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The roar of the crowd had almost faded into the background, but the introduction of the next beast caused them to begin taunting again in anticipation of the damnatio ad bestias.
Four times the gates rose, and four times the beasts fell. Now, however, the spear lay shattered upon the ground.
Eyes up. Fists up. Face death on your feet this time.
The gate rises. Out it comes, prowling. Eyes meet.
Contact.
An expanding of perceptions, new scents fill the air: old leather and fresh earth. Her: blooded steel and animal musk.
But the Mojave would know her as Ria.