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Welcome** to ***the City*

Things escalated quickly. I entered the Seven Daggers' territory timid and anxious, and,a few hours later, here I am,wearing nothing but my feminine collar and bracelets --the "don't break your leg" charm relocated to my ankle, under Charlotte's fashion advice-- and my new chastity cage. It's transparent, made of plastic, snug but comfortable;although it keeps my penis half-unsheathed,packed,and curved down in a very humbling way. There is no locking mechanism, the thing is glued shut and can only be removed by cutting.It has an engraved serialnumber,so one can check that I didn't temper with it, thenreplaced it.Trickshot was given the little plastic plate with a copy of that number, as a kind of trophy, and has been my new protective best friend eversince.

I shared my plums with him, Curveball, and my favorite Pomeranian while walking. It all seems so... normal, here. With all the scary hyenas and sexually loaded atmosphere, it's like if my shame and prey instincts have been saturated to the point of exhaustion and I am surprisingly serene. More than Iused to beat my quiet home, even. It is not unpleasant! Meeting a few guest tourists, as we all converge to the city, stillgives me somebouts of blushing, however. Most of them are predators;I oversaw a giraffe, tall enough to be hard to miss, and a buffalo. No other gazelles. Does that make me a brave one? I never consider myselfas such...

Trickshot and the top hyenas attract a lot of attention from the newcomers, they arefamous Mob Rugbyplayers. Speaking of which, they have to go to prepare for theincomingmatch; even Kura, who doesn't play but has some job involving carpets --I missed most of the chat where he explained this one-- to deal with at the stadium. So we split on arrival, only Bloo and the female gazelle remaining to guide us.Plus our escortofpainted dogs, of course, but, as Umenzi keeps her distances from Curveball, they are easy to forget in the crowd.

--

"VlkvnK," announces the entrance's signboard, in heavy, gothic, white on dark red, thick letters full of spikes. Bloo explains that the city's name is "Volkvang", but that vowels arefor the weak, and that the letter Glooks too soft. We're too busy trying to decipherthe motto under, "!VnksHR PrsH!"(Vanquish or Perish!), to question theseodd statements.

It's grayer and dustier than home, walls are made of concrete instead of mud, the buildings are taller but the streets wider, and the hyenas love their neon: giant skulls above us are gnawing at bones, stylized ladies are dancing waving whips, and a ton of unreadable messages full of K and Z but lacking vowels blink.

Large covers are pulled over the street from the building's tops, protecting us from the sun's fierce rays and keeping the place dim with zigzagging slices of light here and there. When the wind blows, they rustle and their attaching wires tinkle. And, as they are often decorated, yes, even when looking up you still see skulls, bones and knives. Frankly, I'm almost surprisedto walk on plain old dirt!

Today,the main street is full of boots selling snacks and souvenirs, and crowded with visitors.

"Oh, wow!Are you Curveball?I saw you in a magazine! Can we take a picture?"We arestopped by an excited couple of tigers. The male rudely brushes me away to get behind Curveand is already placing a thick hand on her shoulder, while his lady is stepping back and raising a camera.

The gazelle takes it graciously. "Sure! But don't you want a better pose than that? Don't be shy: grab my horn."

He gladly snatches her sawed short horn, and pretends, poorly, to be running anddragging herbehind. Demonstrating an impressive balance, she leans forward, standing on the tip of one foot with her arms in the back. In a _much_more dynamic posture,that will make his picture almost believable.

"You next, honey! Hand me the camera! Did you set the apertureright?"

"I set it perfectly. ButI'm not sure I..." Despite the tigress' hesitations, her mate is pulling her forward without listening.

Curveball looks amused, and winks to her. "His pose may not fityour style, Miss."

"Right,"sheconfirms with relief, "I don't want to look goofy."

"Let's try something more dignified, but suitably powerful. Grab my wrist..." She offersit.

The tigress catches it gently. The contrast of the two females' physiques, huge, strong, hand around such a delicate wrist, is striking. "Like this?"

"Tighter, hun. And pull up some: I'm a mob ball, I'm not made ofglass."

The feline obeys, and I see her pupils narrowing and her expression grow more serious when she stretches the lighter body.

"Put your other hand on the side of my neck, to support me, please." When given that support, she arches and leans, looking more and more like a captured prey surrendering to her predator. "Your claws..."

"Oh, dear! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that I unsheathed them..."

"You didn't, hun. Please do."

At this point, the tigress's breathingshortens and she tenses. Slow and careful, she lets her claws dig into the thin fur.

Curveball sighs and further tilts her head, pressing into that hand while presenting the other half of her neck. "Much better. Now, it's up to you... but if you want to place your teeth on me, you may. As long as you're careful."

The tiger muffles something. He's now clenching at his camera well too tight.

His mate has a long hesitation, frozen save a lashing tail, eyes locked onto the offered neck. She licks her lips, slowly bares her fangs, starts to lower her muzzle.

"Nice and careful, this is good..."

My instincts are kicking hard and my heart skips a beat when the tigress opens wide and wraps her jaws around the other gazelle's jugular.

The ladystays still. After several seconds, the male remembers to take the picture. The camera's noise shakes herout of it,and she removes her mouth.

"Oh, dear!"

"It's alright, Miss: that picture will be just for you and he." Curveball straightens up, frees herself, and brushes the side of her neck.Sensually.

The two felines nearly run away after this, but the lady can't stop purring and the male's pants fail athiding his erection.

I belatedly remember to breathe again. "Wow!"

"Hehe! I don't have a lot of fans, so I always tryto make their day."She sticks her tongueout. "Well, fan is an overstatement: I think he just saw my face in a sports magazine,and wanted to be on a picture with whoever semi-famous he could catch. And she had no clue about me at all." She chuckles.

Bloo shakes her head: "Don't undersell yourself. By now, you can definitely count those two as fans."

That makes me curious. "It's weird that you don't attractmore of them. You're good at this, and I heard you were as much of a star as Trickshot."

The compliment earns me a smile. "As much as a star as him, in the male leag __u_ e_.But thank you!"

"So?"

It's the hyena whoexplains to me, with an annoyed shrug: "Nobody cares about the male league, Swara. That's mob rugby we're speaking of: they want the muscle and the violence, not little boys' play! The males have great teams, with a lovingly technical style of their own, and some fierce champions, but they lack mainstream recognition as 'true' players."

Charlotte clears her throat loudly at this: "Nobody cares about the male league,yet. They have wonderful untaped potential: actually, the less violent image, being male, and theirunderdog position... all these are super good for mainstream appeal outside of the Seven Daggers. You just need a good advertiser with the right connections. If I can convince the clans to work with me, I'm certainthat by the end of yourSmall Brawl Cup,next fall, you will be the next big thing."

Bloo smiles down fondly to the mini-dog, with all her red teeth. "We?"

"Of course! The Mudlark clan'sboys have their rightful place in the league, just like the others. As for your females..." She pats the hyena's nearest hand. "It'll be more work. I don't know yet all theoptions we will have nor all theresistancewe will face.And,more importantly,there are too many decisions that I can't take on my own just because I'm bringing somemoney: you are the oneswho fight that fight and live that life, so I'll need a big talk with you all. I'll do my best to help, in the ways _you_decide."

Idon't get the chance to ask what's special about the Mudlarks: noticing a hung carrion kind of sidetrack me!

--

It's a hyena, decomposed until only the skeleton, coated with some sinister goo, and some dark rags remain;muzzle agape and skull painted with a monogram. He's hung by a wire, arms somehowheldspread.

When I finish shivering with my eyes all wide, I start noticing all the wrong details. Like the hands' bones all fused, or that it has a "bony" tongue: that thing is a sculpture! Wood and/or papier-mache! And the goo is, guessing from the scent, enginegrease.

Bloo notices my reaction and comes patting my neck reassuringly. "Oh! Sorry, I should have warned you: there are a lot of these signals in town."

"S-signals?"

"Yes: we are a fission/fusion society, so our towns are not towns in the way you conceive them. See Volkvangmore as a bunch of separate neighbor villages sharing some infrastructure. Each belongsto its own clan. So we place these things, marked with identifying initials, to indicatewhich block belongs to whom."

"Let me guess: old tradition?"

"Yup."

"Weren't made of wood and paper in the Dark Ages?"

"Yup. Speaking of which, we are a lot kinder to trespassers nowadays, but I'll give you a map showing the public roads and friend neighborhoods you may shortcut through without being very impolite."

"Wow."

With a hyena chuckle, she grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around so I stop glancing too nervously. "Relax, pointy boy. Hey, look at that: the clans put up some entertainment for the visitors! We know that, when arriving here, guests tend to have a... rush of the playful."

"Ah. I know what you mean, yes." I look at the gathering she pointed,and have to stretch to see through the spectators.

Charlotte is bouncing impatiently. "What is it? I can't see!" Bloo picks her up and places her on her shoulders.

Two male hyenas are standing completely naked between public lamps. Each adorns a tight muzzle and has his hands taped togetherand his wrists and forearms taped to one pole. And they have one knee and ankle connected toeach otherby more blackadhesive: given the distance between their lamps, they have to stretch arms, curl sideways, and raise and spread their secured legs,leaving them precariously balanced on one foot.Their bodies are completely accessible.

This already looks very uncomfortable, but,in addition, tourists are placing clothespinseverywhere on them: their genitals received _a lot_of attention, and so didtheir nipples, but they have more all over the sides and bellies, under their raised feetand armpits, on the ears. A chuckling dog isyanking the left one's tail to aim somewhere under, while a cat stretches on his toes to clamp the other's lowerlip between his muzzle's sidestraps.

A female hyena is watching over the show, holding a handbasket full of clothespins for visitors to fish in,and removing the ones that stayed long enough to her taste on the boys. I notice that this removal causes a lot more wincing,squirming,and muffled whining than the application, especially when she gets playful and slowly pulls and wriggles them away instead of just opening them.

Holding the difficult pose for an extended time must be a torment of its own, and their muscles are tensed and their breathing short. Yet, they endure pretty quietly, sometimes nodding silently to a hesitant tormentor, or tenderly leaning into their mistress' hand when she grants them some petting and a smile,after making themshed atear with an especially vicious clamp ripped from the frenum.

My chastity cage grows very uncomfortable, and how transparent it is makes it impossible for me to conceal what's going on.

Curveball has a big grin on her face, but spares me any comment. As for Charlotte and Bloo, they are too distracted to notice.

"Awww, tormented hyena boys! They are so cute!"

"I was sure you'd like them, Pom-pom. Their owner is The Murder Party, a friend;I can make you skip the line. Wanna add one clothespin? Or ten?"

"Oh, yes!"

"How about you, Swara?"

I swallow. "Oh, I'm not sure..."

But Curveball starts pushing me forward: "We're in, dibs on the left one's taint, he still has room there that doesn't look hurt enough!"

So, the hyena whistles aloudand waves to her friend: "Mury! I requisition your toys for five minutes!"

--

I shyly place a pair of clamps under the male's taint, quite sorry about how much fun I'mhaving (in my case, mostly from imagining myself at his place without having to endure his predicament for real).

Curveball places something like a full dozen! Not without flicking at the skin to make it tense,before carefully pinchingjust a little of it, for maximal agony.

Charlotte takes her sweet time, turning around the second male and savoring the selection of creative targets as much as the actual action. She begins by placing a pin in the fold of her own arm, letting it setfor a few seconds, and finally slowly yanking it off with a cute frown and yelp.

"Why did you do that?" Iask at such anunexpected move.

Rubbing at the bite with an eye still half closed, she smiles impishly: "I like to know what I'm doing. I enjoy it more, then!"

And after this, hervictim receives clamps in the fold of his knee, along the tender of his inner thighs and _all_around the tip of his penis'head. Which takes some insisting because they tend to slip and drop, there, but the mini-dog is patient and methodic.

Bloojust watches the Pomeranian and playsflicking at the boy'sear clampsand tugging on hislip'sto make him twitch.

--

We soon leave the attraction.

Charlotte's tail is its usual wagging blur and she's in the mood for more fun. "Are there other games like this one?"

"Oh, yes, Pom-pom! Plenty enough to keep you busy until the time of the match. Wanna try a meaner one, maybe?"

"And how!"

"Follow me!"

We walk through a few streets and reach a bigger and noisier crowd. From the hidden show in the circle, we can hear a flurry ofsharp slapping and breathless groans. I don't know if I should be afraid or excited.

Our hyena looks disappointed, however. "Drat... already thismany people? The queue is huge and I don't have the rank to cut it,this time."

Charlotte tilts her head. "How is that? Aren't you the Mudlark'sGrand Mistress?"

"I'mourboss alright, but I'm not recognized as a Granny by the clans."

The Pomeranian has a big pouty frown at this, and I understand it's not because she won't enjoylineprivileges. It is washed away by a sorry face soon: "Awww, my apologies. Silly me, I should have understood when Kura called you Lady."

"Eh, it's not your fault. I'm sorry to tease you with a ride that I can't get you on."

"It is fine! Watching is fun already! I'm enjoying myself and getting loads of ideas for later! Pick me up again, I want to see!"

We all takeposition to discover that new show. As promised, it's meaner: two male hyenas again, naked again, bound hands again. But this time, their wristsare roped together and to a sidewayslog rolled ina thick towel. Theseform "saddles" for their current riders to sit on: a female cheetah for one, and an overweight male labrador for the other.

Each rider has been given a rubber flogger and is lashing at their mount's buttocks --and legs, because their position doesn't helptheir aiming--like there's no tomorrow, while shouting encouragement. The boys are not able to run, however: their penis and balls are connected by a length of Benji rope,and are lewdly stretched in their back as they hunch forward, out of breath and legs shaking, struggling to pull the other and advance.

Ourladies enjoy the show while continuing their casual chat.

"So, 'ideas for later', you said? Do you have plans?"

"Bits of plans, yes! I want to peg a male hyena!"

"That's a good plan."

"And,now, I'll need a mean rubber flogger with some sting like theirs: so I'll make his butt fiery and striped before stuffing it!"

"That's an even better plan."

"And I also loved the muzzles. I want to muzzle him, so he's completely helpless despite his powerful jaw, when I bite his ears!"

"I approve!"

"I'd also like one who is good with his tongue. Hum...are the muzzleseasy to put on and off?"

"Once the straps are adjusted, yes."

"Cool!"

"Say, would a lion do,or does it have to be a hyena? Because I have a boy who likes you, and I can provide the toys you need.If it can help..."

"Ooooh! That is _totally_acceptable! Zaki, was it?"

"Yes. You'll have to wait for this evening, however. Right now, he's helping the other boys to dismantle the camps. If I had known of your plans..."

The cheetah's boy, belly clenched and wincing, finally manages to clamp his teeth at a rope wriggledby a member of the audience. He wins the round, in a thunder of cheeringand applausethat interrupts the chat.The duo hurriedly allowsthe rope to loosen and let their ridersget off. The winning female jumps around and cheers back at the audience, then goes to shake the fat labrador's hand, while thepantingmales are untied.

Once her prize is ready,she claimsit: the losing mount is now standingwith his legs spreadwideand his hands behind his head. I wince at what is coming next but can't stop watching. The clans, I think to myself, really havesomething againstthe males'weak spot!

She takes a step back, aims, and lends a powerful kick right on target. There is a collective, half sympathetic, half amused "oooh!" from the crowd as he collapses whiningand wheezing. And two "fresh" males are brought in,to allowthe"used"ones totake a break.

I'm about to pity them, when I notice how enthusiastically the new ones are coming to get tied, visibly impatient to compete. And howthe hurt one chuckles, despite being curled down and holding his bruised jewels, at something his pal whispered. As incredible as it seems, I think they are all having at least as much fun as their tormentors and watchers!"Wow, are all your males this... enduring?"

"Haha!No, no, pointy. Of course not: they come in a great variety, from the softest to the hardest. And we adjust to the material: we're using some that can take a fair bit of abuse, today, to put on a good show. But don't get the wrong idea: we're not savage monstersand can be gentler with the ones who havelower limits."

Charlotte is growing pensive. She eventually takes a deep breath. "Alright. I will need a shortbreak."

Bloo looks at her apologetically. "Aw, it was too much? I'm sorry..."

"On the contrary, it was awesome! I need to do something I have been delaying... but you just helped pump me up with the right energy to tackle it down."

"Ah, great, then!"

"Can you lead me to a telephone, please?"

--

When we reach the public phone, Umenzi and her pack approach hurriedly. "Miss Charlotte? With all the hyena-chuckling around, among _other_noises, this street doesn't sound like Tapu Beach at all. Maybe it would be wiser to find a phone that'sinsidea building,if you plan to call home."

The Pomeranian nods and smiles. "I'm aware of this. The secret-keeping part of your mission is ending now. And I must say you have been outstanding! But,even with your cunning talents, do not underestimate my father: by the end of this day, he'll call Tapu. And not the fake number you gavehim, one of the tourism office's directors that he's a friend of. I know him well."

"And he knows you welltoo, from what I get. So, you are going to confess to him before your family grows worried?"

"I'm going to confront him! You guys are fission/fusion folks like the hyenas, when you can't stand your alpha anymore, you switch clan. Right?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but, more or less, yes."

"Well, it's different for us. Our packs do not spliteasily: you have to tuck your tail or to confront and beat your alpha. I told you: it's time he acknowledge me as an independent adult. And as we are modern, civilized, canines, it will be a business demonstrationrather than fangs play. I've been planning that for a while."

Our guide winces. "If you fail, youare going to have to come back crawling. I respect your drive and ambition, Madame, but you may want to consider if this plan of yours isn't...a bit daring..."

Suyo is joining us, and he shakes his head to her sister. "You do not get it: it's not a proper fight if she plays it safe, using theprotectionand comfort provided by his resources. It'd still be his victory and control. Isn't it, Madame Charlotte?"

"Exactly! Become able to start my own pack, or come back crawling: there is no way to earn his respect without thesestakes. You understand me! I know I can sound thoughtless, with all my enthusiasm, but this is not a brash move I started without thinking. I am ready to fight."

Suyo closes a fist and slaps it into his other hand. The entire Gwinyai pack imitates him. "Strength in ya fight, M'am. Down that dog!"

We all stay away to allow her some privacy. The call isn't too long, but she shoutsa lot... So,nobody needs to ask how well it went when she returns.

Bloo seems concerned and ponderous for the whole time. When the mini-dog returns, the hyena crouches to be at her level. "So, you cannot afford to lose, Pop-pom. And the Mudlarks'issues add serious risks to your plans..."

Charlotte drills her eyes into the other female's. She's still tightening her fists and full of anger from the call, I never saw her so serious: "If I accepted to sit on my principles and do what the others want, I wouldn't bother sparing with Father. And I am a Tresford! I might be undisciplined, I may look tiny and weak, but I dearly love my family and will not soil their good name!When I make promises, I mean them!So, let this be crystal clear: whatever it costs to me, I am _not_going to sponsor a transphobic male league!"

At last I understand who the Mudlarks are, and what it implies. I would have thought that the kinky hyenas had no such prejudice: itturns out that being very open-minded in some ways doesn't prevent one from being archaic on other fronts.

--

We go for a last game before the match. Something less sexual: there's a street full of papier-mache crafters. Their art is beautiful (if often macabre)! And their show involves three strong males, for once neither naked nor tied up, who offer a striking demonstration of their species'jaw strength.

They have a hugepile of old journals, phone books, and such base material of the local craft.Touristswill take a thick pile of paper and grab firmly, often at two or three, while one of the males bites on the center. Next comes a lot of growling, head shaking dragging the laughing tourists,and _hard_biting... until they manage to slice a huge chunk of their mouthful.

Most of the time, it ends up with the visitorsfalling on their butts and slobber and pieces of torn paper flying everywhere.Very festive and cathartic: exactly what Charlotte needed to pass her nerves and recover asmile.

The Match

The stadium is resonating with supporter chants already, and their fast beating drums are hard to resist: the match isn't started yet that my body wants to hop and kick to the rhythm.

Charlotte is on the edge of exploding. She brought all the different kindsof junkfood from all the criers we met on our way in, and there were many: we have more than her weight in super colored, super fat,and super cheesy food.

We meet Kura, who guides us to our seats --well, benches actually--, and,as a good host,he has brought some more sweets from the other side's criers. I'm impressed to see how he's carrying all this with his handless arm,that is curved in an odd way to squeeze the boxes and bags on his body.Sometimes, heidly useshis chin to steady or tug back the precarious-looking top of the pile.

"Need a hand?" I ask like an idiot, only realizing my poor choice of words oncethey passed my lips.

He laughs. "Thanks, I'm good! But you can grab thisbag," he nuzzles a greasy-looking paper bag with green stripes. "It'sfried andcaramel-coated wormwood, you should like it."

Ido: the strong bitterness of the herb is softened by the frying dough and contrasts with the caramel. It's crusty outside, soft in the middle, and more fibrousin the core, which releases the herbal aroma when bitten.Curveball soon sneaks close to steal some.

Sitting reminds me of my nakedness: the sensation of sun-heated wood under my bare butt is... not familiar to me.

There's a moment of silence as all of us have our mouths full, which I use to look at the field. Black and dark-red, with white and yellow drawings... this looks familiar. I swallowmy mouthful: "Hey, are these carpets? That'swhat you have been doing?"

"Yes!Twolayers of carpets from the mobile camps provided by all the clans. That's the traditional mob field: hard enough to run on, yet soft enough to limit fall injuries. And a temporary manifestation of the clans' friendships."

I manage to refrain an admiring"you're good with your hands" right in time: why, brain? Why? Anyway: "But don't the players risk tripping on the edges?"

"We layer the carpets in quincunx patterns that are stable and reduce the cracks. But it's still a risk, and it's part of the sport. Did Charlotte explain the rules to you?"

"Not really, no."

"Don't worry, there will be commenters, and they break it down for the tourists. Here are the bases: first, only the yellow lines are part of the field's drawing. Other colors are from the carpets' patterns and are meaninglessin the sport. The field is divided into the 'home', that's the circle on this side, and five 'lands', the bands separated by lines.At the opposite end of the home is the goal: you can't miss it,withthe rope between two pillars and the higher ground. There's straw underthese carpets, to cushion the falling balls."

"It's asymmetric, so?"

"Yes, each team attacks at their turn. First, the ball starts at home. The attacking team will try to bring him to the goal, but the defending team will try to tackle himdown. In eithercase, the 'try' ends. There are eight tries per match, no time limit."

"And the ball... tries not to get caught, isthat it?"

"No, each team has their ownball, whoplays when theyattack. The ball tries to reach the goal;for that purpose it can be useful to be caught by an ally. He can run under the rope, that's a 'run' worth one point. Or he can be thrown over the rope, that's a 'flight' worth threepoints. He's not allowed to jump the rope on his own, and the others can't throw him under it, or it counts as a tackle."

"Tackles give points to the other team?"

"No, but they stop the try, and you only get four ones to score so you don't want that. However, when the ball is tackled, next try, hewill begin in the landheended at. That's why you may see the opposite team herdinghim backward rather than tackling, or him dropping down on his own, when cornered, to avoid that."

My mob rugby 101 is interrupted by the commenters taking the speakers.

"Helloooooo,Volkvang!" The crowd screams,and the drums accelerate.

"Ourfirst two teams are arriving, and with thisthe long awaited Grand Brawl Cup is about to begin! What a day for the Seven Daggers!"

"What a day indeed, Edi! This year's athletes are exceptional.I am very excited to see them raaaaaiding furiously!"

"Oh they will, they will!But let me make your mouth salivate: as our first match, we're going to see the girls of Grand Mistress Kills for Fun,versus Grand Mistress Licks your Guts!"Oh! The first one is our friend!

"Both teams have beenunbeatenso far, this season!"

"Indeed, Edi, both are on the peak of their performance. But this is the first match out of many, maybe they'll start easy to save strength for later? Mob Rugby is also an endurance sport!"

"Hahaha, don't be silly, Fisi: these ladies do not even know how to play gently. They have their pride,and theyhunger for abiteateach other. Don't expect a lukewarm match!"

The crowd is getting agitated again.

"Ah, and speaking of the devils! Here they cooooome!"

I look down to see the two teams trottingin the stadiumand waving at the audience, in line, side by side. They only wear spandex mini-shorts and some sparse protective equipment, that looks like those unrealistic bikini armors from cheap fantasycomics...only built from cut tires and black tape. It's odd to see Ki without her hood, even if she drew herself a messy facial cross with lipstick. She and her crew have red circles painted on the chest, their opponents black crosses instead.

The "balls" follow, with similar equipment but fully body-painted: I don't immediately recognize Trickshot with his pompadour flattened under a helmet and electric blue on white checkerboard body. The opposing gazelle is green with yellow dots.

"Granny Ki in red, and Granny Licks in black,as was randomly drawn!"

"Ah, yes, maybe you want to explain the 'first blood, oil money' rule to the newcomers in our audience, Fisi?"

"Oh, certainly: reds --bloods--attack first;blacks --oils--thus get one free point."

"It's the regulatoryhandicap for the starting team, as they get the advantage of one try before being tired by the brawl."

"Oh!but here comes our revered Mother of Mothers,Natural Selection! Please all make silence for the top Dagger's speech."

The stadium goes dead silent,and all hyenas bare their teeth ina weirdsalute. On a podium, a hunched old hyena, most of her fur all gray, walks slowly toward the microphone helped by her staff. Thatstaff ends with a metal hand giving the finger to the world, and the old lady's face is dyed soits left sidelook like a skull. She's wrapped into a gimp-like rubber outfit with a matching, painted, half skeleton pattern.

She reaches the microphone and taps it with her stafffor a test, causing a brief Larsen. Then: "Less talk, more fight." And she hits the ground. The stadium comes back to life and cheers: that was the whole speech.

The commenters resume: "My, my!Mom Natura is always sharp and to the point!"

"And our two teams' Grannies begin their ritual salutations."

On the field's home, Ki and Licks just grabbed at each other by theheadsand are taking turns at shouting at and shaking the other. Well,roaringwould be more accurate;from what I can hear from here, I would have a hard time understanding even if I were nearer and the place werequiet. I'm pretty sure I catch something about "breaking your spine" and "eating your babies", tho.

Their teams, each in a half circle are also shouting and hyena-chuckling. As for the two gazelles, they repeatedly ram toward each other, stopping with a jump right before contact.

Standing quietly in all that fury, an arbiter is just watching. After a moment, he raises a finger and says something... and everybody calms down instantly. The two ladies shake hands,and the teams take position. My friend gazelle is at the center of the "home", leaning forward with his hooves well planted on the carpet; his adversaries will stand between him and the goal, and his allies behind him.

"First try. Trickshot will run. I see that Mistress Laughs in Darkness and Granny Ki seem ready to bodyguard him, and The Decapitations, behind, may be up to no good."

"On the other side, we have the usual halting wall, and the Piece sisters taking position in the back: Lady Piecificator and The Piecemaker are light players but very mobile, they can unleashtrouble on the boy if he passes the wall."

"Yes,_if_he passes."

The arbiter gets out of the way and blows his whistle. Trickshot darts like a bullet, with a sharp sideways motion at the beginning to disorient the wall. "Charge!"

"Ki and Laughs try ramming!" The two are following him screaming their excitement and raising fists.

"The Pieces are moving to second land..."

Suddenly,Trick makes a half turn and runs back between his two bodyguards, narrowly escaping grabby enemy hands. Ki and Laughs punch, are parried, and end ramming shouldersfirst into their foes. They collapse with three of them, opening a hole... but the gazelle is not going there.

The commenters are now almost shouting as well: "He's runningto Deca, why?"

"Lady Bony Crush ran though the hole, they'll try a..."

Decapitationssnatches Trick'shornon the run and, grunting, rotates a full turn to build up and redirect his momentum. Her other hand grabs for his bottom at the end and she throws the gazelle over the wall, toward Bony Crush. Seeing him fly makes me fully realize how weak we are compared to these females, and to imagine him crash makes my heart race.

"Throooow!"

An opposing hyena rams into Bony as she was distracted by preparing for the catch. She opens her arms at her turn, but still has too much momentum and falls as well. Without anyone to receivehim, Trick crashes. His legs hitting her on the way. He rolls and slides awayleaving colorful smears on the ground.

"Fooooul!"

"Ouch!"

Is... Is he hurt? All hyenaslook at the small lying body anxiously. He pushes himself up, shakes ears, and smiles at the duo that missed him with a thumbs up.

"Nice fall, luckily!"

"But that's a rough start for the boy!"

"The arbiter doesn't blame Lady Loves Carnage, sheclearly didnot deliberatelylet him fall,but team Ki gets a foul shot: it looks like thebloodswill already recover their handicap!"

"Let's not speak tooearly: the Piece sisters are well placed. But he'll sure reach land fouror five."

Our team doesn't move, except Deca who walks to Trick and grabs his horn again. The adversaries all move to the sides of the field, leaving a wide opening. The arbiter looks around, then nods. Trick makes a few steps back and the hyena leans and twists backward with him, then, with a snort, she yanks forward as he darts! He's not thrown up, this time, but his acceleration is incredible!

"Brawl!" Behind, the two teams renounced trying to follow and charge each other instead.

The two Pieceswerefar enough to manage to catch him in a pincer. I hold my breath for the incoming tackle, but he zigzags at the last moment and sneaks between them. We gazelles are famously good at zigzagging... but that movement? If I had not witnessed it, I would have said it was physically impossible!

"He's going to score a ruuun!"

Along most of the audience, I can't help standing up and cheering. He can't be stopped anymore!

He stops on his own just one meter away from the line... and runs back?

"Whaaaaa?"

"Deca is rushing again! The boywants to fly!"

"Very brash!"

The sisters attack again.

"Lass Love is coming to close the Pieces' pinchers!"

"But Miss Laughsyis on her tail!"

Both Laughsy and Trickshot make a sudden turn: this was a ruse, he wasn't running for Decapitations and she wasn't after Love. He's thrown again... this time to fall on the soft "mattress" behind the rope.

"Fliiiiiigh!"

"First try, threeto one! What a staaaart!"

"And the bloods scored some good rams as well,theoils may have toswitch a fewplayers'positionsto let them recover!"

In the uncontrolled rush, I threw my bag of sweets right into the back of a dog's head,a few benches below. He turns back to watch me and I stop bouncing on my spot, lowering my ears. He sees that I'm supporting the same team as him and waves his two thumbsupat me... so we resume bouncing and cheering together.

"Try two, Flyball will run for the oils."

"He's a fresh ball and the first try was brutal! The bloods should better not underestimate him if they want to keep their beautifully conquered advantage."

--

"Still a tie at five! What suspense! What a match!"

"And two flights, Edi, two flights!"

"And the ladies are still ferocious, for the match point!"

"Let us all cheer Trickshot, who ends the match here." My friend gets a heartfelt and well-deserved ovation from the whole stadium.

We just finished the seventhtry. All players are panting and frowning in their focus to keep fighting despite the exhaustion.Sweat is matting their fur;the balls' painted ones have their patterns smeared from toomany grabbing and falling.Several have bloody noses or chins and I don't think any of them was spared from a good beating.

It's exhilarating just to watch! I can't imagine Trickshot's stressa few seconds ago:to have those terrifying hyenas gang up on you;to be thrown around;to still have to run like the wind, and remain cunning, as all his team relies on him.

They managed to tackle him only once, on the previoustry, after running him into exhaustion on a long chase. Flyball got hisown first tackle just before, andwill start from the third land.

Ki and the reds also lost aplayer: Bony Crushwasbeen punched hard and was forced to take a break under the doctors' watch. She looks fine--save her frustration to have to sit through the last try--, but isfollowingthe concussion protocols, for safety.Good sports and not wanting an easy victory to spoil their glory, the blacks left one of their players, Piecemaker, outas well.

Oh, and the twofinaltries are on "second breath rule", points counting double to keepthe teamsmotivatedin such difficult times... not that it was needed today!

"Tryeight."

"The bloods' wall is weakened with their heaviestplayer out and Granny Ki pretty battered up at this point."

"True! The oils have a clear advantage for piercing. They discarded their fastest runner, however, so their ball will be more vulnerable to a long chase."

"Granny Licks has flair! But they start close to the goal and only need a run to win, so with this make a diff... Charge!"

The green and yellow gazellestill darts fast and zigzags sharp, closely followed by two determined heavy players.

To my surprise, the "wall" opens itself without being rammed,leaving only Ki and Laughsy, crouchedhands on the ground, to stop theattackers. The remaining of the team starts spreading.

"The bloods try splitting the oils!"

"And are building a spread defense!"

Flyballshifts to pass on their left, with most of hisallies following; a few don'tseehischoice fast enough and are lost on the right.

This is when the two crouched players grab at the carpet in front of them and toss it up as an improvised obstacle!

The gazelle hops over it effortlessly but had a hesitation and was distracted: behind, Bony Crush manages to snatch at hisarm. It goes fast from there: the grab turns into an arm wench,and the hyena gets ahold of her prey's scruff. In a firm motion, but without excessive violence, she pins him face first onto the ground.

"Taaackle!"

"With a cunning move, the bloods conquer a tie!"

"Cunning, but regulatory, Edi! That match was wild from beginning to end!"

"_This_is how we start a Grand Brawl, Fisi!"

The audience is jumping, chanting, and throwing everything they have in every direction. On the field, Ki and Licks grab at eachother in a hugesisterly hug,while Trickshotcomes helping Flybackon his hooves.

"And as per the old rules, 'shedidnot lose, the one whowas not slain':in mob rugby,a tie means that both teams win."

"Leaving both teams _yet_unbeaten!"

You Fight Like a Girl!

As intense as it was, the match didn't last long. Surrender Hope versus End of the Line come next: the short "fights" allow several plays per day.

While the field is cleaned and tidied up, we are joined by the Mudlarks: they didn't find us on time, so they paused--the timeto watch the first contestants--, then resumedtheir search. We were already excited, but having a festive group of hyenasdancing,playing drums,and chuckling in wavesaround us doesn't help to cool down!

Umenzi stopped pouting and is now improvising a chant in some unknown tongue along with Bloo. The two seem to be new best friends! The painted dog has to shout to be heard: "Are the next ones as good as what we saw!?"

"Yes, they're good too! This year's teams are exceptional! This is why this Grand Brawl is special!"

"Peace among the clans allowing new matchups, right!? The good work of Mom and her ladies, I've been told!?"

"Yes! You know the only thing we miss!? A few years ago, some playful teams would play-kidnapaballor two between matches! That was animation!"

"Why not anymore!?"

"Downside of all the diplomacy! We must be careful not to insult anyone!"

"That sucks!"

"Yeah! I would _totally_have kidnapped Trickshotwith my girls! So we'd have had our chance toplay some!"

"You_totally_should!"

"No! Mom Natura would banish our asses even if Granny Ki isn't angry!"

Taking everybody by surprise, Curveball stands up on the bench: "Siiiiilence, please!" The Mudlarks stop for now and look. She takes a deep breath and shakes her ears. "Ah, thank you. Alright, so I have to provide all the brains here? Sheesh!It's right on your noses, I can't take waiting for you to see it anymore!"She points to Umenzi, who tenses. "You first!Express freepsychoanalysis: you freed yourself from tradition, were bitten hard for that, wan butwithout any opportunity tobite back in return. Still super angry: you can't sufferthe ones who are stuck like you used to be," she points to me. "And even less the oneswho look like they freed themselves too easily," she points herself. "And Lass Bloo is just the perfect combination of oppressed and fighting to trigger you like nothing else. Spoiler: when she and Charlotte discuss their options and the clan will make choicesyou won't understand, you'll becomeinsufferable!And hurt a lot."

"Hey, didn't we agree on a non-aggression pact?"

"It's the opposite of aggression, hun, I'm trying to help you. Your pack is tightand isn't afraid of a few punches, are you? Because _now_is your time to meddleand to break my prediction."

Behind, Suyo sneezes. A concert of sneezes from the other brothers follows. I guess it's a painted dog code, because their sister'stension mixes with excitement. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"You'll get it soon. You next!" She turns to Bloo. "I love you: you're kind, you're caring, you fight every day but you pay attention to the others' feelingsdespite almost nobody taking care of yours. You're so strong, Girl! But, sheeeesh, you deserve to be selfish and rude sometimes! You owe it to yourself! And come on: biggest mob event in decades, some possible opponents that won't cause any diplomatic incident," she's showing the dogs, "and there happens to be anon-alignedpointy nearby! That luck won't happen twice! Fuck being nice for today, grabyour opportunity!"

My eyes widen as I understand what is going on.

Sheplaces her hands on my shoulders. "And last, you. Boy: you're not doing bad! You're even doing a lot better than you probably give yourself credit for, trying so many things,so fast,in such a scary environment! I know I'm asking something huge outof you, but I can feel thatyou are ready. And believe me, for I've been there: your first time being huntedby people you trust will snuff a part of your ancestral fears forever. And,today, you could do it for a good cause."

All eyes are suddenly on me. I'm frozen with my mind entirely blank, unable to answer anythingor make any decision.My hand is gently caught, and when I look down, I see Charlotte's white fingersinterwoven with mines. The Pomeranian smiles up to me, full of trust and enthusiasm. My brain resumes working: "I... I'm in."

Bloo and Umenzi exchange a long look and don't have to speak. The hyena starts removing her piercings hurriedly. "You too: piercings and jewelry go off. Same for you, Swara."

Curveball removes my collar while Umenzi and her pack come dropping piercings on the bench.

Bloo stretches and rolls her shoulders, a huge grin on her face. "Okay, dogs, fair warning: we're not going to hold our punches."

"You'd better not! We give you a five seconds lead."

--

Bloo grabs at my horn's root, while unfamiliar hyenas circle me, and she pulls me up with a joyful chuckle. I've seen it done a few times, by now, but receiving it is entirely different: the helpless soaring, your whole spine stretching and your feet dropping and instinctively pedaling in the air when you lose any grounding. That "unf" escaping your lungs and the rush of adrenaline when, suspended high above everyone, you see all heads turning inyour direction and realize that at the end of this suspended second, wilderness will get loose.

The second ends and I "fall", to be caught by a strong arm and squeezed firmly against my kidnapper's fit, hot, body. She yanks on my head to arch me and get my skull stuck against her shoulder, so my horns won't risk putting her eyesout: with my own arms caught I am completely trapped. And she starts running down!

"Raid!" The exclamation is spreading in the crowd like wildfire as we approach the terrace's end. I have a bout of fear at the idea of what would happen if Bloo slipped... but am distracted fromit by the painted dogs starting to bark behind us,and by the sight of two Mudlarks hopping over the railing to drop into the field,six or seven meters below.

We are about to follow! "Stretch and tense, boy!" I obey and am tossed above the railingin a swan dive.It happens too fast and is too unbelievablefor my brain to process terror... or much anything: flight, screams around, relative wind, gentle crash into the arms of the two hyenas below... and the heavier thud behind when Bloo lands. I'm disoriented and just receiving a few intense sensations while losing grasp of the remaining of the word.

The impact making my spine spring yanks me back to reality when Bloo, running, snatches on my hornagain. "Run!" I have no choice but to obey, half dragged, needing to struggle to keep my balance.It's then thatI realize that the crowd is cheering and the commentators speaking: "...an unknown raider and visitor painted dogs."

"They are helping a Pomeranian to get down too, Fisi!"

"And someone prompted me the name of 'Bloody Teeth', Edi!"

"Well,then,Granny Bloo seems to hesitate!"

"Too bad, she built a good advance and thepainted are better at endurance than sprint!"

"She changes direction! She's not going for the exit anymore, but rather for... the goal?"

"Everything goes in a raid!"

"Pom-pom's team noticed and are building a wall!"

I'm learning to pace myself with Bloo's run and to lean on her hand,letting her ensure my balance. We are making one, my light hooves landing together with her thick feet. As she's making a turn, I briefly catch a glimpse of Granny Ki and Trickshot, hurriedly returning from the locker rooms: she misses half her armor and put her hood back; naked,he started wiping his body paint and is still holding a towel.

Bloo growls at the wall,and I refocus on it. We reach the carpets. Their gentle dive makes running harder, somewhat like sand, but gives a great grip. Entering that land of darkness and painted skulls, the sounds of our steps vanishing suddenly, is unreal. The dogs are entranced as well as they charge us: like a genuine, primal, predator assault from my worst nightmares... but I am not afraid. I have support.

I think we redo the hotel's picture with Umenzi, except that Bloo mows her sideways with her palm openinstead of a genuine punch to the face. The bitchstill has a strangled yap and tumbles. Not far, Suyo is rolling on the groundwhile five of his brothers gang on a Mudlark to tackle him down.

"Brawl! Nice piercing attempt, but part of the wall holds!"

"Their messy spreading turns out useful!"

"Aaaand Trickshotjoins in!"

"Followed by Miss Laughsy!"

There are too many barks and growls for me to hear well and I can't see behind, but I think Trick is coming to my rescue and Laughsy is trying to stop him.

"Pom-pom tackles him! Woooohooo!"

"So, who is she playing against, already?"

"I have no clue, but I like her chaotic energy!"

We are zigzagging to dodge dogs,and I completely lose track of my direction. Bloo's brutal motions are nearly tripping me more than once and I'm hot and panting. I didn't realize how fast the sport was draining one's energy. The air is full of the scent of sweat and blood from the previous match.

"Swara! Your neck! Stretch your neck! Elbows close to your body, protect your joints, boy!" That was Laughsy's voice, she's running alongus,fromthe field's side. I obey. Keeping tension on my neck makes my situation even more exhausting, but I feel less abruptly shakenand Bloo seems to gain a better control on our motions.

Umenzi and Suyo are nearing on us, careful to reach from the back, this time,which makes it hard to follow them: I expect to trip ona yankedbackleg at any moment!

"Don't tackle him from behind, he doesn't know how to fall!" This time, it's Ki's voice, coaching the dogs.

That gets a frustrated groan out of Umenzi: "What are we supposed to do, then!?"

"Uh! ...alright! Switch one of your players with me!"

"Mbawa! You're out! Suyo! Follow me, I have a new plan!"

Bloo elbows a new dog out of her way,and I jump over a fallen hyena. I can't freely move my head, so I pay attention to the commenters for cluesabout what's going on.

"...Ki is now on Granny Bloo's tail!"

"While the alpha pair broke the chase and are moving toward the last land. Maybe for an ambush?"

We'll be sandwiched between Ki, Umenzi,and Suyo! We are doomed!

"How about Pom-pom?"

"She's hung at the tail of an attacking player, and dragged, in the back."

"Ah! Well, she _is_slowing him down!"

Bloo's breath is short and heavy, but regular, powerful. Her eyes are moving fast and the top half of her face is stern from her focus but she's adorning a big, happy, smile. Unlike me, she's probably understanding what is going on: I'm still lost, and see a mess of dogs and hyenas running in every direction and crashing one into another... And I'm feeling my physical limits approachingfast: I don't have Trick's training.

She looks down at me... and winks: "Checkmate for us, pointy! I'm going to ram Granny Ki and give you a push in the right direction: run as far as you can!"

Can do! We may be about to lose, but I'm not going down without fighting to the end!

It's very sudden. She plants one foot forward and halts to face Ki... while, in her motion, nearly throwing me forward. I never accelerated like this. I have to bounce on the tip of my hooves to avoid losing my momentum, running straight with total determination. I don't care aboutthe dogs I pass by, who nearly manage to grab me, anymore. Just run. Run. Nearly fly. Keep the right rhythm so my feet don't step on the carpets' edgesand risk tripping.

"Oooooh! It was a solid headbutt managing to halt Granny Ki!"

"Ouch, that returning punch, tho! Granny Bloo is good for the concussion protocolsas well!"

"And the pointy is reaching the last land, running into the alpha pair's pincher!"

I see them coming for me. I don't try a zigzag trick, thinking that my best chance is to use my speed and sneak through the narrowing space between them. It fails. We all collapserouglyand, before I understand what's going on, I'm pined under thetwo, Umenzi holding one of my arms and one of my legs in my backwhile Suyo controls my horns.

"Taaaackle!"

Gasping and wheezing, half of her body having smearsof blue paint, Charlotte arrives next,to drop on top of the pile.

"Hahaha, and re-tackle!"

"Well done, Pom-pom!"

"And well done Granny Bloo! It has been a long while since we enjoyed a good raid!"

The audience is laughing and cheering us. Less pumped up than during the actual match,but still: I never had hundredsof people applauding me. However: "C... can't... breathe..."

"Oh, sorry." The three canines, as drained and satisfied as I am, get off my back. All with dumb smiles, I note, save Suyo who manages to keep a dignified composure but not to control his waggingtail. Trickshot and Flyball are also running to check if I'm good.

I look behind to see Bloo, hoping she isn't too hurt or disappointed.Ki is holding her half knocked out body through her collar,with a triumphantgrin,as the doctors arrive. Despite the situation, the losing hyena isrelaxed and content.

Ki raises her higher to look into her eyes. "I have to give you that, sister: you fight like a girl!"

Suddenly the stadium turnssilent. Seeing the audience's bared teeth, I understand and check the podium. Sure enough, Mom Natura is advancing to the microphone. My ears fold down: as fun as it was, what we just did, barging uninvited on the field, was probably highly illicit.

Once again, she taps the microphone and everyone winces at the Larsen. Then: "That brought me back. Good show." We are even granted an amused smile and a nod. Then, she waves her staff sideways. "Now, scram."

Cheering resumes.

--

I'm sitting in the locker-room, in a quiet and white place between Trickshot and Curveball. I'm so exhausted I'm not sure I could walk, and am glad nobody is trying to speak with me right now: my supportive friends are just there, silently caring.

Speaking of silent: Charlotte screamed so much that she completely lost her voice. Bloo promised to help Umenzi findhoney forherthroat... but some business plans for this eveningwill have to be delayed. I'm confident, however, that this will not be held against her after the good show she provided.

As for myself? I never felt so much achievement after losing a game. I'm also coming to a decision that I never imagined I could consider: I think I'm going to ask Laughsy for her permission to try a mob rugby training session... if it's acceptable for a foreigner like me.

To be continued...