A Nytekrie Dreams: A story of love, mystery and something of a betrayal
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My first attempt at writing since coming to this ridiculous madness some of you might call college. While I'm not sure how good this can be, do ping me if you want updates. If you would like to see your pet or yourself in the story, shoot me a PM. :)

Do be warned: I've tried to make this age-appropriate. Someone tell me if I'm not doing well enough.

Some background: I spend a lot of time on the pet auction and breeding forums, and I've noticed a critical, alarming lack of certain species. Everyone is so fixated on those Aeridinis and Lighiras and Nephinis, some Puffadores and even Luporas, but others are not so lucky. One of these happens to be, to my great consternation, my favorite species. This is the story of the Nytekrie.

I have written this story based partly on my own life. This is not to say that any of these things happened. They didn't. Rather, the character of Rona, here:



draws from my own experiences. I may become emotional. Do ignore me if that happens.
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Experimental Part One
Once Upon a Midnight Fair

Would it be true to call a midnight fair? It is, after all, one of the coldest, chilling-est, most dangerous parts of the day. All its sunlit hour cousins laugh and call it names. "Midnight?" they jeer, "Who hides in the dark and can't ever be seen except by the light of the moon and the lines of the shadows?"

Of course, we can't be all too critical of midnight. After all, midnight is the patron hour of thieves of bandits, and her cloak is sanctuary for all. For the most part.

Least of all, Rona.

Rona, you see, was currently strung up in a crude rope trap that, though primitive, was quite effective in hanging her upside-down in a tree. She didn't like trees.

She had liked going out at night, when others couldn't see her drab brown coat and messily painted feathers. Who knows, maybe after tonight, they'll never see it again.

The blood was trickling into her head. She blinked and clacked her beak and sniffed a few times. She felt a sudden urge to cry. There was no one else around, so she did.

Then, off in the distance, she heard voices. They weren't Sylesties. Rona perked up and swiveled around, and through the forest gloom, she could see a line of bobbing lights. Perhaps they were elves from the Sanctuary, and they could get her out!

"Help me!" she screeched, "Help! Over here!"

The lights spun around confusedly, then began pounding towards her. Rona's heart was pounding. Voices shouted among the trees and boots crashed through the underbrush. Then, as the torches swung into view, Rona's heart sank.

They weren't elves. They were bandits. And they were grinning.


Their leader, a big, ugly, smelly fellow whose rusted cutlass was stained with blood, stepped up and gave Rona a toothy smile. He reached out and touched her cheek. Rona gasped and flinched away. The ugly fellow laughed.




"And what is your name, darling?" He cooed, as the others snickered behind him.

Rona sniffed. She really wanted to cry now. To show her defiance, and hide her tears, she abruptly turned away from him.

The ugly one snorted. "Oh, you don't need to tell me, girl, you're useless anyway." He grinned at Rona's expression, "Didn't anyone tell you? Only Fabled Sylesties are worth anything on the market. You, well, let's just say the world can do without you."

He turned to his subordinates and raised a hand. They unsheathed their weapons.

"Wait!" screamed Rona, "Wait! Wait, I can be useful!"

"No, you can't."

"Yes I can!" Rona searched her mind for anything, any redeeming quality she had, "I can, I can fight!"

Sir Uglious shook his head. "You are nothing compared to a Lighira. You wouldn't last two minutes in the ring."

"Then test me! I'll show you! If not, I'll get torn apart anyway, right? Won't that be entertaining?"

The other bandits murmured and nodded. "Been too long since we've had a good bloodbath," said one. Rona swallowed and pretended she didn't hear anything.

Mister Ugliano scowled and looked at his subordinates nodding and back at Rona, cowering. He took a deep breath.

"You're too much of a flight risk," he said.

"Then clip my wings! I'll fight without them!"

"You're dangerous. I don't need to lose more men," he said.

"I can barely move! How could I hurt you?"

"I'm not wasting food on you," he said.

"Then I'll do it tonight!"

Duke Uglinato of New Smelluglian sighed.

"Fine," he growled, "You go in the ring tonight. Just know that you're not coming back out until one of you is dead."

adsjfla jldsj ljsadlfkjsaldjf in which interesting things actually happen.

Anyway,
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Rona was blindfolded, bound, gagged and terrified. She had been slung hastily over one of the bandits' shoulders, a big, honking fellow who lifted her up like a sack of lightweight potatoes. They were marching through the forest now, and all she could hear were boots crunching and low whispers. The bandit's fingers were digging into her side and Rona tried not to think of all the disgusting things pressing into her skin. There was something wet on her beak and Rona prayed for it to be water.

Gradually, she became aware of the sounds of civilization from ahead. As they became closer, she became seized with the desperate hope that perhaps they had arrived at one of the small trading posts lining the road from Esior's Haven to the Sanctuary of Saerielle. It sounded like a town! Perhaps these were actually undercover guards!

There came a shout from the front and the group abruptly halted. Rona was heaved onto the ground with a thud, and she squawked in surprise. Rough hands grabbed her face and tore off the blindfold.

It was a bandit camp, bustling with activity, voices and suspicious-looking crates. Faeloras and Morkkos were lashed to carts and heaving against the strain while their drivers swung whips in the air. A rough-hewn path scraggled through the camp, pitted and rutted in some places and mired with mud in others. A Ny-vene, its mouth frothing and scars arcing all over its spined back, rattled the bars of its cage and roared with bloodlust. Its yellow eye focused on Rona and Rona instinctively jerked back.




Bandits swung in and out of tents, talking, laughing, comparing blades and stirring ubiquitous pots of soup over crackling fires.. A net of leaves and branches had been artfully strung overhead to keep from the prying eyes of flying patrol sylesties from the Sanctuary. Through its weave, Rona could see half of the moon and the night full of stars. She looked away.

Ugliyuck grinned. "Welcome to our humble home!" He motioned wildly to the camp and its inhabitants, "Don't get too comfortable just yet!" The other bandits snickered and Rona whimpered.

Ugliyuck (yes, that was what she would call him from now on), motioned to the camp guards, who nodded and lifted the heavy wooden barrier barricading the entrance to the camp. Ugliyuck's henchman lifted Rona up and held her under his arm, like so much poultry. The group marched inside and was greeted with raucous cheers and jeers. "It's chicken!" and "We're having meat tonight!" were among the cries that Rona could hear through her own sobbing.

In the center of the camp stood a massive, impressively sewn tent that rivaled the town hall of Esior's Haven. Two banners painted with the head of a Lighira stood framing the entrance. A bonfire blazed in front, framed with the skulls of sylesties. Rona felt guilty that she was glad there were no Nytekrie skulls among them. Ugliyuck and his group stepped forward, and then fell on their knees. The camp fell silent.

After a moment, a man, Rona presumed he was the leader, stepped out from the shadows of the tent. He was tall -- taller than any man Rona had ever seen -- and his thick black hair had been neatly combed back. One of his hands touched the blade at his side warily, while the other stroked his stubbled chin. He regarded the group with a clear air of contempt.




Then he looked down and saw Rona. He frowned.

"What is this?" he asked.

"This...is a Nytekrie, sir," Ugliyuck replied, his eyes darting from Rona to the leader.

"I can see that, idiot! What is this useless bird doing here?"

The bandits in the camp -- who were carefully observing everything -- chortled in the background and Rona could see Ugliyuck becoming visibly nervous.

"Er...she wishes to fight in the ring, sir," said Ugliyuck.

The leader stepped down from the entrance and brought his face uncomfortably close to Rona's. He grinned and his teeth were perfect. "Hello little chicken," he mocked, "Do you know who I am?"

Rona's beak was bound. All she could do was shake her head.

"You may call me 'Chief' for...however long you last tonight."

The bandits behind them cheered and whooped.

Chief raised his arms. "Then, the fights begin early tonight! And the star of our show: the chicken!"

The bandits roared in approval, and Rona tucked her head into her chest.

The "ring" was a large pit carved into the side of a hill. One side was covered by the resulting overhang and the other was open to the night sky. All the onlookers huddled together under the overhang.

The ring itself, lined with feathers, furs and various scraps of bone, was covered with a net of ropes tied to a dome-like metal frame. The ceiling was low -- not more than 10 feet -- likely because the bloodiest battles happened on the ground. There was little entertainment in seeing a cat chasing a bird and never catching it.

Rona's pinion feathers had been cut. She sat tied to a post outside the ring as, as Chief had put it, she was to see the competition first.

The crowd was clamoring among themselves, placing bets for the upcoming fights. She heard "chicken" mentioned several times, followed by words like "thirty seconds" "a minute" and "double my bet". Finally, after a good twenty minutes of such torture, Chief stood to announce the first match-up.

"My friends," he roared over the sound of the quieting crowd, "My friends, I know where you've been placing all your bets, but there are good fighters out here tonight, and we need to show them some respect!"

The bandits cheered.

"Tonight, friends, tonight," Chief wasn't standing up very straight, "tonight...our first match of the night. In that corner...of the circle...we have the Speed Demon, the Crimson Lupora!"

A Lupora, which had been barking madly and slamming itself against the bars of its cage, was finally let into the ring. The gate was shut behind it hurriedly as the Crimson Lupora leaped to the center of ring and howled at the moon. Its metal armor gleamed. The onlookers whistled and clapped and the Lupora smiled self-assuredly.



Chief smiled and waved a bottle. "And in the other corner!" he roared, "Of the...of the circle...is the Winter Hunter, the Ice Griffi!"

An ice-cold blue Griffi, majestically sitting in its cage, walks out regally into the ring as if it were fancy social dinner instead of a death match. The Ice Griffi eyed the Lupora with indifference, its hooves tapping the ground impatiently. The Lupora crouched and growled.




"You two!" said Chief, gesturing at the ring, "Neither of you leaves until one of you can't stand! Winner gets double food rations and fifteen minutes in the yard! Now get to it!"

A bell clanged. The Lupora and the Griffi flew at each other.

The next few moments were a dizzying blur for Rona. She tucked her head under a wing and cried silently, while in the background, the night filled with shrieks and screams and the uproar from the crowd. At one point she smelled iron. Rona curled herself tighter.

The fight lasted no more than fifteen minutes. Then, there was a shrill cry, and a loud thud. The crowd went wild. Rona peaked out from under her wing. The Lupora lay breathing heavily on the ground, its side raked with blood. The Griffi preened itself with a red beak, and haughtily examined its red claws. The bandits were talking excitedly among themselves and exchanging bet slips. The cashier paid out gold, and even some diamond, to willing hands, while others sat and cursed.

Rona shook. She looked down at her breast, with its limp brown feathers, and horrible things came to mind. She opened her beak but nothing would come out.

Rona fainted.

Rona had her first dream.

There was a human, a male, covered in a shining silver armor. His eyes flashed as he swung his sword in the air and let forth a battle cry. Behind him, men and women garbed in armor that was not quite as impressive roared in response. Something red streaked across the sky.

Rona turned and saw a dark sea rising over the hill in the distance. As it neared, she could see they were whooping and hollering bandits, swarming down the trampled grass like ants. Some were on blood-frenzied faeloras that screeched as they foamed at their mouths. Two or three Ny'venes swooped in the sky, barely held in check by nervous riders.

The two clashed in a brilliant clanging of steel. The two groups -- one brilliantly clad in silver but alarmingly small, and the other like a black storm rushing to meet them -- came together like waves meeting at sea. Alarmed, Rona watched as the silver knights quickly became engulfed in the mass of bandits, and as, one by one, they disappeared...

Rona was rudely awakened by a direct application of ice water to her face. She let out a startled screech and swiped out with a claw.

Ugliyuck jumped back and laughed, tossing a pail to the side. "Good!" he said, smiling eagerly, "You're rearing up already. You're next, birdie."

Rona gasped and sat up. The arena was clamoring with voices as bandits discussed Rona's impending slaughter with bloodlust in their eyes. Some saw that she was awake and stood up, cheering and clapping. One of them called out, "Make it a good one, chicken!"

Rona staggered to her feet and flapped her wings. She sadly preened the jagged edges where her pinions had been shorn off.

Ugliyuck yanked at the rope around Rona's neck. Rona jerked forward, and then let herself be led into the arena. There was still blood soaking into the sandy ground and tufts of fur had been hastily swept off to the side. She could taste the sharp iron smell and sneezed when she breathed in the down that still floated in the air.

Chief stood up and hushed the crowd with an unsteady wave.

"Well, my friends, I hope you've placed your bets!" he hollered. The bandits clapped and hooted in approval.

Chief took another swig. "Now, the contender for our final match tonight..."

He paused too long for effect.

"Robbed from her home and made into a proper fighting beast..."

Another pause. Someone coughed.

"Our very own Starstrike, the Starry Night Lighira!"

The applause was deafening. Rona watched in horror as a beautiful dark blue Lighira, snarling and struggling was dragged into the arena. Her arching back had been broken and battered and along with the glowing golden stripes that danced across her flank were clear whip wounds, some of them still fresh. One of her curving cyan horns was covered in scars and the other had been broken off. Starstrike yowled and grabbed at her lead and the bandits yelped and ran out of the arena. The Lighira tenderly licked at her wounds, then turned to face Rona.




Their eyes met. Rona stared into those wild, golden pupils and knew that this magnificent sylesti had been reduced to nothing.

Starstrike roared. The bandits cheered. Rona's heart sunk.

Starstrike began pacing around the arena, her eyes watching Rona's every move. Rona kept her distance warily and backed away. "Hello?" she whispered desperately, "Hello, my name is Rona. I don't want to fight you. Please. Please."

Starstrike's mouth formed into a lopsided grin. Rona's foot hit the wall. She worked her beak, trying to talk.

"I'm Rona. Starstrike, can you hear me? We don't need to fight. We can both walk out of here. You don't need to do this." Rona was breathing heavily. Starstrike put a paw forward.

"Please."

Starstrike lunged. Rona squawked and flapped awkwardly to the side as the bandits began whooping. Starstrike hit the wall, snarled and leaped again, her claws gleaming in the moonlight. Rona jumped up as far as she could, flapping her wings. Her claw hooked onto the metal dome and she curled upside down against the ropes, all four claws clinging to the frame.

Starstrike paced below, looking confused. The bandits were hollering for her to jump, but in her madness, she could understand neither Rona nor her slavers.

Rona allowed herself a small smile. "I'm a Nytekrie," she said giddily. "I bet you've fought Lighiras and Griffis and even Luporas, but you've never fought a Nytekrie. I'm Rona and I'm a Nytekrie."

Starstrike seemed to have finally figured out to jump. Rona, swelling with a sudden, desperate bravado, waited for it.

Starstrike backed up. She lowered herself to the ground and growled. The bandits began talking excitedly among themselves. Rona growled back, boldly daring her opponent.

The Lighira's paws pounded on the ground and she soared, her claws outstretched for Rona's back. Rona dropped, one back foot still clinging to the metal frame, and swooped under Starstrike, pushing forward with the hard edges of wings with her claws balled into fists. It was a risky maneuver. Were Rona to drop just a few seconds too late, Starstrike would have swiped open her belly.

It worked. Rona's wings collided with Starstrike's chest midair. The Lighira's claws clipped a few feathers off of the down on Rona's belly. The Lighira was heavy, much larger and heavier than Rona, but the force was enough. Starstrike had leapt nearly straight up to reach Rona and all it took was a small push to tip her off balance. Starstrike yelped and fell backwards, ten feet down.

The arena fell silent.

There was a sickening crunch. Starstrike shrieked as she clawed at the air and flailed on the ground. Her beautiful striped tail whipped frantically and foam churned in her mouth. Rona's throat clenched as blood spurted out of the Lighira's throat, and then bubbled into a thick pool.

Starstrike struggled for life for nearly a minute. Rona dropped back down to the ground, choking, tears slipping out from the corners of her eyes. She approached the dying Lighira, shaking.

For the last time, their eyes met. The wild flame had dulled. Starstrike raised one paw to Rona and croaked.

"Help me."

Then, there was a tortured gurgle, a final spasm, and the beautiful sylesti was gone.

The arena burst into frenzy. Bandits shouted and shook the cashier, demanding an explanation. Chief hollered above all of them, waving his bottle and spilling on everyone's heads. The cashier himself vehemently shook his head, even as beads of sweat gathered on his shiny, bald, forehead.

Rona screamed. She screamed at the moon, the stars, the bandits, but most of all, herself. Starstrike, a beautiful, magnificent sylesti, had been torn from her proper place in the world and sent to die in a pit. Rona, drab, ugly and brown, still lived. Where was the justice in this world that a queen was murdered so a serf could live? What universe could be so cruel to leave a lifeless corpse where a Starry Night Lighira should have been basking in the light of the moon?

Rona wished she were dead. At that moment, she wished more than anything that it was her, broken, beaten and bleeding on the ground. Rona of the forest, Rona the ugly, deserved no more place in the world than the faded bones and feathers that littered the sand around her.

Finally, Chief hurled his bottle against the wall. It shattered in a sharp spray of glass.

"Silence!" he roared.

The bandits quieted. They looked at each other, then at Chief.

Chief wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now," he said, turning to the cashier, "how much money did I make off of these grassheads tonight?"

The cashier licked his lips nervously. "Er," he said, his eyes darting between the men and Chief, "well, nothing."

"What?" Chief grabbed the small man and slammed him against the wall. The bandits began whispering excitedly among themselves.

"Well, sir," the cashier babbled, "sir, if you would just- er, you see, sir, someone bet a thousand to one that the bird would win. Er, sir."

"And who was that grasshead?"

"Well, sir, him." The cashier pointed. All heads turned to look.

It was at this time that Rona saw Ugliyuck sitting calmly off to the side, watching the scene with mild amusement. "I believe you owe me 450 diamonds." said Ugliyuck, smirking. "Sir."

Chief's eye twitched. His hand twitched. His mouth twitched. He dropped the moaning cashier and strode over to Ugliyuck and stuck his face next to Ugliyuck's.

"You bet on the bird?" Chief whispered hoarsely.

Ugliyuck didn't flinch. "She's my bird, isn't she? Sir?"

Chief's hand wandered to the sword by his side. Ugliyuck clutched the hilt of his rusted blade.

Finally Chief stood. He turned to the cashier. "Pay him what's due!" he shouted.

"Sir?"

"You heard the man, it was his bird. And I won't be owing anything to any -- any! -- of these grassheads. Now pay him!"

"Y-yes, sir, uh, right away, sir!"

Immediately, the bandits began clamoring and complaining as Chief stalked away bellowing, "Get her in a cage!" and waving angrily at Rona. Rona blinked, still shocked at what had happened. Then, she turned and saw Ugliyuck staring at her as the nervous cashier counted out diamond after diamond into his outstretched hand.

Ah, this is bad. I'm writing Sylestia fanfiction instead of my midterm essay.

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The cage was a cold, cramped, dark little space made of rugged metal and set outside in the night air. There weren't even any leaves or branches around that Rona could make a half-decent nest out of, much less cover herself with.

It wasn't like she could have fallen asleep anyway. The Crimson Lupora from the fight earlier lay on his side, bleeding but alive, whimpering to no one. Another lupora, presumably from a fight that occurred while Rona was out, whine and scratched at his nose, which was bleeding profusely. The Ny'vene from earlier paced restlessly in its cage, periodically snorting and rattling the bars. Morkkos had been herded into a small pen with tall, sturdy fences, and growled and clawed at each other. From other areas of the camp Rona could hear the shrill cries of Griffi, the sharp barks of Luporas, and a low growl from a sad Lighira. Only the Faeloras, tied on short leashes to single post, were completely silent.




Rona thought back to the fight that night. Her front claws still ached from smashing into Starstrike's ribs. It wasn't the first time she'd killed something. Nytekries, after all, are night predators, and Rona's diet had consisted largely of small nocturnal birds and rodents, along with an occasional frog.

This was different, very, very different. There is a natural hierarchy in Sylestia, and Nightkries don't rank very highly on it. To have killed a Lighira, a Fabled species respected and revered everywhere on the continent, could merit very serious punishment in some sylesti communities. It was lucky for Rona that Nightkries are solitary.

Besides, she thought, she was only protecting herself. Thinking back on it now, her grief seemed foolish, even shallow. Who was to say that Lighiras deserved to live over even the little Nytekrie? Besides, to the madness that Starstrike had been driven to, it might have been a mercy that she was put out of her misery.

Rona suddenly realized that she was exhausted, more exhausted than she had ever been. It had been a tiring day. Perhaps now would be a good time to go to sleep.

Who was that man?

Rona saw him again, his silver armor clanking as he strode down a bright red carpet, one hand looped around the hilt of the sword at his side. Suddenly, the man abruptly stopped and fell to his knees, clenching a fist to his chest and bowing his head.

"My liege," he said, his voice deep and firm.

The shadow of a figure in long robes swept over him. Rona could hear another voice, but it was murmured and blurred.

The man nodded. "I understand, my liege," he said, "Immediately."

The figure murmured again and spread its arms. The knight gasped.

Smiling grimly, he stood, bowed deeply once more, and intoned, "It will be done."

"Up and at 'em, chicken!"

Rona screamed as she woke and swiped out with a claw. It banged against the metal bars, and Rona hissed with pain as she quickly retracted it.

Ugliyuck laughed. "My prizewinner lives!" He crowed happily. Behind him, the camp buzzed with activity as bandits chatted, polished their weapons, and stirred soup in their pots. Some sylestis were already at work, hauling heavy carts of boxes and chests while their drivers lashed at them with whips. A group of bandits near the center of the camp were trying to bring the Ny'vene under control, jumping back as it snapped at them with its powerful jaws. Off to the side, another group stood and glared at Ugliyuck. One of them fingered a lone diamond.

Ugliyuck saw Rona looking at his entourage curiously and he shook his head.

"Oh, they won't kill me yet," he said with smug satisfaction, "If there's anyone in this hellhole who knows how to hide something, it's me. They'll follow me first. Not that they'll ever find it."

He laughed again and smacked the bars with an open palm. Rona glowered at him.

"I hate you," she said.

"Good, good. Just think of me when you fight tonight."

"What?" Rona squawked in alarm, "Again?"

"Oh, yes." Ugliyuck stroked his mangy chin. "Yesterday was a fluke. Tonight, you prove yourself."

Seeing the look on Rona's face, he added, "Oh, and there'll be no more killing. If we lost half our animals every night, we'd be out within the week. Do try to contain yourself."

He smiled at Rona's scowl.

"But, on to more important things!" he said, waving his hand, "We must feed you!"

With that, he brought up a crude, wooden bowl. In it were several slices of fine-cut meat and a small pool of blood at the bottom. They smelled delicious and fresh but they didn't smell like anything Rona had ever eaten before.

"What is it?" she asked, eying the bowl suspiciously.

"Guess."

Rona shook her head. "I'm not eating that," she declared, and turned away.

"Well then, I'll just leave this for you."

Rona listened as his footsteps -- and those of his quickly-growing entourage -- crunched away.

Rona lay down in her cage and put her head on her paws.

At that moment, a soft voice called to her. "You should eat. You must stay strong and survive."

Rona whirled around to face the voice. There, she saw one of the Faelora, smiling down at her. His antlers had been hacked off and burned at the base. His legs shook slightly as he pawed at the ground and pulled futilely against his heavy harness. The heavy stone mill to which he was attached creaked as he moved. The Faelora's driver and another bandit stood arguing heatedly off to the side.

"Eat," repeated the Faelora, "You'll be use to no one if you're dead."

Rona sniffed at the meat. "How do I know it didn't come from another sylesti?" she asked.

The Faelora lowered his head and sighed. "It probably did," he said solemnly.

Rona jerked back and looked from the Faelora to the bowl, and then back again. The Faelora smiled sadly at her horrified expression.

"We are all made worse here," he said quietly, "We do what we can to live. It is all we can do."

Suddenly, a whip flashed through the air. It lashed against the Faelora's back, and he screeched as a thick red mark burned into his skin. His driver pounded over to him and jerked his head down.

"What do you think you're doing, you useless beast?" hollered the driver, "Get back to work!" The Faelora flinched and bowed its head.

The driver raised the whip again. The Faelora abruptly turned and leapt back towards the mill, straining at his harness. He gave Rona one last look before turning away.

Rona watched him work, while his driver screamed and beat him. She turned back to the bowl. Her stomach growled.

When she was finished lapping up the last drop, she picked up the bowl and threw it out as far as she could. It bounced and rattled to a stop on the road, where a passing wheel crushed it in half. She lay down again, but this time she had run out of tears.

Rona spent most of the day in her cage.

Occasionally, a bandit would come up and make faces, poking her through the bars. "This chicken took out Starstrike?" they would mutter incredulously.

Some of the other Faelora looked at her with pity. One of the Morkkos kindheartedly offered her a piece of its meal, a sad few strips of suspicious, dried meat. Rona ate them out of politeness, although the salt made her gag.

That night, as the lights at the pit flared to life and bandits began strolling to their seats, Ugliyuck came to fetch Rona from her cage. He picked up the chain lead tied around her neck and gave it a good yank.

"Behave," he warned, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

He had to drag her all the way to the ring with the edge of his blade hovering above her neck. Her arms were sore and stung from last night when she had to shove a quarter-ton Lighira off balance.

The bandits there were already chatting excitedly for the upcoming fights. They joked and laughed and slapped the cashier a little too hard while the nervous little man smiled and wrung his hands.

Then, they all saw Rona. The ring fell silent.

Rona could see Ugliyuck tense, his grip tightening around his blade. Chief strolled over nonchalantly and gave them a wide grin.

"Is your bird ready to perform?" Chief lazily examined his nails. Ugliyuck's eyes narrowed.

"Of course," he replied.

Chief eyed Rona, then shook his head.

"Alright," said Chief, turning back to the ring with a wave, "I hope nothing too terrible happens tonight. We wouldn't want you to get hurt, of course." Some of the bandits snickered. Others crossed their arms and glared at the pair.

Ugliyuck took a deep breath. "Oh, she won't disappoint," he said boldly, "You can bet on that."

Rona could see beads of sweat dripping down the chain from his hand.

Chief ignored him, striding forward to meet the eager bandits. "Alright, grassheads," he hollered, as the bandits began chatting excitedly, "Place your bets! Our first fight tonight with feature our new star, the chicken!"

The bandits roared and cheered and Ugliyuck closed his eyes. Rona whimpered. "I'm going to die," she whispered to herself, "I'm going to die." Ugliyuck kicked her in the ribs and Rona yelped.

Chief waved his arms. "Alright, alright!" he yelled, "Sit down. Sit- what do you not understand about that? Get down! I'm speaking!"

The offending bandit quickly took his seat.

"Alright, now!" Chief said authoritatively, "Let's get the chicken in the ring!"

Ugliyuck yanked her forward as the pit filled with jeers and calls. Someone whistled and shouted, "Don't go too hard on me, baby!"

In the ring, Ugliyuck bent down to unfasten the chain as Rona looked at him with desperate eyes. Ugliyuck stared back. "They always land on their feet," he said, then stood to leave.

What?

"And the challengers, the two mates, the plains hunters!"