Corpe and Bloor

On the rural islands of Corpe and Bloor the annual Fight Week is about to begin in which champions are chosen and lives changed forever. The Fight is between a champion from Corpe and a champion from Bloor. Girls are chosen as prizes for the man who is crowned the winner of the Fight. Faith Rathbone is the unwilling prize of Corpe and the life she had always known is tipped upside down in the form of Alec McFadden, the champion of Bloor. She must decide if she can begin to hope for a life on Bloor but leave her family behind. But her fate is not her own.

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7. Five - Alec

          I’m in the ring, adrenalin pumping through my muscles as I realise that this is the moment that I’ve been waiting for.
          Lukewaden has never been one of my top-ten favourite people, for he dislikes me because of whom my father is, not anything that I have personally done. And there was something about my brother having a bit of an affair with his younger sister at some point a while back, so he has never been warm to me. In school, that has suited me just fine, but now, in the ring, I can tell how much he wants to do my face in. It only fuels for my own adrenalin and I raise my fists, preparing to fight.
          Lukewaden steps lightly from foot to foot, stepping to my left and I follow him, not letting him hit me on my stomach. Even though I have trained every single day for the past two years at bare-knuckle boxing, my weak spot is definitely my stomach. He goes for a left hook which I see coming and dodge, managing to hit Lukewaden on the left side of his chest. It winds him and he staggers back a little, but that’s all I need to hit him once again on the same side and then on his right shoulder, missing his face by millimetres. I’ve practically won the fight, but I will not let my guard down for a second, and quite rightly too, for Lukewaden comes back and uses the last of his strength to hit me in the left shoulder. I bit back against the pain and hit him in the stomach again, where he keels over and falls flat on the floor, in too much pain to get up
          I am about to be called the champion, as it is quite clear that Lukewaden isn’t getting up any time soon, a young lad comes running down the cellar stairs, out of breath and panting so much that he can hardly get the words out. But he does, and I suddenly wish that I hadn’t heard him.
          “Our prize has been selected. Miss Phoebe McFadden.”
          My blood runs cold. Oh please, God, not her.

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