The Gladiator

A sweet smell: summer grass carried by a gentle breeze. It wasn’t so much a memory but a strong sense tied to one. A sense that carried with it warmth, freedom, and safety.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Leve awakens from a deep sleep, stirred by rustling from within the pen next to his. He hears heavy snorts, manic breathing; something wild in the darkness. He smells fear. Through narrow slats in the wood an eyeball appears, it darts around searching desperately and then locks onto his own. For a moment, the beast next door is still, they stare at each other. Their noses touch between the pine, a welcome sensation. Leve breathes in the scent of something strong, fierce; a wild energy that he innately knows he cannot match. The neighbor does the same, breathing him in, his eyeball still unmoving. Something outside of the encompassing wood makes a constant chattering noise like thousands of swarming bugs.

The darkness between them is interrupted, a wall of light springs forth blinding them both, the scent of blood fills the rooms. The sound of the swarming bugs grows exponentially into a roar. Leve’s neighbor once again returns to their energized state, bouncing between the walls and ramming it’s horns into the enclosure; he is covered in golden light and he escapes forward, out of the pen.

Leve watches through small openings as his once-neighbor trots freely inside a circle of dust. The bugs roar louder. More creatures appear. Through shadow and slants of light he sees movement, hears screeching, and smells more blood. First, he smells the inside of some other animal, then he smells the pain of his once-neighbor. The bugs cheer again. Powerful hooves pound by his pen. They lock eyes again, briefly. Something is sticking out of his back.

Another creature has appeared outside, he cannot see it but his nostrils inhale something foreign, unnatural.

There is more motion. More noises from the bugs. More sweat and blood from his brief companion.

The powerful hooves once more pass by the open pen, instead of locked eyes Leve sees a mass of dripping liquid and a missing eye. He listens as the hooves carry on, charging again toward the unnatural smell. And then, a horrid belch that shakes Leve. He can smell the inside of his once powerful neighbor. The bugs roar louder than ever before.

Leve is quaking now, bouncing between the enclosure around him. Death fills the little space.

Another blinding light, this time his pen is open. Leve darts out into the area, hoping to escape. He dashes as fast as he can, only to find a wall of stone in every direction. He keeps running. All around him there is yelling and jittering things high above. The bugs sound different out here, their saliva carries on the wind down to rest on his fur. So many scents.

Something is suddenly running beside him, another creature looking at him with panicked eyes. A piercing pain sticks into Leve’s back, lodged into bone. Hot air blows from him and he yelps.

The creature next to him peels off, leaving him alone. Leve continues his dash around the perimeter of the arena, searching for a hole, an escape. He passes his former pen which is now mostly blocked, it flashes by in an instant.

From behind he hears familiar trotting. He turns to see the panicked animal from before gaining on him, something on its back carries a pointed stick, thin bands of color waver from it.

Closer. Closer. The panicked eyes approach again.

Leve had always been small. Smaller than most of his kind. He never had the strength to match others but he always escaped from them. He didn’t win his fights but he never died either.

Tha-bump, tha-bump, tha-bump.

The animal’s long legs are nearly on him.

Leve does what he’s always done and tries to escape. Sharply, he pivots to the right, throwing his rump against the animal’s legs and turning around the opposite direction he was going, his hooves sliding across the dust. The oncoming beast falters, tripping to the ground. Whatever was on its back shrieks. Something breaks.

The bugs above him go silent. He trots away from the crash, away from whatever it was on top of that animal. Frantically, he searches the area, staying close to the wall, watching; warm liquid dribbles down his back.

After a brief respite, the bugs begin making noise again, banging their palms together. They drag the yelling thing out from under the now not moving animal. They drag them away into the stone wall and disappear.

Leve continues running, searching the walls for a way out. Nothing.

Something appears across from him. A small creature with a weak and unnatural scent. It stares at him, something shiny in its hand. It moves quickly, producing a large flapping object. Back-and-forth it goes, back-and-forth.

Leve kicks once forward and then to his rear. Watching this flapping thing. The movement is threatening, unnerving. Fear is in him so he charges forward to silence it. A small pair of horns lower and the thing disappears, moves around him like the wind. The bugs cheer loudly.

He is on the other side of the creature, again it flaps to him. Again, he watches. Threatened, frightened, he charges again. This time, as the wavering thing disappears he sees the shiny object from before, it swings past, burning pain rips through his side. The bugs cheer loudly.

Again, and again he charges. The shiny object appears each time slicing into him. Every time noise swells from above, each attempting attack he makes is weaker than the last, slower than before. With his energy waning, he tries another escape, away from this unnaturally smelling creature. He runs to the wall, in smaller circles, his own blood filling his nostrils.

The creature follows, stalking him slowly. After a half-lap around it turns, trying to anticipate Leve’s movement and blocks his path. Leve rounds the bend, the flapping tendril waiting for him again.

A warm gust of air blows through the coliseum. For an instant, the glittering blade that has taken so much blood from him appears from beneath the fluttering cape. His head turns away from the red flag and to the blade.

The unnaturally smelling creature’s eyes go wide, it jumps to the side, back hugging the wall. Leve passes, his horns clash into metal, he hears crunching bone. The blade spins into the blue sky and clatters onto the dust. He pivots sharply like before and spins around, kicking a column of dust into the air. He stares at the creature, rage boiling from depths of his guts. It looks back at Leve, the scent of urine appears in the air. He charges again. The unnatural thing clambers up the wall, its dangling legs now the only thing visible.

Leve stops at the wall and bucks his head, unable to reach his opponent. He turns to see no one else around him. Alone in the arena, only dust and blood.

A cacophony of palms banging together rain down from above.

Leve continues running, looking for an escape.

Days later, in darkness again, Leve waits. The floor beneath him hums and bumps, his back and haunches ache. After hours of interrupted sleep, the humming stops. Another blinding flash of light washes over him. But instead of dust, there is greenery. Instead of blood, he smells sweet, dew-filled grass. Trees and hills stretch beneath a blue sky.

A familiar voice tugs at a rope attached to his neck. "Vamanos, Leve."

Warm sunlight greets him, long grass caresses his belly as he gallops away, a newly acquired limp from the pain in his side. A gentle breeze blows through blood-matted fur.