Tristan
Tristan stood firmly in a warrior position, deep in thought. It didn't take long after a shower to feel the need to work his body. He had been led to a small cabin just outside the fighting ring they had permanently set up outside. The ring itself was built on a large, ten-foot square slab of stone with stretched cloth over the top of it. On each side was a small hut for each competitor to train in and prepare for their match. It was mostly bare, but for a cot and fireplace, and he had spent the last couple of hours getting his mind and body ready. His muscles were warm, and he was trying very hard not to overwork them.
He needed to pound something. He needed to kick something. He needed to fight. He needed to get these feelings out of him. He knew Celia wasn't his mate and so
