The track stretched wide and long, lined with obstacles—barrels, wooden hurdles, pits of sand, even narrow water trenches. I had heard from Rachel that there were mines too, and from the grim looks of some riders, I knew it wasn't a rumor.
There were also whispers of nails hidden in the dirt that would spring up without warning, shredding hooves and spilling riders onto the cruel ground. Blood was expected here; death was a spectator's entertainment. They called it a race, but everyone knew it was war disguised as sport.
Hail the three bloody Lycans. They really had learnt from their father, and had even become worse.
War chants rose from the stands, hundreds of voices thundering as one, shaking the air with anticipation, enlightening the contestants that we didn't come here for a mere race.
