Pride to Pack Read online

  ***

  The Pride is assembled in the arena, which is just an open field surrounded by the forests of the pride land. I call it a field but there is nothing there. It’s just packed dirt. It’s seen many duels over the years; the red dirt that the Northern Territory is known for is almost black from all the blood spilt on it.

  The lions are circled around the outside of the arena.

  Jerome is already waiting in the centre for me.

  Humans aren’t allowed, it’s too dangerous if the fight falls towards the spectators. Aunt Lily and my cousin Benji are both human so I only have Uncle Jack, who is one of the lions, there to support me.

  The crowd parts to let me in.

  Uncle Jack gives me one last pat on the shoulder as he stops to stand with the crowd. “You can do this, Bel. Remember your strengths. Forget everything else.”

  Taking a deep breath I face my opponent.

  Jerome has a good foot on me in human form He easily outweighs me. He’s smirking at me like he knows he has this fight in the bag.

  That’s it, Jerome, you keep thinking like that. Let the overconfidence take you that step closer to the body bag.

  Grigori Dorfman, the current Leader of the Pride, steps up to stand between us. “Jerome, you have challenged Rosabel to a duel. Does your challenge still stand?”

  Jerome nods. “Yes.”

  “Very well. Rosabel, since you are the challenged party, you have the choice of whether you want to fight in human or animal form.”

  “Human,” I answer immediately. When fighting in animal form, you only need a tooth or claw to connect in the wrong place and you’re dead. Fighting as a human may take longer and be harder, but you can control your opponent more. Fighting in animal form isn’t a viable option.

  Grigori’s loud voice booms around the arena. “You both must remain in human form at all times. If either of you shift, or even partially shift, your opponent will be declared winner and you will be immediately put to death. This duel is to the death. Do you both understand the rules?”

  “Yes,” we answer together.

  Grigori throws his arms wide and bows his head. “May the best animal win,”

  Jerome and I start to circle each other, weighing each other up. Neither of us willing to make the first move.

  “Come on Jerome, she’s only a little girl,” a male voice shouts.

  Jerome turns chasing the voice; I take the opportunity to strike him in the side of the head with a round house kick. He hits the floor and shakes his head. I move straight in with a kick to his jaw. He seems to anticipate it making a grab for my foot; he was a second too late and only manages to knock my foot away.

  I step back and start to circle again as Jerome stands up.

  He jabs his fist at my ribs and connects causing a crack that I have no doubt means something is broken. He follows with a second jab to the same area.

  Lapping up the attention as the audience cheers, he smirks. During his distraction I grab his outstretched arm, pulling it against the bend in his elbow. It cracks louder than my ribs, and I see some of the spectators flinch at the sound. I can see the shift cross his face, but he fights it off. Pain can be a trigger to the shift, just like it’s a trigger for nausea in humans. He did well to fight it off that quick.

  The fight goes on for a long time, at least twenty minutes, which believe me, when you are fighting to the death is a long time. Both of us have been throwing punches and striking with kicks and neither of us is getting the upper hand.

  Uncle Jack trains me for at least four hours every day. I have the endurance to handle this fight but, Jerome is getting tired. I can see it and so can the Pride.

  “Come on, Jerome. End her,” someone shouts.

  He tries to execute a roundhouse kick to my face in retaliation to those comments. Fortunately for me he’s sluggish. I let the momentum in his poorly executed kick take him to the floor before I pounce on his chest and grab his head between my hands.

  I snap his neck.

  The audience is outraged. Not only have I won, I’m still breathing. A wolf. A female wolf just beat one of their strongest male lions in a duel to the death.

  Grigori walks into the arena and states the obvious by announcing me - the only one still standing and breathing breaths that feel like a hot brand is being jabbed into my side, the winner.

  The crowd just gets louder. He tries to calm them down but it’s no use. He nods to Uncle Jack, signalling him to come and take me home so he can try to get a hold on the pride without my distracting presence.

  I only manage to hobble a couple of steps before Jerome’s brother, Daniel, pushes his way through the crowd.

  He gives me a murderous glare as the crowd falls silent. “I challenge the wolf.” He steps into the arena and removes his shirt, preparing to fight.

  No way can I survive another duel so soon.

  I shake free of Uncle Jack’s vice like grip and settle my feet to show I’m not going to run.

  “I accept,” I reply officially, as required.

  Uncle Jack is red in the face, holding his rage back as he rants at Grigori.

  Jared Dorfman, Grigori’s oldest son and the next in line to be Pride Leader, steps in front of me. I didn’t see where he came from, probably due more to the fact that my eyes are swelling shut rather than his stealthy approach. He gently holds my face between his hands, assessing the damage.

  I suck in a breath at the concern I see in his golden eyes. None of the pride have ever been concerned about me. I start to think I have read him wrong and he’s more concerned about the fact that I’m still breathing, that is, until he speaks.

  “It’s okay, Rosabel. They can’t make you duel again so soon. It’s Pride law. They have to give you at least three days to heal.”

  My stomach plummets. As good as a three day reprieve sounds, it’s nowhere near enough time to heal and be fit enough to win another duel. They are just going to prolong my suffering and death.