Thinking quickly, you wrapped your tail around Zarsh’s neck and squeezed. The male let out a choking sound, and you thought you had him. However, he reacted quickly, twisting his head and biting down on your tail, drawing blood. A jolt of sheer agony shot up your spine and you released your grip with a scream. Taking this opportunity, Zarsh tried to throw you to the ground, but your earlier maneuver had slowed his attack down considerably, allowing you to land on your hands and feet rather than flat on your back.
Still, this left you in a vulnerable position, on all fours with him standing behind you. Recovering himself, the male once more grabbed your tail and kicked your legs out from under you before you could rise. Your breasts hit the ground, and dust filled your mouth at the impact. Zarsh laughed. “This fight is mine!”
Giving your tail one more painful yank to drag you closer, he raised his other fist for a downward blow. In desperation, you acted without thinking, your new body’s instincts guiding your movements. Using the muscles in your tail, you jerked the appendage downward. Zarsh maintained his grip, which caused your rear and legs to raise off the ground. Then, you kicked out with both feet. The blow caught Zarsh right in the crotch. Even amidst the din of the surrounding crowd, your ears picked up a soft crunching sound and a resulting gasp.
Immediately, your tail came free, and you scrambled back to your feet, ready to defend yourself against another attack. Whirling around, you instead found Zarsh curled up on the ground, groaning. The onlookers had gone silent, their faces pale with horror. Why were they looking at you like that?
Glancing back down, you noticed a small pool of blood growing around Zarsh. Your eyes darted to your own feet, more specifically your blood-stained talons. “Did…Did I…?”
“Quickly! Get him to the shaman!” Another male commanded as he and several others rushed up and lifted their fallen leader.
Another male, older from the silvered look of his scales, came up to put a hand on your shoulder. Smiling grimly, he shrugged. “Congratulations, sister. You won.”
“I didn’t mean to…to-”
“It happens,” the male said. “A duel wouldn’t be proper without that risk. Still, it’s clear you aren’t trained in customary duels. First thing we learn: Hit with the knuckles and feet, not the claws. The goal is dominance, not bloodshed.”
Nursing your bleeding tail, you asked, “What about biting?”
“That’s no problem. Our teeth aren’t long enough to be life-threatening, at least not with a single bite.”
Turning to watch the crowd carry Zarsh into one of the larger tents, you shivered. “Am I in trouble?”
“Only if he dies.” Seeing your expression, the male lifted his hands. “Oh, that won’t be likely. That wasn’t a mortal wound. And he challenged you first, knowing you are unaccustomed to our ways. This was his recklessness, a good trait for a chieftain but not without risk. Still, this may take a toll on his…um, legacy.”
“Legacy?”
Now, the male stared at his own toes, scratching his head with discomfort. “Well, more like his progeny. Or lack of ‘em, more like.”
“You mean I castrated him!?” You cried out. The cold lump of guilt in your chest now grew into a mountain. Sure, Zarsh had been a condescending jerk who coerced you into becoming his wife, at least in name. However, inflicting permanent mutilation to his body had never been your intention.
“It’s a possibility. But don’t worry. If he can no longer perform as a male, he will simply be taken to the sacred grounds where he will become a female. While he would no longer be able to sire his own young, he will still be able to carry those of another and strengthen our tribe with healthy babies. In fact, since he lost the duel, tradition would usually demand that he be changed anyway, but our village hasn’t really stuck to tradition since Zarsh took charge. It’s really up to his own decision.”
The two of you made your way to join the throng now standing outside the shaman’s tent. You guessed that the shaman acted as the village doctor as well as spiritual advisor. While waiting there, you see many of the other males edging away from you, giving you and your older companion a wide berth. After what they witnessed, it was understandable.
At last, an elderly male sporting a head of colorful feathers sprouting from his scalp, a unique feature from what you could see, emerged from his hut. As one, the crowd leaned forward to hear any news.