Chapter 7: The Barn

The barn behind the lodge had a dirt floor, a stack of hay bales, and a patch of old wrestling mats nobody had thrown out.

"Six a.m.," said Nolan at my door that morning, without looking at me.

"The challenge is a fight, and you've never seen one."

"I've seen plenty," I said.

"You've seen the ones where the loser goes home.

"This is the circle."

We stood in the middle of the mats with the morning light coming in the high window.

He had changed into a gray t-shirt and old work pants.

He looked like he had not slept.

"Rules," he said.

"First blood or a yield.

"No teeth in human form, and no claws below the belt.

"The challenger picks his fight, and you may pick a second to stand in his place if you can't."

"I don't have a second."

"You have a pack that watches."

"That is not a second.

"That's an audience."

"Fine," said Nolan.

"Then you have me, and I'm not allowed to fight for you."

"Wonderful," I said.

"I have you for moral support."

"I am extremely bad at moral support," he said.

"I'd try to hand you a sandwich."

I laughed, a real one this time, and it caught him off guard.

He stared at me for half a second.

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