“Are you asking me to fight with you?” Mara asked, surprised.
Gora laughed. “Just a sparring match. Not for real. I promise not to injure you too much.”
Mara was feeling restless, so this would be a good time to stretch her body. “You are on.”
“I’m on what?” Gora asked.
“I’m in, I want to spar.”
“There’s a clear area in that field over there.”
Mara appreciated that Gora looked for a somewhat private area away from the camp. But in the end, the other players followed them over anyway to watch.
“How are we going to do this? With as little injury as possible since we have a challenge later tonight.” Mara asked.
Gora used her boot to draw a large circle. “We each take a place inside the circle. The point is to get your opponent to leavethe circle by any means necessary. Whoever gets to three points first is the winner.”
“What do you mean by any means necessary?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not to the death. If blood is drawn, the match is over.”
Mara narrowed her eyes at her sort-of friend. “I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”
Gora laughed. “This is going to be fun.”
“How do we start? Do we need a bell or something?”
“I’ve got this!” Blaine yelled from the side. “Ding! Ding!”
Mara and Gora face each other in the circle. The Bestial female was almost a foot taller and probably ten pounds more in muscle. But Mara was no slouch. She had taken self-defense classes in college, ran track, and prepared for months to qualify for the games.
Mara, the blond, blue-eyed human, looked almost fragile next to Gora, the towering Bestial female whose muscular frame radiated raw power. The match was simple: force your opponent out of the circle three times. No weapons. No tricks. Just skill, instinct, and endurance.
The first clash was brutal. Gora lunged with a roar, her momentum like a freight train. Mara sidestepped, but not fast enough—her boot slid past the edge. One point to Gora.
The second round was even faster. Gora feinted left, then swept Mara’s legs with a wide arc. Again, Mara stumbled out. Two points. The crowd murmured, sensing the match might end quickly.
But Mara wasn’t just fighting with muscles, she was fighting with knowledge.
She recalled her studies of Bestial physiology: powerful, yes, but prone to overexaggerated movements. Their strength often came at the cost of precision. And they hated being outmaneuvered.
In the third round, Mara baited Gora with a mock charge, then spun low, letting Gora’s momentum carry her too far. Gora skidded, one foot breaching the circle. One point for Mara.
Fourth round—Mara danced around Gora’s heavy strikes, letting her tire herself out. Then, with a sudden pivot and shoulder check, Mara sent Gora stumbling backward. Two points each.
The final round was tense. Gora growled, her breath steaming. Mara crouched, calm and calculating. When Gora charged, Mara dropped low, grabbed her wrist, and used Gora’s own momentum to twist and redirect her. Gora’s foot slammed into the ice—outside the circle.
Three points. Match over.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Mara, panting but smiling, extended a hand to Gora. The Bestial warrior grunted, then clasped it firmly. Respect earned.
“They know you belong here now,” Gora said.
“Is that why you asked me to spar?”
Gora looked over Mara’s shoulder. “Your male is waiting for you.”
Mara turned and found Vaelor striding toward her. He did not look pleased.
