His head was held high, despite his leash in Luca’s hand. He wore the black leather he had worn in the arena, though it had been cleaned and mended, and a tunic of the Volta colors, red and black, clung to his chest. A sword belt hung from his waist. He looks good in my colors. Elma couldn’t help the thought that flitted through her mind, then tamped it down with impatience.
