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Personal Narrative-Werewolf Fighting

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Annabelle looked at the band of musical robots, then focused on the leader. “You say you know a werewolf who could lead us too the girl. Where is this wolf?” “A place not suited for ladies, Miss,” his voice clunked out while he stood. A light in the vanity buzzed, and another band member in the back sat on a stool and plugged himself into the wall before laying back, still, as if sleeping. “Good thing I am no lady, then. Lead the way, sir!” Neither Annabelle or Warren had ever been to a dog fight. That included both the original sort - the kind with rabid mutts on chains, snarling and biting at each other while men swilled cheap alcohol and tossed money from hand to hand - and the new sort. The werewolf sort. Werewolf fighting was considered a slanderous sport. Most people thought it kin to slavery, long abolished in the good Empire, with a good deal werewolves forced to fight much like the average dog. Some did it willfully, knowing there was good money to be made pinning a fellow wolf to the ground or, in worst cases, killing them. Others were young or gullible wolves swept from the streets and shoved into the pit every day, corralled by silver bars and walls, then herded back with silver tipped sticks. …show more content…

Seats spanned downwards from where one entered about fifty feet, stopping at the silver railing that circled the pit. The pit itself was no shallow thing, Annabelle estimated about fifteen feet deep, and with a circumference somewhere in the

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