Annora And Elowe-Personal Narrative

Sterling Wolfe sat on the ledge of Desolation Penitentiary’s rooftop, the body of inmate 194 lying bent and broken fifty feet below. Behind him, the Auli sisters were rolling around on the flat concrete and throwing punches, egged on by a ring of cheering inmates in grey uniforms. Not that Annora and Elowen needed much encouragement to finish a fight once one had started.
The ring of inmates parted just in time for Annora, the older of the Auli sisters, to toss Elowen through the gap, sending her crashing into the ledge. Elowen scrambled to her bare feet and wiped blood from her upper lip. Her teeth, crooked and yellow and chipped, were bared in an animalistic grin. She launched herself at her sister, knocking the older woman to the ground.
Blood sprinkled the tan concrete and a stray tooth skittered away from the fight. Grunts

Without the other, they would have no one to argue with; no one to pound into a bloody pulp—not fairly, anyway; no one to keep the boring sameness of Desolation away.
Leaning forward, Sterling eyed the camp that was set up well over a hundred miles away, made visible only by the flatness of the desert and the height of the prison. There were several neat rows of small, grey tents; a large medical tent; three black, armored vehicles that looked like high-tech beetles from afar; and a green wyvern that would occasionally let out loud, echoing roars in the middle of the night. Roughly twenty soldiers milled around outside, working on whatever it was that they did when they weren’t here—practicing torture, fangirling over the King, going over war strategies, et cetera.
Halfway across the rooftop, the Auli fight was beginning to wind down. Elowen, face bloody, bruised, and swollen, had Annora pinned to the ground with her arm twisted behind her back. The blonde strongarm was struggling against the hold, seeming not to care how far back her arm was bent.
It wouldn’t be Annora’s first broken