Everyone sits assembled in the dueling arena. For generations, the people of this village have settled their disputes in the ancient traditions. No matter how civilized the world beyond had become, the combatants here must wear only the armor of their ancient forebears.
The vixen, Luciana, sits on the bench at the defender’s side. She dresses only in a waistcloth and polishes her sword, determination upon her face. She glances up, scowling when she looks over towards her opponent, the one who challenged her to this duel.
Gill the bat, also in his waistcloth and nothing else checks the sharpness of his blade over his thumb. He catches the glance of the vixen before him. He growls looking at her.
The horn is blown, and the two stand up, walking through the sand to face each other. They grip their swords tightly, sizing up each other—both in the prime of their life.
Luciana points to Gill with her sword, tilting her head back and declaring to him with a bit of pompousnes in her voice. “I implore that you reconsider this foolishness, brother.  You’ll only end up dead if you choose to go through with this battle.”
He does not move from his initial position, and he does not say anything. The silence ripples through the both of them.
She sighs, stepping back and readying her weapon herself. “Very well. Then, you may make the first move, since you are so eager to die.”
Gill rushes forward, swinging and stabbing at his vixen sister. She dodges with ease, the blade shining in the light and her body a blur of motion against his own skilled strikes.
He roars, the pain of all the indignities he had suffered going through his mind. How he had been treated, how she had lorded over him, and now, how she severely outclassed him in this fight.
Seeing an oppening, she slashes, striking at his side. Crimson stains his fur as he hops back, but he jumps back into the fight, and she deflects his blows now, sending him stumbling around like some neophyte schooled by his master.
“You’re pathetic,” she says standing over him while he clutches his side, catching his breath. Blood pours from a wound on his brow, making it hard to see out one of his eyes. “Did you honestly think you could beat me, the champion of our house? Did you think you were somehow superior because you’re a man!?” She tuts at him and brings her blade down. “Last chance for a chance at redemption, Gill. Surrender now. Concede that I am your superior, and I will see to it that you survive this day.”
“F… fuck you…!” he growls, swinging at her with all the remaining might that he has.
She parries it without breaking her stride, leaving him wide open for a follow-up attack. This she takes with a look of stern seriousness upon her face, plunging her sword into his chest.
Gill’s eyes widen, and his body trembles. He exhales a breath of defeat and crashes down onto his knees. He gropes at the blade protuding from his chest, trying to breathe. Tears well up in his eyes, and the words come from his throat in a hoarse whisper. “P… please… sister… mercy… I beg.”
She growls, lifting her bare foot and pressing her pawpads against his cheek, shoving him off of the blade. He falls back, sprawled on the ground, staring nearly blindly at the sky.
Luciania plants the foot upon his stomach now, looming over him with a triumphant look upon her face, staring at his nearly corpse-like gaze.
“I knew you were pathetic, but not this pathetic. A fool to the bitter end. I told you that was your last chance, but did you hate me THAT much?
He tries to say something as blood pours out from his chest and his mouth, but the words could not escape his choking garbles.
She spits, hitting him int he good eye. “Die like a man, you worthless worm.” She grabs her sword and lifts it up high, glancing furtively to the crowd watching the duel. With a final sigh, she stabs the blade true into her brother’s heart.
He lets out one last pathetic gasp before he falls limp under her foot, his body letting out that last, deathly exhale.
She pulls her foot away, walking around the hunk of meat that had been her brother. She lifts her foot, poking him in the cheek with her toe a few times.
“What a loser,” she says, shaking her head. “What…? Did you want to see my tits, is that it? So desperate to get a look at sis’s jugs you’d kill yourself to get a chance to see me naked? Ha, well here’s your chance.” She reaches down, undoing her cloth, and then tossing it over his body. “I hope it was worth it, you perv.”
It is the final rite of the duel, and the ultimate show of disrespect to a fallen opponent. To leave the arena undressed was to be the fully natural self with no inclination towards civility. An animal and a hunter, but mostly, a survivor.
With that, she turns away, walking down with her head held high while the others filed away, disappearing into the night.
Tomorrow, Luciana would continue her life of nobility in the civilized world. But for tonight, she will enjoy the rest of the moonlit night under the cloak of her own fur. Gill, however, only had the rotting carcass and the pool of blood it stews in. If his spirit could watch it, he would be forced to see himself decay, unburied, and unloved, until the worms claim his body.