Chapter 19: The Ring

The old woman named the ring herself.

It was a circle of trampled frost between the black pillar and the Council's shelf, forty paces across, with the packs standing at its edge.

"Open hands, no teeth, no weapons," she said. "It ends when one of you yields or cannot stand. Alpha Lysle, can you shift?"

"No."

"Danica Fontana, can you?"

"I can," I said. "I won't. He can't, so I'll stay on two feet."

A murmur went around the stones.

Ansel stood at the edge of the circle with his arms crossed and his jaw set so hard I could feel it through the thread.

He had asked me once, on the road down, whether I wanted him to take the fight for me.

I had said no, and he had said, "Good," and I knew what that cost him.

Carson gave his cast to June to hold, and she took it.

He did not look at her.

He pulled off his jacket and handed it to nobody and let it drop in the frost.

"Begin," the old woman said.

He came at me at once, with his left fist, wide and fast.

I stepped inside it and let it go past my ear.

He swung again, and I turned my shoulder and it slid off.

He had been trained, once, and the training was still in his feet, but the strength behind it was a boy's.

I could hear him breathing already.

"Fight me!" he said.

"I am."

"You're playing."

"I'm trying not to hurt you."

That did what nothing else had done.

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