Claws Of Pride , by Kaloki.J

9.

I avoid his gaze for a while until his attention is stolen by Night getting into the ring.  Everybody in the room applauds when she lifts her arm in the air and brings it back to pound her chest. Everyone turns to face the ring, as the boy I saw making out with his girlfriend slides under the ropes and faces Night. He does the same arm motion and the applause he gets almost rivals Night's.

Then the fighting begins with him throwing a punch out of nowhere, but Night is quick to move out of the way, one of her legs swinging back. She circles him before he can move away, and throws a kick aimed at his ribs. He's just as quick, but it grazes him. They both step away as applause numbs my ears, and I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. I'm rooting for Night with all my heart.

The arm from before blocks my vision from the fight below, holding out an unlit blunt for me. I turn to face the guy, a slight smile on my face and he smirks at me. Why is he so persistent?

"Keep it for later, it's a gift from me to you..." He says. "You look like you could you some... you know, loosen up a little!"

I scoff. The smirk on his face tells me he's flirting, but am not into guys that offer you drugs so I turn away, my eyes subconsciously finding Ozarion's. He's watching, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaits my next move. A slight laugh escapes my lips. I take the blunt away from the guy before he can pull his hand away and stick it between my lips. He offers a lighter too, but I only stay still and wait for him to light it for me. He chuckles as if amused, and obeys.

I feel the smoke fill my mouth and travel down my lungs with ease. Ozarion watches, his eyes unfurrowing as a smirk settles on his lips. He shakes his head, his fingers stroking his stubble. He then stands from his seat and heads towards the ring in elegant strides. They all part and move to let him through, like Moses parting the Red Sea. I notice the adoration in their eyes for him, a man who barely speaks, a man I've noted prefers solitude. I let the blunt stay between my lips as I watch him, just as loud screams from the crowd fill the room.

I missed the entire fight, he distracted me. Night stands with her hand in the air, gasping for breath. Her face is roughed up, the twists that were once neat on her head now a messy bundle running down her back and framing her face. There's blood running from her cheek to her neck, but a smile shines on her face. She bounces on her feet like a kid, celebrating her victory. It makes me smile, before taking another drag of whatever intoxicatingly addictive drug am smoking. The taste is familiar, I just can't seem to place it.

Ozarion gets in the ring, walks up to Night and pats her head. She looks up at him, before giving him a side hug and nestling her head under his arm. It's a sweet smile he gives her, a softness clouding in his ever-cold eyes. He says something to her, and she nods before her eyes pierce through the air between us to meet mine. I wave at her, and she waves back. With all the noise in this place, I can't eavesdrop on their brief exchange. He then pulls away and heads to help the guy passed out on the floor.

My head begins to feel fuzzy and light, so I give the blunt back and slip out of the room, as two more willing fighters step into the ring to face Night, who's more than ready to take them both.
....
Adita... Adita...

My name is a whisper in my brain, so quiet and alluring. I feel it. So I follow it blindly. It's not a dream. It’s real.

"Who are you!" I ask out loud, my eyes scanning my surroundings for any sign of a person, but the dark silhouette moving among the shadows of the trees above us doesn't wait for me. It keeps moving through the woods, luring me deeper and deeper into this beast of a forest.

"Stop!!" I yell, "Tell me who you are... you must..." My vision is blurry, making it harder to maintain my focus and posture. I can barely walk straight, or feel my legs, but I can tell that am barefoot from how sharp tiny rocks keep digging into my feet. It doesn't even hurt when thorns prick me, or splinters rapture my skin.