No rest for the weary. Or the wicked.
A few matchups take place. Competition gets knocked out. Ophion and Zuba dispatch their challengers handily, without even breaking a sweat. That's good, I suppose. Better the devil you know, and all that. We can face them later.
I trot over to Lightning's box in the stands, because I'm allowed. The buzzer signals a five-minute break between rounds. Kaline shouts at me not to be long, that my name could get called next. With all love and respect, I only half listen to her. I have to feel Lightning's fur against mine and the cubs' kisses on my face.
Maartenwitz is right there to escort me up to the box, and I get a whiff of approval from him. "Be quick about it," he warns.
Once Lightning's welcoming face comes into view, I just can't focus on anything else. Then the cubs slowly stand up. [Papa!]
Their tongues are like sandpaper, but I don't care. They feel like silk to me before long, any they bathe me in their love.
