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Lars blew out a long breath and let her eyes flicker closed. She dreamt. Sand, baking sun, red rocks stained in shadows leeched of all but the most resilient of plant life. Hard, dry, baren. The rocks cracked under her hooves as she walked down the twisting half for formed trail to the lee of the mountains. The baking sun that burned the rocks even through her hooves crumbled to dust as she tread upon them. Anger, frustration, rage, each burned inside her just as hot. Smoldering embers slowly kindling to a blaze with each step forwards.
Above the screaming of the carrion birds echoed down the canyon. They knew what was to come and were calling their impatient cry to the winds.

Twenty yards, she scanned the horizon line. That was the rule, or one of them anyways. Not that anyone ever bothered to play by the rules in this game. No one ever did if they planned to win. A whispered word here, a bribe there, and suddenly a supply chest may just be filled with rocks instead of a brace of grenades like you hoped. She wouldn’t be surprised if her stash had somehow gone missing. It had happened before.

That just meant that like before she would have to have a conversation with the one in charge. That tended to end any other mishaps, lessons would be learned, and repeated as necessary.

The chains clinked against her legs as she walked, the manacles had been hammered into place that morning. Reforged anew, the metal heated bright hot and the links pounded one by one into place. Double strong this time, can’t have the contestant breaking them with a few well-placed kicks now. That would be cheating. And the spectators hated cheating unless it was in their favor. That too was expected.

Shifting her gaze up to the rocky canyon walls she could make out the glint of metal far in the distance, a spotter, or a spectator, it didn’t matter. She had two of her own, spectators, keeping an eye on the competition. The smart ones learned to strip away any metal, or at least conceal it from the light, dull the metal, smear dirt onto your face, become invisible. Keep things fair.

Lars smiled. The idea amused her, it was like a cruel joke that people would laugh at because they were expected too. Blend in, be one of the herd, not one of the outsiders. Pressing her face to the earth she drew in a deep breath, she could smell him, the plant had come this way, lazy, taking the easiest way down, good sign. Probably wanted to get out in a hurry, get a good view to watch the show.

That meant that her stuff should be here. Basics, nothing to fancy, after all the spectators where here for a show not a one sided blood bath by someone with a sniper rifle. Didn’t mean that there wasn’t one hidden here, or that someone had done a number on the sights or knocked up the scope a few times with a decent sized rock for good measure. No, people didn’t pay for that, they wanted a show, and she was here to deliver one.

Not that this wasn’t all one sided, Lars mused as she squinted at a freshly turned patch of earth and began to dig into the sandy grit with her hands, the manacles clinking as she worked. This was a pay to play event, one that all sides could make good money on. If you placed the right bet.

Lars always bet on herself, or, had her two seconds do so for her. A contestant could claim part of the price, but never a real slice, that was frowned upon. But if a contestant had a sponsor, and depending on how likely it was for that sponsor to drop several fire bombs down into the pit, well, that slice tended to grow.

Fingers brushing against the metal surface of the trunk, Lars smiled as her hand closed around the handle. A solid pull freed the metal case from its earthen tomb, and with a few well placed kicks the lock snapped free from the frame. Should have reinforced it. Probably would next time. Cant have a contestant using unusual physic, to her advantage.

Prying open the lid, sand grinding in the hinges as she looked inside. There a forty four and two reloads awaited her. And a crude metal saw, lock pick, and a file. Snorting, she picked up the file, most newbies tried for the hack saw, takes too long and never could get a grip on it. If you had a lock that was fine, but in her case the links had been hammered together, to give the other contestants a fighting chance. Or someone bribed a judge. She suspected the latter to be more likely.

Not that it mattered, she had everything she needed. Grabbing the hacksaw, she went to work making two small groves in the metal before using the file like a hammer to flatten the notch. Jamming the end into one of the links she twisted, the leverage and angle working to her advantage. And with a simple twist the protesting metal screamed and snapped. One down, one set to go.

And then the fun would begin.

With a snort Lars awoke. She couldn’t place what had jolted her from her sleep, but her senses were already screaming at her to be on guard. Ears swiveling around the room before her eyes had even opened, her other senses told her that there was someone in the room with her.

Someone nearby.

About to jerk off her covers and throw them into her would be assailant’s face she was stopped with a word.

“Pony.” Mac’s voice came from the darkness. “You sure you want to do that?”

For a moment she warred with herself, the debate of the satisfaction of trying to strangle the wolf with her blankets almost out waying his sudden company.

“No.” She breathed after a few tense heart beats. “It’s cold. How the- how did you get in here?”

“The door.” Mac smiled, his amber eyes lighting up in the dark.

“Obviously.” Lars snorted, smiling despite herself. “I didn’t think they allowed visitors after curfew.”

“I asked for an exception.”

“Sure you did.” Lars grumbled. No doubt the wolf had done some string pulling, or, more likely used that honeyed tongue to get himself though the door. “What are you doing here? Come here to make more jokes about lame horses?”

“Not this time.” Mac smiled reaching to the floor and coming up with a small laptop computer. “I thought you could use some entertainment being couped up here all day.”

Lars ground her teeth, her first instinct was to grab the laptop and use it as a crude bludgeoning tool against the wolf’s head. Not that she expected it to do much harm, she had tried before with a real computer and he seemed stubbornly unaffected or worse for the wear.

That and she had been slowly losing her sanity staring at the walls.

“Fine.” She consented, folding her arms over her chest. “What did you have in mind – and if this is one of those Wolves gone Wild flicks I am going to break this thing over your head.”

“Nothing so spicy.” Mac grinned, she had to restrain herself from smiling back. “I thought you may appreciate something a little more down to earth. Move over Pony.”

“Hey! What do you think your doing?” Lars protested as he pushed her to the side.

“I’m moving in.” Mac grinned as he fell into her bed, taking up the lions share as he wrapped an arm around the zebra. “You don’t expect me to sit hunched over throughout the whole film do you?”

“Maybe.” Lars muttered, too shocked to formulate any other response and feeling oddly grateful for the company. “Move over, your hogging my warm spot.”

“Here, I’ll do you one better.”

Before Lars could protest, Mac’s arm was snaking around her, pulling her over onto his chest.

“There.” The wolf mused looking down at her. “Better?”

Snorting, Lars hated that she couldn’t find anything to protest about.

“Fine. But lose the shirt.” She managed after a moment of gnawing on her lip.

“As my lady desires.”

“And the pants too.”

“Hey now. We both know what will happen if those come off Princess.” Mac tapped her nose with a claw. “And the nurse assures me, you are not quite up to that kind of physical exertion just yet.”

“I just wanted you to be, comfortable.” Lars lied, it was a bad lie, and poorly delivered too.

Laughing, Mac shook his head.

“Alright, let’s go with a classic.”