"This fight shall be in the human form!" One of the chiefs announced before the bell rang again!
Zephyr and Jareth moved toward the center of the pit with their steps measured and deliberate.
They circled each other, their gazes locked, each one assessing the other's intent.
Zephyr could feel the raw energy in Jareth, a hunger that tasted like desperation. Zephyr, on the other hand, was a stone wall—impenetrable, unyielding.
He was grounded by the knowledge that this was not a fight for himself, but for the well-being of his pack. He was the pack's shield, and tonight, he would prove it.
Jareth made the first move.
He lunged forward with surprising speed, a blur of motion. Zephyr met the attack with an iron block, his forearms colliding with Jareth's, the sound echoing loudly in the tense air. Jareth recoiled, his eyes wide with a flash of frustration. He hadn't expected Zephyr to be so solid, so unmovable. This was not how he had hoped to face Zephyr.
