by Lori R. Lopez
I sharpen my claws for the kill. It is all I know. I was bred for this battle, this competition. For the chance to be uncaged in the arena, springing to the center amidst cheers. This will decide my fate, after languishing years in a prison of cement. I am free, for one glorious moment, to confront a foe I have never met, yet there is intense rancor between us. Mortal enemies, raised for a brutal end. What else is a monster good for? They manage us in chains, mutate us through experimentation. Sometimes I think they are the beasts.
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