Bosse: Wild Wolf PackThe World of Gallize Shifters

Bosse heaved for every breath he could grasp.

He watched for the smallest twitch of the wild-eyed tiger shifter also in human form, any telltale aggressive move. From the gritty dirt beneath Bosse’s bare feet to the rusty sheen of death rotting on the stone walls, putrid air clogged his lungs.

Blood ran down his face and stung his eyes. He stood tall though it cost him with his back wrecked by sharp claws.

If he could eat decent food and rest when needed, he’d heal as fast as any other wolf shifter. Maybe faster. Titan had once been unmatched in healing, but his wolf suffered right along with him in this hellhole.

Titan spoke in his mind. Tiger waits for us to attack.

Bosse grunted in agreement.

The one who attacked first exposed a vulnerability, as the tiger had just learned. While moving side-to-side slowly to appear anxious to fight, Bosse noted a muscle pulsing in his thick-bodied opponent’s neck. Tangled dung-colored hair hung in wet strands over his face. Bosse looked no better, and their naked bodies smelled of sweat and grime.

Shifters generally cared more about personal hygiene, but prisoners were not offered baths. Bosse had spent the last two years of his life between this hundred-foot-across circular arena and a twelve-by-twelve cage just tall enough for him to stand upright.

He’d looked forward to the arena today.

To the combat. Nothing else would grind the edge off his constant rage demanding an outlet. The bloodier the better.

If he or his wolf bled too much, the guards would throw buckets of cold water on him to wash away the sickening smell of fresh blood.

A welcomed relief from the grime even if getting a saltwater ice bath required a load of fortitude.

Growls and garbled words fell along with slobber and blood from the tiger shifter’s ripped mouth. He had eighty pounds on Bosse, which was saying something. Being his first day as a castle captive, the had tiger shifter entered the arena in prime shape. 

He now limped.

Bosse gritted his teeth every time he drew a breath and jarred his back, but he snarled and flashed fangs he called up to hide the pain. A lump crusted with dried blood rose from the crown of his head which had bounced off the stone wall circling the arena. He had a new broken rib and warm liquid ran down his back from where the cat had slashed deep grooves.

No big deal. Bosse used claws in his human form too.

“What are you waiting for?” Krol shouted at them from high above where he perched on an obscene gold throne with red velvet padding, acting like a petulant brat being ignored. That crazy lion shifter pretended he was a king and no modern world existed beyond this castle in a remote part of Slovakia.

Krol slammed his fist hard on the throne arm. “Stop wasting my time.”

The tiger shifter lifted his head and roared in response.

Worked for Bosse. He generally ignored Krol.

Inching back the opposite way for the fourth time, Bosse paused when his opponent’s arms dropped to his sides.

Titan kept him informed of their physical stability in any match. We are not healing at all.

They never healed completely, but Bosse needed more strength to return to his upper body. His animal would pass on a bath to eat one decent meal and regenerate, but the ruler of this castle cared nothing about keeping expendable entertainment alive.

Bosse and Titan had lasted far longer than expected.

That only pissed off Krol, who expected his new and healthy shifter prisoners to show off for him by killing Bosse.

Tiger takes too long. We should attack while he is weak, Titan strategized.

Answering silently, Bosse said, The tiger may be playing possum to draw us out.

Titan conceded with one word. Possible.

Constant deep-throated snarling and chuffed breaths on the far side of the arena suppressed the dead silence.

“Shift now! Do something!” Krol yelled, then proving to be the easily distracted idiot he was, he snapped his fingers for wine.

Bosse would not shift until his opponent revealed his animal. It could be one of several different tigers. All dangerous, but some were larger than others.

After the first six months of Bosse winning battles, Krol, had begun putting more effort into finding a shifter that could kill him. The castle king had no idea that his anger only fueled Bosse and Titan’s drive to win. 

What else was left once his freedom had been stripped away than to win every battle?

At this point, winning was more a game than anything. He and his wolf knew one day they’d lose, but not today.

He told himself that every time he was brought to the arena.

Krol disgusted Bosse. What kind of alpha sat in a cushy area protected by guards all the time? He muttered in his head to Titan, A real alpha would jump down here and fight us.

We would kill the pussy, Titan deadpanned.

Bosse smirked at his wolf’s word play on Krol being a lion shifter. They were a well-matched pair. He and his wolf had lasted so long the castle guards had quit wagering on his battles. They’d lost too many personal items by betting against him.

The tiger shifter stopped suddenly, his head whipping around to glower at Bosse. He shouted in a choppy accent, “You think this funny?”

Ah, so this shifter spoke English. Good to know.

Bosse grinned. “Yes. I find you funny. I thought tigers were fierce. I fear I will fall asleep waiting on you to man up.”

That did it.

Loud pops and growling accompanied the tiger emerging.

Krol cheered and pumped his fist. 

Now my turn, Titan said, taking the body fast, which hurt even more than usual. Bosse grumped at Titan, That was a dick move.

Titan laughed, which ended in a loud growl as he rose on all fours with his head down, eyes staring hard at a massive Bengal tiger. We will do flip flop.

Bosse said, The cat may be too fast for it to work.

Titan argued, Cat not that quick.  

Krol called out, “Yes! Now we see who is best.” He clapped madly, acting like a child at his first birthday party. Head shaved on the sides, he wore his light-blond hair long on top, tied in a short ponytail at the crown of his head. Jeweled rings sparkled on his fingers. His eyes had been outlined in black. Whatever ancient Egyptian ruler Krol pretended to be with the blue silk tunic and matching pants had to be cringing in his linen-wrapped body.

Ignoring him, Bosse focused on how to take down over eight-hundred pounds of pissed-off tiger with fully extended claws capable of shredding anything that feline could pin down.

Titan preferred to remain still until attacked. He could wait an hour if that was required to win.

Bosse had done his part by provoking the human part of the shifter. The tiger roared over and over, showing off his short, brutal canines with pressure-sensing nerves. That allowed a natural jungle cat to quickly identify the optimum spot to sever a prey’s neck.

Do not allow the tiger to get behind you, Bosse reminded Titan.

Understood, was all his wolf said. The deeper his wolf got into a battle, the less they communicated.

Without a flicker of warning, the tiger took three fast strides then lunged forward, leaping twenty feet through the air.

Bosse tensed, but Titan held firm.

At the last second, his wolf flopped on his side, rolling away with his legs tucked, and coming up on all four. Pain from gouges in his back blinded Bosse momentarily.

Titan had to feel that just as much, but he showed no weakness, already on the move again.

The tiger hit the ground, legs backpedaling, and paws sliding over the loose ground as he barreled toward the stone wall. A dirt cloud blasted out from his large paws. He spun away from the stone mere inches before slamming into it.

Damn. Had the flip flop worked, it would have ended with the tiger suffering a few broken bones.

Regardless, Bosse would not comment. He admired his wolf’s fighting ways.

Titan didn’t wait for the cat to recover even if there had been a crash. His wolf leaped onto the tiger’s back, clawing deep into thick fur, digging hard as the massive cat wrenched its body and tried to throw him off.

Natural Tundra wolves were large, growing seven feet long. Much bigger than those, Titan had earned his name honestly by growing to nine feet long, not counting his bushy tail.

But their opponent still outweighed Titan by three-hundred pounds of muscle.

Titan’s claws kept digging fast.

The tiger pushed up hard on his hind legs then teetered and fell backward.

Oh, shit!

Titan slid backwards, clawing for purchase, then gave up and pushed to leap away, but not fast enough. A thick golden hindquarter striped in black landed on one of Titan’s rear paws. Bones crunched. The tiger landed in a twisted position. Titan wrenched his body around and locked his jaws high up on the tiger’s rear leg jammed between his body and the wall. Grinding and yanking viciously on the thick leg, Titan did not let up even when he dragged tendons and muscle from the wounded leg.

Unable to twist far enough to reach Titan from the other side, the tiger made an awful high-pitched noise and tried to push up and get away.

Weight on Titan’s leg eased.

He unlocked his jaws and scuffled to the far wall. Bosse saw stars as agony rushed through his wolf’s body.

Unable to do more than suffer with his wolf, Bosse kept quiet. Never distract the one fighting.

Titan rose to stand again. Bosse’s head spun. That crushed paw felt useless. Titan couldn’t walk without limping so he stood very still, snarling a threatening sound that would raise goose bumps on the dead. 

Blood soaked through the tiger’s striped fur and dripped into a puddle beneath him. His back leg hung unnaturally.

Titan had managed to rip significant tendons.

Even though the cat still had three powerful limbs, his bright blue eyes changed from animal to a deeper human color filled with pain and sadness.

Such a shame. The tiger had wanted to live. He’d been captured and forced to fight, but so had Bosse and Titan. 

Only one of them could survive.

Keeping the crushed paw still, Titan scratched the dirt with his opposite front paw and snarled nonstop. Blood ran warm down from Titan’s back. Time was not on their side. They could not drag out this battle.

He lifted his wolf head and howled, a blatant sound of victory.

Hate replaced sadness in the blue eyes of their opponent. The tiger began to stalk. Unable to lift his damaged leg, he hobbled sideways. Slow, deliberate moves.

Bosse hadn’t planned on that tiger still being mobile. Can you move, Titan?

Only once. I will wait for the best chance.

That didn’t sound good.

Titan’s head turned slowly as he tracked the tiger while remaining still. When the large cat paused as if he were about to leap, muscles along Titan’s body tensed.

The tiger couldn’t jump without two functioning back legs. Instead, he rushed forward on an uneven gait, jaws wide open to rip a good bite out of Titan.

In a move that Bosse didn’t expect to survive, Titan twisted his body and rolled over on his back as if submitting. Legs folded and head pointed toward the tiger.

Krol yelled a gleeful shout wrapped in relief. “You lose, you miserable dog! You lose!”

Always on alert to follow Krol’s lead, the guards erupted in matching shouts.

Inertia from the tiger’s huge body already in motion prevented him from stopping quickly to attack the prone wolf.

Even so, the tiger had only to drop his entire body once he could stop and crush Titan.

Before the tiger grasped the advantage, Titan went into full attack mode.

He lunged up to latch onto the tiger’s throat, clamping his jaws hard as his body got yanked around. Adrenaline overrode Titan’s pain from his paw, ribs, and back. He shook his head back and forth in a rabid motion. His claws dug rapidly, mutilating skin protecting the tiger’s throat. Bloody parts dangled free.

All that happened in the second it took for the tiger to arch up, snarling and slapping his paws at Titan to get away from the attack.

Running out of energy, Titan made one more desperate attempt to reach the tiger’s vertebrae but failed.

With one mighty lunge, the tiger wrenched up again, straining to escape, then as if the thread holding him together snapped, eight hundred pounds fell toward Titan in slow motion.