Lycanthropy

So, I'm here, twenty-four, trained by my father to be a warrior, only to be locked up from my sixteenth birthday, to be used in an arena. Joy oh joy.

The bell had rung, and the man in front of me was checking me from top to bottom, whistling at my appearance.
"How could this puny girl, beat me? Is that something that you are wondering?" I asked him.
"Or are you actually afraid, that you can't kill me? Nahh... you can't be that smart, right?" I continued.

He raised a brow and suddenly laughed. Okay, he is one of the stupid ones, I guess. All buffed up, thinking he could snap my neck in half, in just two seconds.

Maybe I should let him.