My arrival in the pit went unnoticed.

The audience was talking among themselves, their attention and delight still held by the previous battle.

Sand crunched under my feet. Inside, my blood was hot, and a rising thrill chased its way through my body as I gazed at the blur of onlookers that surrounded me.

I'll give you a fight unlike any other.

I wasn't sure my thoughts were my own.

Myranda took her place at the edge of the pit, and leaned forward to catch my attention with a wave. When my eyes found her she slipped two fingers into her mouth and blew a shrill whistle.

At least there was one in the audience who would cheer for me. 

A skeletal man entered the pit, wearing a bright vest under a crimson coat and a long hat that resembled a chimney. When he held his hands in the air the room fell silent.

"Audience!" he called, his voice booming and clear as a bell. "Observers, young and old, rich and poor, one and all! You've come for a fight and we've given you plenty—but there's more yet to come!"

Applause shook the sand. 

"You might be the most lucky of all, for tonight we have a unique spectacle! A rare specimen collected for your pleasure, unseen in the circus for generations! Behold!"

It wasn't until he appeared at my side that I realized how tall the gangly man truly was.

He must have stood seven feet high, and his hands were twice the width of Pa's. He grabbed my wrist and lifted my arm into the air—

And was disappointed when the audience replied with nothing.

"He looks like a boy, yes? Nothing more than an ordinary human, more fit as feeder than a fighter!" The audience laughed their agreement.

"You are wrong," the gangly man admonished, "for this boy is not what he appears to be, no. He is far more precious than most who walk the sand! Look closely now—can you see it?"

A few members of the audience tried.

"Can you see the beast lurking behind those innocent eyes?"

He grabbed my chin. Led by his spidery fingers, I was walked around the pit, my face presented for all to examine.  When we completed a full circle, he made a show of looking into my eyes. His dark irises held no mercy or softness.

"I can see it," the gangly man boasted. "I see what's hidden there. A fierce brute, snapping and clawing to be free!"

He dropped my chin and turned to the crowd.

"This boy is a disguise! Worn, no doubt, to lure unsuspecting prey closer. What we have before us here—is a champion!"

For a second I thought the audience would believe him. There was a scattering of hesitant applause. The gangly man leaned in and whispered in my ear:

"Go on, show them."

I craned my neck to look up at the man.

"I...I don't know how."

He frowned in bitter disappointment.

"Maybe we don't have a champion," he muttered before turning to the audience and putting on a mocking, sad expression. "Oh, the little thing is shy."

Laughter rang around us. My fists clenched at the insulting noise.

"We know what to do with shyness 'round here, don't we?"

A chant began. It started low and picked up with each recitation until the sound became a din that made my bones shake.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The gangly man nodded.

"That's right, my loves. Only a fight will make a coward bold! We'll see how shy he is when he's face-to-face with the Champion of the Pit herself—"

"No!" I heard Myranda shout.

"Grizzelda, the Fury That Devours Mercy!"

There was a boom as the audience rose to their feet. On the opposite side of the pit, a tent flap raised and a wide pathway was cleared.

Four wranglers led her to the pit, and my blood went cold when my opponent was revealed.

A massive brown bear wrapped in chains.

Her furious eyes searched the room before landing on me with deadly intent. The animal understood that I was the one she would fight. She pulled the chains around her thick, trunklike arms and the iron snapped like twigs before she tossed them—and the two unfortunate wranglers who'd been holding them—several feet across the pit. With a heavy grunt, she stood on her hind legs and held her arms out wide.

The heat of her roar hit my face.

She was a tower of muscle and rage, standing longer than the already giant gangly man.

And the crowd adored her more than anything else. They threw bones and trinkets into the pit, which appeared to have been brought solely for Grizzelda's pleasure. She took a few of the bones and snapped them in two with her jaws. From the shards and slivers, her teeth sharpened the white lengths into something resembling a knife.

Now the champion wielded two new weapons, though she had no need for them.

It was all for show, I realized.

All for the love of the audience.

The gangly man approached the bear and dropped into a respectful bow.

"Well, Champion, what do you think of your new challenger?"

I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't for the bear to open her mouth and speak.

"What challenger?" Grizzelda snarled.

The audience clapped in approval at her joke.

"He says he's too shy to fight you properly," the gangly man told the bear. "Can you show him how things are done in the pit?"

Under the noise, I heard Myranda screaming.

"It's not fair! You can't match him against the damned champion!"

I turned to face her and saw her eyes full of worry. The gangly man had heard her, too, and he delighted in prolonging the anticipation.

"Does the boy's caretaker have something to say?"

The audience turned their heads to the pale, sharp-eared woman. Myranda blanched under their attention, but grit her teeth and called back:

"It's his first fight! She'll massacre him!"

"And why should that matter to you?"

"It...it doesn't," Myranda said, though the lie was obvious in her tone. "But he's mine—my fighter! If he can't change, at least give him a sword or shield—anything, damn it!"

The gangly man looked at the audience.

"Circus rules state that weapons must either be held by the fighter when they enter the pit, or offered by the crowd. Does anyone here wish to throw the boy a gift?"

A chorus of disdain answered him. Myranda looked at me with pity and shook her head in disappointment. 

The gangly man grinned.

"Let the fight commence."

There was a blast of noise from a horn. The gangly man slipped from the pit, and suddenly I was alone with a champion.

Grizzelda secured the makeshift knives between her teeth before falling on all fours.

The bear charged me.

The effects of Myranda's potion were gone, as if I never drank it. The fire and courage and thirst for blood had left me, and in its place was a fear that froze my feet to the sand.

I had seconds left. One swing of Grizzelda's claw and I would be on the floor, listening to screams of approval as I died.

I've died before, I thought as the bear drew close. I don't think I'll come back this time.

Grizzelda came to a halt within a foot of me. She loomed over my insignificant frame and took the knives from her mouth, hovering them inches away from my neck.

Her mouth, bigger than my head, lowered to my ear.

"Change, boy," she whispered. I wasn't sure I'd heard her. "I'll distract them."

She turned to the audience.

"This is not a fighter!" she roared. "This is feeder!"

"Fight, damn you!" Myranda shouted at me. 

Grizzelda walked the pit, snarling at the audience as she went.

"I'm insulted by this meat! How dare you throw me an untested, weak coward?!"

The crowd seemed all the more delighted by her boasting.

"Do something!" Myranda yelled. "Throw sand in her eyes or climb on her back—move your ass!"

I balled my fists and turned inward.

Come on, I thought. Why are you hiding now?

The wolf did not reply.

I command you to change. Come out and fight. Please.

No reply.

You wanted to be free, didn't you? You wanted to fight. Fight now!

Grizzelda made a mocking show of me. With a simple flick of her paw, she pushed me onto my back. Shallow cuts were sliced across my stomach, but they did little more than rip my clothes. The bear threw her knives across the pit and declared she didn't need weapons to finish something as pitiful as me.

"I came for a fight but you gave me a meal!" 

She said this to the gangly man, who was watching from the edge of the pit with his arms crossed and a disapproving frown. He shrugged at the bear. Grizzelda turned her attention back to me and pressed her nose into my stomach.

"Stand up and fight," she growled loudly. Her breath washed over me like a foul wind.

In a quick whisper she added, "Please."

She doesn't want to kill a helpless boy, it dawned on me. There wasn't time to explain to my opponent that I had no control over my body.

I demanded the wolf to show itself and was answered with silence. 

But Grizzelda could no longer afford to test the patience of the audience.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and when I looked into her eyes I saw no malice.

Only remorse.

"I'll make it quick."

She swiped and her claws sunk into my stomach. I didn't feel the impact—

But a tingling rolled through my body. I looked down at the gash in my abdomen and touched the blood that spilled onto my legs.

The pain of the injury had yet to reach my brain. Perhaps the shock of dying was keeping it at bay.

The hair on my arms stood straight. Needle pricks blanketed my skin.

You're too late, I told the wolf. She's already killed us.

The familiar torment of changing rose, but it was noticeably less agonizing.

You're a fool, I told the wolf. 

The animal didn't seem to notice or care that we were bleeding out on the sand. Gray fur sprouted on my legs, blooming like weeds up my calf and thigh. I released a whimper as my face stretched and elongated into a snout.

Grizzelda pulled back. Her expression was a blend of confusion and compassion, as if she knew that the wolf had come too late. The bear stalled in her attack, and moved away to give me time, while making it appear that she was allowing the audience a chance to witness the spectacle of my transformation.

Myranda gave a joyful holler, and I rolled my eyes to find her smiling and pumping her fist into the air.

But I was terrified.

Instead of a boy, the audience would watch a wolf die.

I became aware of the silence in the room. All eyes were on me now, watching with interest as my form writhed and shaped into something new.

I wondered if the Authority was watching, too.

As quickly as it came, the change was complete. In place of a dying boy there was now a wolf, and my control was pushed back until it became nothing.

The wolf looked at its belly and found no wound there. Only a field of gray fur.

There was no pain.

The change had healed everything.

But now a fight was expected.

The wolf rose to its feet, strong and confident.

"Dear gods," I heard Myranda exclaim, "you see how big that brute is?!"

Grizzelda leaned in and touched her snout to the wolf. 

"That's more like it," she whispered. "Now let's end this horror."

It was an odd thing to say, not so much a taunt or threat as it was a tired acceptance. The bear's eyes, which previously held pity, were now filled with an old weariness, as if the pit had been her home for many years, and she'd known endless suffering and labor.

The champion didn't want to fight. She had to.

From within the depths of my mind, I spoke to her, not thinking she would hear me:

"I don't want to kill you."

"You won't, child," she answered with remorse. "But my promise stands. I'll make it quick."

She stood and turned to the audience, pointing a claw at the wolf. 

"We have a fighter now!"

Through no will of mine, the wolf moved to the edge of the pit opposite Grizzelda, then arched into a menacing pose. Its lips curled back to reveal deadly teeth, and it released a howl that vibrated through our shared body. Trapped within my mind, I  imagined sitting back to watch the fight. I made no attempt to regain control, but allowed the wolf full command over our life.

There came another blast from a horn, signaling the real fight had begun.

Grizzelda charged again, and I could see in her eyes that there would be no pause this time.

Not until one of us lay dead in the sand.

The wolf was ready and eager.

It moved swiftly from Grizzelda's path, spared by precious inches. The bear turned, and with a speed that betrayed her heavy weight she lashed out with a great, sweeping paw. Her claws closed around the wolf's tail and pulled. Pain rattled through the wolf's head and it shuddered as the bear pulled us close. The wolf thrashed and turned its head to sink its teeth into Grizzelda's arm. It tore fur from her and attacked the same spot, creating a wound that grew deeper with each bite. The animal was not deterred by the pungent taste of blood. It found it refreshing, delicious.

Glorious.

Grizzelda's claws released the tail and dug into the wolf's mane. She separated her attacker from her arm and threw it across the sand.

The impact might have broken the bones of a lesser beast, but my wolf shook the pain away and was on its feet in an instant. There must have been something magical at work, I thought as I marveled at its quick recovery. The wolf had healed the wound in my stomach, perhaps it had some mysterious ability to overcome injury.

After all, it was not a normal animal.

The next thing I knew, it was charging the champion.

They came together in a clash of teeth and claws, and as the wolf rose on its hind legs to meet Grizzelda I realized it was a much bigger animal than I imagined. While Grizzelda still had the advantage of height, the wolf was larger than any found in nature, and its mouth reached just under the giant bear's snout

There was a surge of anger, a need to destroy, and with adrenaline coursing through its veins the wolf felt little pain when Grizzelda dug her claws into its side. Blood poured and sunk into the sand, staining it a deep red.

As ferocious as Grizzelda was, the wolf was every bit her match. The bear was powerful, but what the wolf lacked in strength it made up for in speed.

For every strike landed upon it, the wolf gave three, and it tore into its opponent with unyielding brutality, only lifting its head to spit bits of fur and meat. 

They tumbled around the pit, rolling over each other several times, and both fighters took advantage of the precious seconds when they had the upper hand.

Every so often, out of necessity, they disengaged to collect their breaths.

But the wolf was impatient, not wanting to pause for longer than a few heartbeats. It was relentless in its pursuit, to the point where I began to think it had been driven mad by the taste of blood and the hum of the audience. It saw the world through a haze of red, and would not listen when I begged it to take a moment to restore its strength and heal the cuts that covered its body. Its fur was more red than gray now, and I feared the wolf meant to fight until it fainted from exhaustion.

Myranda continued to call from the edge of the pit, offering advice on where to attack, or complaining when the wolf made a move she deemed foolish.

After several rounds, Grizzelda's breath grew ragged. Her steps took on the slightest stumble, and one of her eyes, which had sustained a painful scratch, was flowing with tears. It was clear she was not used to long battles, and hauling her weight was becoming a hindrance. When they met once more, with the wolf's teeth near her throat and her claws gripped onto its shoulders, I heard her whisper, "Young wolf, worthy fighter."

The wolf's eyes rolled up to meet hers.

"You might believe I've grown tired of fighting. It's a terrible life, true. But it's mine, and it's the only one I've got. I am their champion for a reason."

Out of the corner of its eye, the wolf caught a flash of white. One of the bone knives Grizzelda tossed away had been retrieved during a moment of rest. With a mighty shove, she pushed the blade under the wolf's shoulder, and when the wolf's teeth loosened she grabbed its fur and lifted it into the air by the scruff of its neck. The knife withdrew and was positioned below.

All the bear had to do was let go, and the wolf's throat would fall upon the blade.

Myranda's shrill voice cut across the sand.

"Your legs, damn it! Use your legs!"

With a desperate push and swing, the wolf swiped its hind legs forward. Claws slashed in a downward motion, creating a tear across the champion's belly. It was not a deadly wound, but neither was it shallow. Grizzelda dropped her knife and her attacker, stunned for only a second, and clutched at the fresh injury with a pained moan.

The wolf did not waste its opportunity, and the instant its feet hit the ground they were off it again.

It lunged for the bear's head and connected, and when it withdrew there were several marks on the bear's face, from forehead to chin. Grizzelda roared in pain, and when she lifted her paws to touch her snout the wolf dove into her stomach. It dug into the wound already there, manic in its effort, unrelenting even when the champion clawed at its back. 

But Grizzelda's blows were weak from exhaustion. The wolf fought through the pain, continuing to scratch and bite, removing layers of skin until there was a peek of reddish white.

Grizzelda's insides were beginning to show.

I wanted to look away, to turn my head and empty my stomach.

Grizzelda's paws locked onto the wolf's head, trying to lift it from her stomach, squeezing so hard I feared she might crush its skull with her claws—

But it was too late. The wolf was already eating.

The champion's grip loosened and her huge body began to rock, until she fell onto her back, taking the ravenous wolf with her.

The wolf barely noticed their change in balance. 

The sand vibrated as the audience stomped their feet, and I could not tell if they were angry or pleased. Grizzelda attempted a swipe at the wolf.

"Wait!" she rasped. 

The wolf raised its head. The poor bear's face was a gruesome picture of torn skin. She took a few shallow breaths to collect herself.

"Dear boy, brave boy," she whispered.

Her eyes were not those of a ferocious beast.

I saw a kind and gentle soul. Almost like the eyes of a mother.

"Leave this place. Try."

She released a ragged sigh.

"Don't forget my name...please."

Through the wolf's eyes, I saw the carnage of her body, and was overcome with immense guilt and sorrow. It was a strange emotion to mix with the violent rage coursing through the animal that controlled me.

The bear's mouth curled into a slight smile and her eyes rolled back.

"I'm free..."

She twitched and shuddered, and with a sharp gasp the champion went still.

Calm washed over me, but with it came a sudden and great pain. The wolf was exhausted and badly wounded.

Like Grizzelda, it was dying.

I could feel whatever power lay inside already beginning to work. The smaller cuts were knitting together, but the wolf could not sustain the deeper injuries. It needed to go inward, to rest and heal.

There was no pain with the transformation this time, though I assumed it was overpowered by the suffering of battle.

Within seconds I was a boy, sitting atop an enormous bear, so small my knees began to sink into the wound in Grizzelda's stomach. The scratch she had given my own stomach was nearly gone, with only a thin, red scar on the surface, though I knew that too would disappear in short time.

I made the awkward climb down to the sand, mortified by the fact that I was naked before an audience of countless eyes.

I covered myself and cast a mournful gaze at the body of my fallen opponent.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her.

A trail of blood fell from the bear's mouth, and without understanding why I moved to wipe it clean with my hand.

Grizzelda, the Champion of the Pit, was gone. 

I will never forget your name, I promised.

And to this day, I remain true to my word.