The Mating Run by Leeka

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9 67%

The trees, with their spindly trunks, provide little cover. As I walk, the sound of my
footsteps is muf fled by the layer of dry leaves on the ground, hindering my ability
to track others who might lead me to a source of food. I'm still making my way
downhill, descending into a forest that stretches out endlessly. Armed with my
trusty knife, I set to work on the tree, meticulously slicing off the outer bark and
gathering a substantial amount of the smooth inner bark.

“Bleh, this shi t tastes disgusting.”

I let out an annoyed hiss, forcefully spitting the bark out of my mouth and hastily
wiping my tongue with the sleeve of my tracksuit. I've seen some of the
survivalists on reality TV desperately munching on tree bark to suppress their
hunger, but they never raved about its flavor.

“Da mn, that's nasty. Why the heck did I do that?"

Ignoring my rumbling stomach, I continue my search, determined to find
something. I've stumbled upon a minimum of two bags, but the majority of them
had already been ransacked. Thankfully, the staff of the Mating Run discreetly
disposed of the bodies. Despite everything, I could still make out the dent they
had made on the ground and the fresh blood splatters. As I think about it, a
shiver runs up my spine, making me uneasy, and I quickly try to find a distraction.
I've done the usual morning jogs with Ettie, but I've never really felt the
wilderness surrounding me like this. According to the High Council Elders and the
Alpha, participating in the annual Mating Run is an experience like no other. And
I've always believed it, because really, I never considered the possible
consequences.

In the Mating Run, every step forward holds the promise of a reward.

New experiences. New fame. New mate.

At the Mating Run, you can expect nothing but goodness.

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It was no secret to me that there were some sinister secrets lurking behind the
Mating Run. The undeniable truth is right in front of me, and it would be a shame
to deny it, considering I'm living it. But still, everyone holds it with high regard,
perhaps due to tradition, but truly, I believe it's because everyone has a slight
thirst for blood every now and then.

The rumbling in my stomach grows louder, reverberating through the quiet forest,
a hungry symphony that would not go unnoticed by anyone nearby.

“Seriously, stomach, you're driving me crazy. I'm working on it!"

I mutter under my breath, my hand instinctively going to my belly, trying to soothe
its complaints. The reality of my situation is hard to ignore I'm in the middle of a
dense forest, where the air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and decaying
bodies. I can’t help but recognize the irony of my predicament. Being the one
hunted, I now find myself in the role of the predator, scanning the surroundings
fora

meal.

A determined grimace settles on my face as I men tally prepare myself.

“Pull yourself together, Alina. You've dealt with worse than being hungry.”

I cling to the words like a mantra, desperately trying to divert my thoughts from
the looming fear.

Each step I take on the forest floor is a delicate dance on a mosaic of leaves and
twigs, carefully navigating the uneven terrain. With my eyes, I carefully survey
the surroundings, desperately searching for any indication of edible vegetation.
“There's gotta be something around here. Berries, nuts, or... I don’t know, a
magical pizza tree?”

As I weave through the trees, the growls of my hunger become an unwavering
soundtrack, fueling my determination.

As I walk through the forest, the sunlight filters through the dense canopy,
creating a beautiful dappled effect on the ground. In one of these patches of light,
I spot it — a backpack hanging from a low branch, swaying gently in the breeze
like a

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Wed, 6 Mar —

mischievous prank by Mother Nature herself.

The corners of my lips curl up into a playful grin, impossible to contain.
“Jackpot,” I whisper to myself, my eyes narrowing as I assess the height of the
branch, my fingers tingling with anticipation. Although I'm not skilled at climbing
trees, desperation empowers me to muster the courage to give it a try. “My
hunger. might make me do some amazing things.”

approach the tree, studying it with the intensity of a determined squirrel eyeing
the highest branch of the nut-bearing oak. As I take a deep breath, my ascent
begins, my fingertips seeking traction on the rugged bark.

“Just like climbing the corporate ladder, Alina. One branch at a time,”

1 quip, my own joke earning a small chuckle that escapes my lips. I extend my
arm confidently, grabbing the backpack that is conveniently within reach, and
flash a triumphant grin.

“What do we have here?”

I eagerly murmur, unzipping it with anticipation, eager to see what's inside. The
contents of the bag were an interesting mix — a crunchy granola bar and a tin of
beans. My heart pounds in my chest as I hastily reach for the granola bar, tearing
open the wrapper and taking a big bite. Zeke can have the beans; I never cared
for their taste.

A contented moan escapes my lips, and I quickly stifle it, pressing against the
tree to relish the flavor.

Like a snack-seeking ninja, I sit on the branch, concealed by the rustling leaves,
and open the granola bar wider with a mischievous smile. The crinkling of the
wrapper drowns out the soft whispers of the forest, but I am unfazed. A delicious
smell of oats and honey hangs in the air, making my stomach betray me with
hunger.

“Sorry, stomach, we can't rush perfection,” Breaking off a piece, I savor the sweet
flavor, letting it melt on my tongue. With each bite of the granola, a whirlwind

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of flavors dances on the taste buds, providing a momentary escape from the
hardships of the wilderness. “Who knew a tree-climbing escapade could lead to
such gourmet dining?”

Perched in my leafy sanctuary, I observe the sprawling forest beneath me, its
follage acting as a protective barrier. Being hidden, even if just for a moment, fills.
me with a whimsical sense of safety, like being wrapped in a cozy blanket.
Taking a moment for myself, I lean back against the tree trunk, letting the solitude
wash over me. Each bite of the granola bar becomes a flavorful journey, a small
celebration of rainco

My mind wanders back to the chaos of the Mating Run as I take small bites.
Once a battleground for desperate contenders, the forest below has transformed
into a serene sanctuary.

“This is definitely not what I signed up for,” My thoughts spill out, spoken aloud.
as if the trees are my trusted listeners. “I thought it'd be a jog in the park, not al
survivalist nightmare.”

I am struck by the contrast — perched in a tree, munching on a granola bar, while
the vibrant Mating Run unfolds beneath me.

“I mean, who plans these things? “Let's throw a bunch of people in a forest, see
who survives, and maybe they'll find love along the way.” Romantic, isn't it?"

I couldn't help but smirk and shake my head at the completely ridiculous premise.
I know there might be cameras trained on me, capturing every word I say, and
there might already be critics ready to pounce on my every statement, but I can’t
hold back.

“Maybe there's more to this than meets the eye,” I muse, my tone

contemplative. “Surviving, discovering, finding unexpected snacks in trees — It's
like a twisted version of self-discovery.”

With a satisfied sigh, I finish the granola bar and gather my belongings, preparing
to leave my leafy refuge.

ll

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wed, 6 M

“Alright, Mr. Tree, you've been a good host, but duty calls.”

I announce to the branches, their leaves rustling in response, as if they've been
my companions all along.

With a final glance at the lush forest below, I am just about to descend the tree.
when a faint rustling catches my attention. The air is filled with a cacophony of
voices, blending together into a symphony of sound. I freeze instantly, feeling the
weight of the bag against my chest and the cold metal of the knife in my hand.
Straining to see through the foliage, I catch glimpses of sunlight filtering through
the leaves, creating a dappled effect.

From the shadows, a group of contenders emerges, their laughter and
conversation reverberating through the silent forest like foreboding footsteps. My
stomach churns as I catch snippets of their conversation-graphic tales of
conquests, both in the realm of violence and intimacy. Their words create a
repulsive symphony that churns my stomach in disgust.

“You should've seen the look on his face when I gutted him. Pure gold!”

A burst of laughter erupts from one of them, a grotesque symphony that makes
my stomach twist.

Another a voice that sounds like a grating rasp, chimes in with

contender with a sa distic chuckle. “And what about that boy? He was practically
on his knees, begging for his life. Pathetic. I messed with him for the fun of it.”

I press my hand to my mouth, trying to muf fle the gasp that threatens to escape,
as their brutal recounting unfolds before me like a twisted performance.
Malevolence hangs in the air, polluting it with a putrid stench, while their voices
clash in a discordant cacophony of cruelty. My chest tightens with fear as they
casually mention the names of those they've killed, sending shivers down my
spine.

Their conversation takes a dark twist as they approach each other, delving into
the realm of twisted triumphs and vile conquests.

“I grabbed everything he had his bag, his gear. The dumbas s never saw it

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coming.”

One of them boasts, his voice oozing with nauseating pride.

“What happened with that girl, did you f uck her?”

“Hell yeah, she's loose as well. Must have been a f ucking sl ut before registering
at the Mating Run.”

me.

Huddled among the damp, decaying leaves, a wave of repulsion washes over
“Sick bas ar ds.”

I mutter under my breath, the sound barely audible over the rustling of leaves.
These contenders are a physical representation of the darkest aspects of human
nature, their laughter echoing through the forest like a chilling symphony.

Their loud laughter and playful banter make me feel uneasy. The instant I see
them, I loathe them for their callousness, which sends shivers down my spine.
The notion that they've teamed up, united by the common goal of theft and
betrayal, paints a bleak picture of the Mating Run's twisted dynamics.

“Let's take it all. Whatever bags, supplies, or whatever we can find!”

With a cruel chuckle, one of them declares while the others nod in agreement. As
I become aware of my surroundings, my heart pounds in my chest, a relentless
drumbeat, as I find myself amidst a pack of predators I've been tirelessly trying to
steer clear of.

I can feel the toxic stream of hatred coursing through me, silently cursing their
names. These are the creatures camouflaged in plain sight, reveling in the chaos
of the Mating Run to fulfill their sa distic cravings.

I brace myself against the tree, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I could sense the forest's awareness of the impending danger as the leaves.
seem to hold their breath. I find myself trapped in a relentless battle for survival,
surrounded by their malicious intentions.

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The contenders draw near, their boisterous laughter resonating through the air
like a sharp blade. Hidden among the foliage, I brace myself for the imminent
storm, my seething anger illuminated by the darkness.

Just as I'm about to flee, another sound catches my attention.

A voice, so familiar it sends shivers down my spine. In a state of disbelief, I shake
my head and carefully peer through the gaps of the leaves once more,
desperately hoping that my mind is deceiving me.

tree.

But it's not. I nearly lose my balance and teeter on the edge of falling out of the
It's Ettie who's talking.

Ettie. My Ettie.

[e]

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