I woke up in a curious tent.

The walls were made of cloth painted in bright orange and red stripes and stretched higher than any I'd seen before. Tall as they were, the stripes created the illusion of bizarre trees gathered around me. The intense color was dizzying, making it difficult to stare at for more than a few seconds. A breeze blew the cloth in and out at a calm rhythm, mimicking a lung taking deep, slow breaths.

I was laid on a hard cot, and there were no crow men in sight. When I tried to sit up I realized I was tied down, with thick straps of leather across my arms and legs. Able to lift my head no more than a few inches, I searched the room for something to aid my release.

"Be still, little one," a woman's voice cooed behind me. 

A gloved hand touched my forehead in an attempt to calm me.

But I would not be soothed, and I shook my body as hard as I could and shouted in anger.

"You'll do no good that way," the voice said. "You'll wear yourself out before your first show, and then you won't be very entertaining at all."

I wondered if the wolf inside felt as desperate as I did, and if it would present itself to help our escape.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Where am I?"

"You're at the circus because you are now the property of it. And I am your caretaker, Myranda."

"I can't see you."

"No, not yet."

"Why?"

"Because I cannot let you up until you're calm."

A hand holding a cup appeared in front of my face.

"Drink," Myranda urged. "It'll help."

It tasted like water, but I did not trust the stranger who offered it.

"Can you behave nicely, so I can sit you up? Or shall I feed you still restrained?"

"I can behave."

"You won't be naughty and try to run?"

"I won't try to escape," I said through gritted teeth.

"Good, I'll trust you. I would hate to see them put a collar on you. Or hurt you until you submit."

The bands around my arms were loosened, but the ones around my legs remained. It was enough, at least, for me to sit up and turn to the one who spoke.

She looked human, though her skin was unnaturally pale, almost to the point of being blue. Her ears were long and pointed, but her face looked kind. When she smiled, however, she displayed a mouth full of sharp teeth. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, showing a muscle that was snakelike in both shape and length.

I motioned to the strap around my legs.

"You said you were going to trust me."

"Oh, I do, but only partly. I hope one day that will change." She set a spoon and a bowl of rice on my lap. "Time to eat. You need your strength for what's ahead." 

She gestured for me to begin. I picked up the spoon and scooped a bite of rice, but held the food under my nose and sniffed. I detected no poison, though admittedly I wouldn't know what such a thing smelled like. 

"What's ahead of me?" I asked. 

She sighed with pleasure. "A show unlike anything in the world! Our audience comes from all corners to see it."

"A show...like a play-show? With juggling and songs?"

"Not quite, little hero."

"And I'm going to be a part of it?"

"Yes, and many times, I hope!"

"If there's no songs, what kind of show is it?"

"It is..." She searched for the words, but after a pause I sensed she was hesitant to explain.

"It's many things," she said at last. "A spectacle. Mostly, it's a show of brave deeds and death."

"Death?" I lowered the spoon into the bowl. "Am I going to die?"

"Oh, that's certainly not my wish! The exact opposite, I want you to survive! To win!"

"Win?" It dawned on me. "I'm going to fight."

"Yes, that is your designation. You'll be matched against another, and the audience will cheer as you test your might." Her tongue flicked out and touched her cheek. "They'll cheer louder when you tear your opponent apart."

"I don't know how to fight."

"You'll learn. Or you won't live through your first show."

"And...who decides my opponent?"

"The Authority."

"Who's that?"

She shrugged. "Nobody's ever seen our leader, but the Authority owns the circus, so the Authority makes all of the decisions."

"I could refuse to fight."

"You wouldn't be the first or the last. But then the audience will hate you for your cowardice, though your opponent will be more than happy to have an easy match."

"What if we both refuse to fight?"

Myranda bit her lip. "You'll both be deemed 'feeder' by the Authority, and you'll take your place in a different portion of the show."

"The change—I was with another who was called that. Feeder."

"Yes, changelings make excellent feeder. So do imps and goblins. Not good for fighting, but very entertaining when they die."

I didn't want her to explain further.

"Please, Myranda, you must help me. I don't belong here. I'm not wicked like that changeling—I'm a boy! I can't kill anyone!"

"Stop that sort of talk right now," she hissed. "The Authority doesn't like reluctant fighters. The only thing that matters is the pit and the show you put on in it. Even a whisper of trying to leave and it's straight to being feeder. I won't tell on you this time, but you must never say anything like that again." Her eyes narrowed and she gave a sly smile. "We both know you're not just a boy. How do you control the change? How do you keep the wolf patient?"

"I don't," I admitted. "It comes and goes as it pleases."

"I see. Let's hope it pleases to take over during the show."

I was made to eat half the bowl of rice before Myranda was satisfied. She allowed me another drink of water, and as I lifted the cup to my lips there was a sudden roar.

The call of a thousand voices, so loud it shook the cot beneath me.

"The audience cheers," Myranda said wistfully. "The show is beginning."

The thunder of battle followed. I could not tell which direction the noise came from, whether around or above or below me.

Someone screamed and the audience applauded.

"What happens if I win? Will the Authority free me?"

I hoped that if I fought and won, I might be rewarded.

"I told you not to speak of leaving."

"I didn't mean escape, I meant—"

"Silence! This is the second time I'll warn you about such talk. There will not be a third. Nobody leaves. Nobody wins freedom. Forget such a thing exists, for it is impossible to attain now. You will serve the circus until you die, and hopefully you won't die for many years and many battles. If you win, your reward is the love of the audience and the appeasement of the Authority. Your dream now should be of surviving long enough to become the Champion of the Pit. You'll be adored and respected. You'll be showered with gifts and feast on delights before every match. But you'll never, not even then, taste freedom. Become the champion and live in luxury between fights. That is your goal. That is all. That is the circus."

"What about you? Do you fight?"

"Me?" She laughed. "I serve the circus and the Authority by tending to those who walk the pit. But I know my place, and I understand that should I ever displease my betters, they'll find use for me as feeder. So I do not upset them. A lesson you'll do well to learn quickly."

"I could tend to fighters, like you."

She hit me playfully on the shoulder as if I had told a good joke.

"A wolf serving? Have some pride, my would-be champion. A wolf is a killer. There's none more fit for the pit than you. I'll help you to see it, in time."

Distant horns blew, a chilling fanfare that signaled something grand was happening. Myranda stood and took the bowl from my lap.

"I need to get you to the pit. Don't refuse me now. I don't wish for you to die before you've even had the chance to fight."

She clasped my wrists with shackles at the end of a long chain before loosening the straps on my legs. With giddy excitement, she ushered me to my feet.

We moved through a series of connected tents, all painted in the same orange and red, until Myranda stopped at a leather flap that served as a door. Behind it, I heard great clamoring. Myranda nudged me with her elbow.

"You may peek inside, if you wish, and watch a match in progress. Some fighters believe it's helpful to do so."

I shook my head. A part of me wanted to look inside, but another was afraid of what I would see.

At my refusal, Myranda produced a vial of red liquid.

"This will give you courage," she said as she offered it to me.

"I don't want to drink that."

"And I don't want the Authority to think you are weak. It looks just as bad on me, you know, to send a coward into the pit. Consider my reputation."

She grabbed my chin and forced my mouth open. The liquid splashed across my tongue, and it was exceedingly bitter. Myranda closed my mouth and didn't release me until I swallowed.

Warmth spread through my body.

"We're not supposed to use tricks, but the Authority won't mind. It is your first show, after all."

I coughed and wiped tears from my eyes. I was overcome with the urge to strike Myranda, to get revenge for making me take the foul drink. I pictured her eyes bulging as I took the snake tongue from her mouth—

I realized my thoughts were not my own. They were being swayed in a direction not of my choosing.

Myranda's potion was working. I felt bold and strong.

Ready to fight.

"Why don't you try looking in on the show now," Myranda suggested. "See what awaits you."

I pushed through the flap door.

The din on the other side hit my face with force, knocking me a step back in surprise.

The room and the audience within it were massive. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of onlookers sat in raised rows that circled around the tent, their eyes all trained on a large pit of sand in the middle of the room.

Two white horses, magnificent and bigger than any I'd ever seen, were at opposite corners of the pit, stomping their hooves upon the ground. Sprouting from each of their shoulders were enormous wings, powerful enough to lift the animals into the air.

I wondered if they weren't really horses, but angels.

Their hooves had been sharpened into points, which turned their feet into deadly daggers. They gnashed at the air, showing strong teeth that were ready to bite.

Snarling between them was a serpent as big as three houses stacked on top of each other. Its black scales glistened under the light of countless torches, and on its back were four leathery wings. The wings did not seem capable of lifting the giant body of their owner, but at their ends were formidable claws. The serpent opened its mouth to release a roar, revealing fangs as tall as a grown man.

From some mysterious place, a horn blasted a long note.

The fight began.

I suspect the potion Myranda gave me riled my fury, for the sight of battle roused my desire to jump into the pit and join the fight. There was fire in my blood, my heart, my mind, but it was not the sort of fire that plagued me before the wolf. It was the fire of war, which made me shudder with anticipation for the moment when I would hold the attention of the audience.

The moment I would be allowed to kill.

The horses took flight and darted around the serpent's head, while the great beast snapped at them with its jaws.

As I watched, I could feel the wolf scratching at my insides.

Growing more desperate to be released.

In that moment, we were connected by a consuming thirst for combat.

One of the horses distracted the serpent by nipping at its scaled belly, while the other flew high into the air before diving for the beast's head. As it descended, it pointed its hooves and landed a blow above the serpent's right eye.

The audience roared their approval.

The serpent swung at its opponents, but its wings had limited range. The horses took this brief advantage and moved in for a simultaneous attack on the serpent's neck. It appeared the fight would be over quickly, and I could not help but feel disappointed.

But the serpent was hiding a trick.

It waited for the horses to fly high into the air, and as they fell at rapid speed the beast reared back to face them and opened its mouth.

A glow rose in its belly, and I watched it climb up the beast's neck.

Light erupted from its mouth, creating a constant jet of fire.

One of the horses managed to evade the attack by switching course and gliding away the second fire poured from the serpent. The other was not so lucky and was engulfed by flames. Its charred corpse plummeted to the ground, and when it hit it made an eerie thud before the ashes of its bones began to crumble.

Silence overtook the room. Several members of the audience stood, open-mouthed in awe at the black stain on the floor. It was quiet enough to hear the living horse keen over its fallen companion. It retreated to a corner of the pit and covered its face with a wing.

The silence did not last, for the audience erupted into cheers and applause, and every last voice rose to chant the same word over and over:

"Srax! Srax! Srax!"

I understood they were calling the serpent's name.

But one opponent remained, and when Srax found the animal its mouth opened once more.

Strangely, the flames did not spill into the audience. An invisible force had been put in place, a wall or shield, and when fire touched the boundary it drifted up instead of continuing forward, climbing like wicked ivy toward the ceiling. Something had been put around the pit to protect the audience, or, more likely, to keep combatants from leaving.

The fight was finished, and the audience rose to their feet to congratulate the victor. I was struck with a tinge of jealousy. I wanted their approval, I wanted the love of all those voices.

For its part, Srax appeared unconcerned over anyone and anything. It slithered to the remains of its defeated foes and sifted through the ashes with a long, forked tongue.

"Magnificent," I heard Myranda whisper behind me.

I turned to face her, a sudden chill racing through my body.

"Am I going to fight that?"

She shook her head.

"Srax has won her fight. One per show, that's the rule. And she's certainly not the proper opponent for your first fight."

"Who will I fight then?"

"You'll know when you're in the pit and not a moment before."

"Why?"

"Because...there's no sport in planned battles. Yes, the surprise is half the fun! The Authority knows what the audience craves, and that's a fight based on pure, savage instinct."

She was lying, and failing miserably at masking it.

"You don't know who my opponent is, do you?"

Myranda sighed. "No, my fur-assed friend, the Authority doesn't tell anyone about the matches. But I do know that you will not be carelessly thrown in with a seasoned fighter. The Authority will start you small to test your mettle. It's an honor to walk the pit with someone like Srax, and you haven't earned it. Yet."

"My name is Josiah," I said with a snort, "and my backside does not have fur."

"Doesn't it?"

By the time I turned back to the pit, Srax was being ushered out by several wranglers. They looked the same as the crow men who bought me, with feathered arms and glowing eyes. When the pit was empty another crew took their place to clean the sand.

Myranda squeezed my shoulder and kissed my cheek.

"That's for luck. I'll be watching. Should you need guidance, listen for my voice."

She took the shackles from my wrists. A handful of crow men appeared at my side and took my arms, leading me toward the pit.

"Fight well," Myranda called behind me, "for the audience and the Authority."