her neck with a mighty jerk that snapped her spine.

The body sagged in her hands and she let it drop, standing over it as it twitched for a handful of seconds while she scanned the clearing.

For a moment, their eyes met and the fur-painted woman smiled and raised her eyebrows, but then darted across the clearing to a spot where another woman was rising, shaking, from a body in the dirt in front of her.

All breath left Elia's body. What nightmare was this?

Bile rose in her throat and Elia whirled, thoughtless of the carnage behind her, looking to clear her mind of the gore and death happening around her. Instead, she found a circle of people cheering and screaming, barking and growling, like animals on the hunt. Their eyes passed over her with looks of contempt as she rushed to the tree nearby and leaned on it, throwing up the lasts of the alcohol and appetizers she'd had at the Patron's Ball.

As she coughed and spat, her entire body trembling, there was a great thud and a shriek nearby. Elia whipped around to find two women—one painted in feathers, the other in a strange set of lines and dots—wrestling in the dirt, teeth bared.

It was instinct to get away, to hide, but there were so many people… without thought, Elia grasped the lowest branch of the tree and pulled herself up, running her feet up the trunk like she had as a child. The ridiculous high heels she still wore slid on the bark, but she clung and the thick denim of her nicest jeans gave her traction on the branch as she hiked a leg over and pulled herself to sit against the trunk.

It wasn't a large tree, but there was a strange twisting in the branches, with clusters of upward-pointing leaves at the end of every branch and twig that gave some cover from the battle below her but allowed her to peer through and see much of what happened between the gaps.

"Is she allowed to do that?" the young voice she'd heard earlier whined.

Elia froze, but several people shushed the young one and no one came to tug her down, so Elia braced herself against the trunk of the tree and tried to catch her breath. Not that it worked. Her entire body trembled, humming with fear. She knew being up here only delayed what had to be an unavoidable end. Whoever these people were, they didn't hesitate to kill.

She peered between a gap in the leaves to see the fur-painted woman chase another across the circle, snarling, teeth bared, and launch herself on the other woman. They rolled and tumbled through the dirt together, and when the dust settled, the fur-painted woman was the one to rise, her face dark with the other woman's blood.

A strange noise erupted from Elia's throat.

Where was she?

How the hell had she gotten here?

And how long did she have before she died?

*****

RETH

The wolf-daughter, Lucine, was ruthless and committed. A machine. She'd been the first to take a kill which had the Lupines howling their pleasure and excitement. And she was making her way through the other opponents with efficient, deadly grace.

Lucan would be strutting for weeks.

Reth growled in his throat. He was distracted for a moment, watching her tear out the throat of the Avaline sacrifice—an unnecessary reminder of the merciless nature of the wolves. But he turned quickly, unable to stop himself looking for Elia, and in the same breath wishing he never had to see her here.

It was with deep grief he realized she was already down. Gone.

For a moment his memories flickered to a tiny, human girl, so kind and un-self-conscious. A little girl who had ignored his strange behavior, and instead simply shared his love for animals. Had made herself his friend. Defended him to her peers—and to her parents, who were wisely wary of the neighbor boy who demonstrated such strange behavior.

Thank the Light he'd never transformed in front of them. His control had been patchy at best back then.

Sadness settled into his bones as he realized that the only bright light in his childhood years in the human world had been extinguished. The only light his heart had ever recognized. He allowed himself one keen of mourning, knowing the gathered audience would assume he grieved all the sacrifices. But he resolved in that moment that he would make sure she had a proper burial. He knew the pure humans generally felt a body must be buried—or burned.

With stinging eyes he inhaled to scent her, intending to locate her body in the circle, so he could return later to bury her himself…but instead, his senses tingled with the smell of hot blood, still pumping, her unique scent still impossibly alive. 

But… where was she?

Turning his head left and right as if he were scanning the rite, he continued to scent until he'd identified her scent mixed with the disturbed bark of the tree on the northern end of the circle.

She'd hidden herself.

Reth blinked. His two natures argued about how he should feel: The Anima within him, the blood of his predator-ancestors, growled and shook itself. It had nothing but contempt for the prey behavior. But his humanity… it applauded her resourcefulness—that she sought an answer other than bloodlust.

Both perked their ears as his heart beat faster because she was still alive. Then he blinked and turned away from the tree before anyone else noticed his attention.

The Rite was almost finished. The clearing was already littered with bodies. Lucine was in the dirt, far to his left, straddling the Equine sacrifice, strangling the life out of her. The girl had stopped fighting, only one of her legs still kicking—weakly.

It wouldn't be long.

But with no other battles at play, he would be forced to watch Lucine slay Elia.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

He had always enjoyed the human curses. They were very… visceral. And no doubt he'd utter a few more before this night was done.

The wolves began howling and clapping as Lucine pushed her to feet, obviously exhausted, but smiling that wolf-grin that she knew made the herds shiver.

She turned towards him and bowed, then started forward.

Reth realized she—and the wolf packs, apparently—weren't aware of Elia, still hidden in the tree.

Lucine was so confident, so sure, she'd used only her eyes, not scenting for her enemies. It was a fatal mistake and one he prayed she'd correct before she reached him for the offering. He wouldn't be able to accept it and she would be shamed.

Unfortunately, she was too busy accepting the cheers of her people, howling for the moon as she stumbled towards him, her body spent, to realize her error.

So, when she reached the dirt just feet in front of him and swept a bow, he was forced to speak before she made her offerings of devotion.

"There is still one left, Lucine," he growled.

She blinked, but to her credit, she didn't argue. Just dropped to a crouch and began scenting the clearing behind her. It took her only a few more seconds than it had taken Reth himself to locate Elia. Such a pity she was a wolf—and would be shamed by this moment. She would make a formidable Alpha one day.

With Reth watching, yearning for this to end any way other than what it must do, Lucine tracked the scent straight to the tree. Without hesitating, she leaped and grabbed for Elia, who shrieked like a wounded rodent in the talons of an owl.

Reth was torn between contempt for her weakness and grief for the girl she'd been to him as she was dragged from the heavy branch.

He was about to close his eyes, not wishing to see the moment when Lucine tore the life from her—but one of Elia's feet kicked out as she attempted to stop herself from being pulled from the tree, and the wicked heel on it caught an overly confident Lucine right in the face.

The wolf-woman yowled like a cat, flinching and letting go with one hand.

For a moment Reth's heart rose—but only for a moment. because a second later, even as Lucine held her eye with one hand, Elia lost her grip on the tree and tumbled awkwardly to the ground on top of the wolf.

Reth braced himself for the bloodbath, forced his expression to an unfeeling mask, knowing even a tired Lucine would take pleasure in ending the Pure One.

But a murmur rose from the crowd on that end of the clearing, many of the Anima shifting uneasily. Reth's heart raced, but he forced himself to stillness as Elia stumbled to her feet, staring open-mouthed at Lucine on the ground—who wasn't moving.

Elia took a step back, then jerked to look left and right at the people surrounding the clearing, around as if someone else might attack her.

Reth scented Lucine, but her scent did not have the pale chill of death. She was still alive, but apparently unconscious. Yet, Elia continued to back away. Then she turned to look at him, her eyes and mouth wide.

"She is not yet dead," Reth growled. "Finish her."

Elia's entire body pulled from him. "I'm not killing her."

The clearing shook with the fierce reaction of the crowd—all the tribes in agreement on this point, at least. The Rite must be fulfilled.

Reth snarled and they quieted, but the wolves were pacing, all the herds stamped their feet, and the Avalines kept ruffling their cloaks.

Reth snorted the scent of her from his nose in disgust—the only counter to his rage was the awareness of how Lucine's father, Lucan, must be quivering with shame. His daughter was already humiliated by this loss—but to be declared too weak to be killed in good conscience—and by an untried human! Reth would have given his left testicle to hear Lucan's thoughts at that moment.

His enemy's discomfort aside, Reth growled his own anger. She would not force him to be the one to end this! He started toward her, the tribes chittering in response to the tension in him, their King lion on the prowl.

"She is a sacrifice," he snarled. "Just like you. Kill her."1

But for the first time on this horrific night, Elia showed a spark of the strong and vibrant child she had been. She straightened and turned to face him fully, locked eyes with him, clenching her hands to fists, and yelled back, "No!"

****

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