First Stomp

A sudden jolt fired through my boots! My legs weren't frozen anymore. I planted one foot forward with a sharp stomp, testing the spring of the canvas beneath me. Across from me stood a masked opponent in red, completely still. I rolled my shoulders inside my patterned vest and gripped the tight red top rope behind me with one hand. The tension twanged against my palm—real, solid, and ready. I squared up, grinning right into the center of the ring. Game on.