"Combatant 976," an Elder female shouted out my number. "Ring four. Fighting combatant 201."
I hopped from my bench and entered the ring for the final round in the all-female melee that would determine my official placement in the grand free-for-all tourney.
Compared to yesterday, the morning had been strict and rigorous. I had to wake up early and keep a tight schedule as I earned my way into the top-tier roster. The matches were scattered throughout several temporarily co-oped outdoor gyms and training grounds and because of my non-stop victories, I made appearances in every division.
This was my last stop. The next round would decide if I ranked First Champion or would come in at Honorable Second.
My opponent entered the ring and the sight of her put me in high spirits. It was Kazz'mon!
"Mourning Crow," the beautiful jade-green and canary-yellow doctor nodded and bowed her golden crest of long quills in my direction. "I'm glad to see your mate delivered my hypospray and there were no adverse reactions."
"On time and feelin' fantastic!" I bounced. "He even gifted his most recent contribution in the form of a first-hand demonstration of traditional yautja street-mating last night in the distillery district."
"A most considerate lifemate," Kazz'mon smiled and took her place across the ring with exquisite grace. "Shall we now determine which donor each of us acquires?"
"Combatants," the Elder referee raised her claws. "Fight!"
Kazz'mon moved like a phantom cat with speed comparable to mine. She leaped over my head and landed behind me with extraordinary guile.
One of the wonderful things about fighting yautja women was that they lacked an ulterior motive. It was refreshing facing an opponent whose sole intent was only to kill you.
I spun and dipped when I heard her claws cut through the air and fly straight for my eyes. Then I deflected her arms and kept up with her tempo.
Of all the women here today, Kazz'mon was the only one poised with a major advantage. She was well-versed in my anatomy and had calculated all of my weaknesses. I could be swift and clever all day and still not make a dent. Defeating her would require creativity and showing her something unpredictable.
I hopped away to the edge of the ring and shifted my stance, throwing my claws out wide with a baritone roar, and bent my legs firmly akimbo.
The referee along with Kazz'mon and several other women crooked their heads sideways in bemusement. She'd been fighting women all day and the last thing anyone expected was for me to debase myself and fight like a large grunting male.
Kazz'mon zigzagged while I stomped forward. She came at me on all fours, ready to pounce and slash me to ribbons. But instead of dodging, I lunged and tackled her to the ground.
I was channeling Eh'kt from last night with his lesson on yautja mating and his use of dominance and force to shove me down and bend me over.
She hissed and twisted into a death roll within my arms but I caught her and lifted her entire body over my head. Then I stood there holding her up high and waited for her to make her move.
Kazz'mon contorted, determined to flip around and take hold of my arms, so I dropped her and kicked her square in the ribcage.
Kazz'mon stalled her roll and reset to leap at me all over again.
Once more I roared, and then I charged and slammed into her head-on. She scratched and I ignored her. She tried to break loose but I kept on pushing, and squeezing, and gave her nowhere else to run.
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The Hunter's Song
Science FictionIn winning, she lost everything. Mourning Crow was kidnapped at age 13 and forced to compete in a 1000yr death match. She won the final showdown, and all it cost was everyone she loved. But that was all years ago before she finally broke free. Now s...