Chapter 21: The Ring

A challenge to the Crown could not be refused.

That was the law, and every wolf on the lawn knew it.

The oldest elder said so himself, in a tired voice, and then he called for the ring.

Wolves pulled back across the grass and made a wide circle around a patch of bare earth, with torches set at the four sides.

Elias took off his jacket and handed it to Junie.

"You don't have to do this," I said.

"I do."

"He'll fight dirty."

"I know." He touched my cheek with the back of two fingers. "I'll try to be annoying about it."

I almost laughed.

He stepped down into the ring in his shirtsleeves and rolled them to the elbow.

Across from him, Brant handed his father his jacket.

The bandage on his right hand was the last thing he kept.

The rules were old and simple.

No weapons.

No shifting past the claws and the teeth.

The fight ended when one of them yielded or could not stand.

The oldest elder struck his cane on the ground.

They went for each other.

Brant was fast, and he had been the best fighter in Redmoon his whole life.

He hit Elias twice in the ribs before Elias had finished turning, and the crowd groaned.

Elias took it and came back low, and his claws came out, black and curved, and tore a line across Brant's shoulder.

Blood.

Brant grinned through it.

They circled.

Elias was bigger and slower.

Brant kept dancing in and out, cutting and backing off, and a red line grew across Elias's forearm, then another on his cheek.

"He's tiring him," Junie whispered.

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