The Battle Begins by Devon Hughes Page A

Castor with relief.
    Then Slim snarled, “Where have you been, mutt?” and kicked him, and the feeling passed.
    The holding area was blazingly hot, and Slim had lit one of his fire sticks, so the air was choked with smoke. Castor’s eyes watered and his nose burned and he was panting like crazy from the heat, but he was happy to stay in here forever if it meant he could put off the fight a little longer.
    Slim clipped a leash on Castor and yanked him over beside him, but otherwise, the handlers didn’t pay him much attention. Horace sat on a chair with his thick hands clasped together, and Slim leaned with one foot against the door, and both men stared intently at a little box that hung on the wall.
    From down on the floor, Castor craned his neck to get a better look, and he couldn’t believe what he saw. Inside the box, he could see the other captives so clearly—from the tiny stripes on Enza’s tail to the diamond design on Deja’s skin—that at first he thought the Whistlers had shrunk them. Castor barked in alarm.
    â€œQuiet!” Slim blew a quick, shrill toot on his whistle, and Horace turned to glower at him for the interruption.
    His ears still ringing, Castor looked back at the box. He saw the light glinting on the screen now, and he realized it must be glass or a virtual image, like he’d seen onthe buildings in Lion’s Head. Still, the match was as real as anything.
    Deja slithered around the perimeter of a large, circular clearing—looking for a way out, Castor guessed—while Enza stalked the center, tracking the snake’s progress.
    â€œWhat are they doing?” Slim peered at the screen. “Why aren’t they fighting?”
    The audience seemed to be getting impatient, too. Castor could see them standing up in their seats and waving their arms, and though the volume on the box was turned off, he could hear the boos through the walls and feel the vibration of the sound. Castor’s own nerves returned—he hadn’t realized the arena was so terrifyingly close.
    â€œMaybe they need a little nudge,” Horace said. He wheeled his chair backward and hit a big red button with his palm. “That should do it.”
    In the little box, the screen seemed to blur, until Castor understood that it was the animals that were blurring—Enza and Deja were both shivering strangely. Castor wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew it couldn’t be good. Despite his fear of Horace, he leapt to his feet and barked at the big man.
    Enough! he growled. Stop hurting them!
    â€œEasy, Underdog,” Slim snickered. “You’ll get your turn soon enough.”
    But Horace was already lifting his hand, and when he released the red button, the two animals seemed to understand what they had to do, and immediately took off toward each other.
    The match had finally started.
    Enza crouched like a practiced huntress, her body quivering and ready to spring toward her prey. But though the grizzly-tiger’s pose was distinctively feline, she seemed to sense the awkwardness of her huge, lumbering body, and instead of lunging, she danced away from the snake’s zigzagging advances.
    â€œI thought we were gonna see those sharp sabers flashing!” Slim pouted. “And why is the Cunning still on the ground?”
    â€œIt’s like this every season,” Horace explained. “Their old instincts are still kicking in.”
    A bear would have stood up to its full height and used its weight to swoop down and stamp at the snake with its giant front paws. A saber-tooth might have swiped at the reptile with its knifelike incisors. But Enza crept low to the ground like a cat, failing to make use of her new body.
    Still 100 percent snake, Deja seemed much more comfortable in her own skin. She slashed a side-winding pattern across the floor of the arena toward the grizzly-tiger, forcing Enza back into a corner.
    Suddenly, Deja shot