From the Ashes

Before I can throw myself at Roman and kiss that wonderful boy's face, his name is called for our match. He bends for a quick kiss before taking my hand and shoving a way through the crowd towards the mat. Once the mass becomes aware of our presence, they part like elevator doors at our approach. Roman still leads me by the hand, though.

We enter the mat and head for our corner, where the towels and water bottles are, and the crowd starts to cheer once we do. The announcer introduces the warriors overtop the noise.

"In this next round, we have Roman, The Phoenix, against Joshua, The Bludgeon!" The crowd roars, and I pause between my encouraging words to peer past Roman's shoulder and size up his opponent. I give a slow whistle.

This kid's nothing to wave off as no big deal. He's one of the older ones, lean and fit. He looks like a good match for Roman. My Phoenix looks down at me after he follows my gaze, and watches my reaction with a steady smile. I look up at him silently, placing my arm diagonally across his chest to grasp his shoulder.

"Kill him," I command, giving him a fierce smile. His smoky eyes never leave mine as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. Roman pulls it off, tossing it in our corner to continue to gaze steadily at me. A collective hush gathers over the throngs of kids directly next to the mat, rippling and spreading over the crowd to the edges of The Gazebo.

Scar?

What the hell is that?

No, look at his back!

Scar.

My ears pick up the whispers, and I clench my jaw. Resisting the fiery urge to glare sheer death at the gaping faces behind him, I hold Roman's look.

"From the ashes, my Phoenix," I say softly to him, only him. Adoration fills his eyes before his look morphs into a warrior's gaze. He turns away from me to give a look to the silenced ref, then to The Bludgeon. The hushed whispers spread behind me. The paint covering his back comes alive in the flickering glare from the torches, the light dancing in a tribal way across the painted ridges and marred skin. Joshua slams his fists together, cracking his neck with audible pops. He growls impatiently at the ref, who regains his composure and gives the whistle a blast.

The roar of the crowd is deafening when Joshua charges at Roman. I suppress a shout as Roman barely dodges it, and I see The Bludgeon sneer something to him. Fury alights in my stomach, traveling up to my heart as I add my voice to the crowd. The warriors stalk each other with measured steps briefly before Roman goes for a hit this time. Joshua ducks, lashes, and Roman takes a hit to the side. I scream for him to move, keep going, hit that son-of-a-bitch. And to my delight, he does. Right in the jaw with an up-thrusted elbow, after Joshua swings and misses. The crowd is in stages of delirium as Roman backs off to avoid a retaliating swipe. Joshua spits blood fiercely onto the mat as they circle each other again. I can see The Bludgeon's pillar, worried and brandishing a towel in the other corner.

The match continues with the same kind of excitement, both warriors landing and taking well-timed hits. The crowd eats up every blow, and I cheer for my Phoenix savagely from my corner. Roman's face glistens with sweat, and his shaggy dark hair clings to his skin. I kick myself over and over, wishing I had brought something, anything, to keep it out of his eyes. I'm pretty sure that's one of the reasons he's been taking a lot of these blows.

Sweat glitters on his bare torso and back in the torchlight, and the paint is starting to crack and run. His scar looks fearsome that way.

In an unpredicted flash, Joshua shoots low for Roman's legs, taking him down. I clap my hands over my mouth as the crowd gives a deafening roar, and the two warriors scrabble on the mat. They move quickly and fiercely, tearing to get the other down on his back. A different tone spreads through the crowd suddenly, screams and ragged shouts tearing through the air. My breath catches, my heart stops, and a scream of my own threatens to rip from my lungs as blood is suddenly everywhere.

It's splattered across the mat, staining their clothes and bare skin as both warriors continue to roll in it. I scream death threats at the ref as he fails to stop the match with just his whistle.

Joshua gets Roman down on his stomach, wrenching his arm painfully behind his back as he tries to flip him over. And that's all I need.

With the ref still waving and blasting his whistle furiously, and with all the fury of hell's rage inside me, I dive at the warriors. I throw all of my weight into my elbow, which connects with Joshua's side. The sharp jab knocks the breath out of him as we both topple to the side of Roman. I snarl as I detangle myself from a gasping Joshua, and the crowd holds a collective breath. I scramble to Roman's form, shaking as I help him flip over.

"Roman!" I cry, my voice ringing through the silence in a breathless gasp. He coughs as he turns over onto his back, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths. Blood covers his face, smeared over all of his mouth and spattered to mix with sweat across his chest. Sage breaks through the line of hushed teens to slip and scramble on the slick mat, just as I get Roman's head onto my lap. Sage falls to his knees beside us, blood soaking into his jeans.

"Rome, can you hear us? Are you conscious?" he says in a clear, loud voice. It's edged with concern. Roman gives a heaving breath from an open mouth, raising his hand briefly in an acknowledging wave.

"Towels, Sage," I instruct in a quaking voice, smoothing Roman's sweat-soaked hair out of his face as Sage complies.

Broken nose? Split lip?

I hear Joshua groan behind me as I cradle Roman's head, stroking his hair and inspecting him wildly with my eyes.

Why the hell is there so much blood?

Sage returns with towels, and I glance up to see Mazie and Bennen standing on the edge of the mat. Roman's rattling gasps of pain fill my ears. And then I see it.

Two raw scrapes of gaping flesh glisten where his snakebites hang precariously loose, and blood still flows freely.

"His piercings are ripped," I say, my voice low and shaky. Sage curses.

"Clean him up. It'll hurt, but just press a cloth on there and staunch the flow. Raise his head up, elevate it." I do as I'm instructed, my heart twisting painfully when Roman winces and gasps at the contact from the cloth on his bottom lip. I give a soothing shhh, and Sage helps pull Roman up against me. I hold him up, his head resting back on my shoulder and his sweaty, paint-smeared back pressed against my front. I wrap my arm across his chest, grasping his shoulder as I use my other hand to keep the cloth against his lip. Involuntarily, I rock him slowly back and forth, my cheek pressed against the side of his face. His sweat dampens my bangs as I whisper gentle, loving words into his ear.

The ref gives Sage those tiny strips of adhesive bandages, the ones used to hold cuts together, and Mazie brings water to wet the cloths with and start cleaning the excess blood off of Roman. The flow of blood stops eventually, and I swear he looks even paler than normal. We get those bandages situated carefully on his bottom lip on both sides, using them to pull the torn skin together momentarily. But it will definitely need some medical attention.

Bennen comes in when we deem it fit to move Roman off the mat, and he protests silently. He accepts the help though, after he gets up, totters, and falls into Sage anyway. I'm surprised, but grateful, when Wim joins the party from the crowd to help carry Roman back to his truck.

Sage drives while I hold Roman beside him, Wim in the back seat to be there for assistance. Mazie and Bennen wish us well before we leave, them heading to our cabins to let Roman and Sage's family know what happened, and where we're going. We drive in the opposite direction, towards the highway and the hospital beyond.