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Come And Get Me

Clara

As I watched the Coliseum fights, I understood why werewolves were willing to kill themselves to get in. There was a heady atmosphere that stirred my pumping blood. Warriors of every size and race fought down in the sandy pits. I saw creatures that I had only seen in books: monitor lizards, tigers, lions, and panthers. The Coliseum wasn’t just a gladiator free-for-all. There were circus acts of skilled acrobats leaping in the air, knife jugglers, and jesters. Drummers kept a steady tempo that thrummed throughout the entire stadium, and musicians blew trumpets when a fighter triumphed over his opponent.

I could feel the roaring crowds pulsate like one living, breathing being. There was no rank or caste here. We were either fighters or spectators. Entertainment and the thrill of the fight drew us all together. Some fights truly tested the limits of the werewolf fighters, and I found myself gripping the stone seat as I watched. When two Allied Hunters fought, it was like they were
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