The boys’ eyes are burning up with rage, ready to tear me apart like a wolf does a deer, not for its survival but simply to revel in the pain the seeping twitching mass beneath you must feel. It’s the most fighting spirit I have seen in him since he’s arrived. The masses will love it.

Kara lunges towards me, transforming his legs for a sudden boost of speed. I jump to the side, roll over my shoulder and grab two knifes for the weapon stand now in reach. The sound of the boy crashing into a wall echoes thru the chambre. As I turn the boy has already steadied himself. I run towards him, he falls back, transforming into a crow. Now. I hurl my knife, giving it a twist so it starts to turn. Kara dives to the side. Too slow. It crashes into his right wind, sending him into a tailspin. The shrieking bundle of feathers spirals down, all orientation and special awareness gone. My hand shoots forward, gripping his head form behind, bringing him down, pinning him against the ground with the second knife before he has time to react.

“Your dead”, I say.

He glares at me and shrinks. My body reacts before I do, motions trained and executed to the point of muscle memory. I press down and cut. If the knife had been sharp, if it hadn’t been a training weapon, the boy would now be gurgling, chocking on his own blood, but as it is, nothing but a bruised line will remain. He’s gone mad. What did you expect? Karas now shrunken form escapes form under the knife, changing back to a human, just for him to stagger back further, clutching his throat, gasping for air. When the boy looks up, fear has crept into his hate filled, furry contorted face. But he does not stop. Instead he transforms, skin splitting, pelt growing, face deforming until the small slender boy has almost been replaced by a hulking beast. I reach him before the transformation is complete. His head snaps at me, startled, claws swiping at my direction. I doge under them, to the side where the boys attack has left his still half transformed flank wide open. I throw my transformed weight against it, sending him stumbling. He tries to complete his transformation, hoping to stop his fall. Concentration momentarily divided, my foot crashes into him. The moment his body hits the cold floor, it begins to morph. But I’m faster. In a second I’m above him, knife pressed against the boy: “Are you done?”

He transforms back into a human, fingers searching for the first dagger lying somewhere next to us. I kick out of reach. At that moment his hand slams against my back, clawing at the wounds, reopening them. The pain comes crashing down on me like a wave, hot and burning, taking away my breath, leaving my vision blurry and mind hazed. Somewhere far off I can feel Kara squeezing out from under the knife. Kill him. This time I manage to not cut.

I get up, press down the pain. Even if it’s not a real fight, staying like this is dangerous. Across form me the boy is panting. Eyes locked he walks over and picks up a knife. I give him the curtesy. Both of us are waiting for the other person to make a mistake. He falterers first, throwing what he just picked up and charging towards me. His eyes are locked on the spot just next to me. Too obvious. We’ll have to fix that. I narrow in on the blade, wait until it’s just within reach and push it to the side with my arm. The boy wisps past me, claws tearing into the place where I would have dodged to. Instead, I turn and slam my hand on the back of his neck. He crumbles, hands and knees hitting the floor.

“Ready to give up?”

“Fuck you!”

My heel strikes him on the middle of his forehead. He’s flung back, impacting hard. A small trickle of blood has formed where his skin split. He tries to stand up, staggers, then I’m on top of him, knife pressed against his throat once more: “Your dead.”

He flings a punch, but I catch his hand.

“Don’t teat me like a child”, he screams.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Then prove to me you aren’t one”, I say.

Kara leans forward, trying to slam his head into mine. I draw back. Fine. I strike him on the side of his neck. Finally, he goes limp.

I wipe away the blood, prop him up. He looks much younger like this, and smaller. The bruise on his forehead will be purple for a while. The one on his chest too. On his throat, the line has already begun to darken.

I sit down next to him and wait. It takes a bit for the boy to come to, glancing around in a panic before his eyes land on me and he settles down: “My head hurts”.

“I’ll go get a cold towel.”

“Fuck that towel! Are you even a bit sorry?”

“What for?”

“Everything!”

“I don’t know.”

His face contorts in anger and his body tenses. Mine does as well. But then, instead of attacking, he simply sighs and leans back: “I want you to stop holding back.”

“No”

“You haven’t properly transformed a single time during our fight. How am I supposed to survive in the arena if I don’t learn how to fight against that”

“You won’t learn anything if I nock you unconscious as soon as the fight starts. I will stat transforming once you defeat me when I am not”

“I was trying, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Ready for another round?”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a horrible job.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Then what exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

“Teach you how to fight.”

“And how’s that going?”

“You’re improving.”

“Don’t think I’ve just forgiven you for what happened yesterday.”

“Forgive me or do not, it is not my choice to make.”

“You’re horrible. Both of you”

I don’t answer.

“Look. It’s not like I don’t understand why you did it. But I can’t just unsee it. Each time I think of Aary all I can see is Enya snapping her neck… and you just watching”.

“I’m sorry. It must have been hard to watch.”

“Yes. Yes it was! But you know, at least with you, I expected as much. At least you didn’t pretend. But with Enya … How can he just accept it like this? After all the memories they shared?”

“The highest ranked fighters get the most trainees.”

“Good for them. But what does that have to with Enya killing his?”

“Listen”, I take a deep breath, “the highest ranked fighters get the most trainees. The first one I got was a girl, almost my age. I was barely done being a trainee myself. She was kind. And shy. And then she died. I can’t even remember her name. And then new ones came, and new ones died. In the beginning I tried, I really did, to get to know them, to help and to comfort. But each time I would look at them all I saw was a corpse. So I stopped: only did what was required of me, never even asked their names. In the end, I got Niilan to stop giving me new ones. Enya can’t do that. All the ones I do not train, he gets instead. None of us chose to be the person to bring the lamb to the slaughterhouse. I know it does not feel like it, but he really did try to give her a good last few month”

“I’m not sure if I can look at it that way.”

“That is okay. I just wanted you to know.”

“Can I have that towel now. Please”