Spit and blood mixed in her mouth, a sour, metallic taste she seemed to know all too well and still hated. But no matter how much she despised the bitter flavour, she loved the color. The deep, rich crimson red of life, such a beautiful and tragic thing to see splattered across one’s face and blade. Men and women hollered on the top of their lungs all around the pit, thirsty for the same thing she tasted in her mouth before she spat most of it out on the dust covered ground. Running her tongue over her pearly, red stained teeth before she peeled back her lips in a snarl, the hound circled her opponent just as he did her, eyes set ablaze with only one goal in mind: cash. Aiden had her going against a Lycanthrope twice her size and told her the wolf was boasting about how he could snap her pretty little neck if he really wanted to despite her gruelling reputation. But the bigger they are, the harder they fall, isn’t that how the saying goes?