To read from the beginning start here.
And here I was again, waiting in the dark. Ranckor held me by a chain attached to the collar around my neck. Icknor had some beast maneuvered over the platform ready to drop into the pit.
You waited below. Our eyes had locked hours ago, with a knowing glance of what was to come. You would fight. Win or lose, my fate would continue. I'd be passed on to the victor. Despite your incessant babbling over the past days, I needed you to be the one rising out of that godforsaken pit.
Please, my gentle beast, whoever you are, rise for me. I will let you see me and take your prize. A prize you've already sampled, the prize of scent, something Ranckor and Icknor are unaware you already possess. They do not know your species as well as they do mine.
Perhaps this is something we can use to our advantage? Can we work together, in this dark, dank prison? Do we dare to hope? Wait. Am I thinking of escape?
The wood creaks with the lumbering weight of your opponent. All I can sense in the Deep Dark is his massive size. But all the males they bring are huge. Each one will challenge you, wound you, and every fight in the pit will weaken you. This is how your predecessor fell. He was the strongest…at first.
Ranckor yanks on the chain and the one before me falls with a surprised yell. The thud moments later tells me he's reached bottom. And now we all wait. What I hate most is the stealth of your movements. I never hear you approaching. Even after ten days in our cell, the lightness of your feet astounds me. So as I lean forward straining to hear, I know I will hear nothing to tell me what I want most to know. I want to know how you fare.
Ranckor's and Icknor's tongues flick wildly in the air, sweeping up the pheromones of battle. They will know when the killing blow is dealt.
Me? I will know nothing, so I hold on to hope. I wonder what they think about this.