The Mating Run

Chapter 51

Foe Sometimes | can’t help but wonder if Zeke’s got it all figured out.

mean, he’s not dumb, that’s for sure. I’ve seen that look in his eyes, that calculating glint when he realizes something. And | can’t shake this feeling that he’s onto something big.

| sit here in the dim light of our makeshift camp, the flickering flames of the fire casting dancing shadows on the trees around us. Zeke is sharpening one of the weapons we were given today, his gaze focused, his hands steady.

It's moments like these when | can’t help but let my mind wander, let it delve into the tangled web of thoughts that seem to weave themselves around me.

We were given weapons today, not meals. No surprise packages floated down from the sponsors, no tantalizing aroma of a hot, prepared dish. Just weapons. A cruel twist, maybe, or maybe it’s just the pack’s way of telling us that survival is on us now, that we need to fend for ourselves.

It's like they’re pushing us to rely on our hunting skills, like they're testing us. And | get it, survival of the fittest and all that. But it's more than that, | think.

| watch Zeke, the way his brow furrows in concentration, and | can’t shake the feeling that he’s figured something out. Something crucial. It’s in the way he glances at me when he thinks I’m not looking, a knowing glint in his eyes. We've been playing this game long enough to understand the rules, even if they keep changing

on us.

The thing is, Zeke’s not just my partner in this grim dance of life and death; he’s become my anchor. And | can’t help but wonder if he’s realized the same thing have — that our survival in this forest depends not just on our skills but on the whims of those elusive sponsors. And the key to unlocking their generosity?

Well, it might just be the illusion of a romance between us.

1 look down at my hands, calloused and stained with the dirt of this forest. The truth is, | never expected to find myself in this position — strategizing not just about hunting and staying hidden, but about how to manipulate the sponsor’s perception of us. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but in this place, there’s no room for naivety.

It's not like we're getting any younger in here, and the Mating Run, it’s not a game of hearts and flowers. It’s about surviving, plain and simple. If Zeke’s worked out that cozying up to me means more gifts, more chances at staying alive, then who am | to argue?

Zeke finishes sharpening the weapon and looks up, meeting my gaze. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a silent understanding. Maybe he’s thinking the same thoughts, wrestling with the same dilemmas. We're in this together, after all, bound by circumstance and the shared goal of making it out of here alive.

And now, as the days blur into nights in this treacherous forest, | can’t shake the feeling that Zeke has cracked the code. That he’s realized the power we hold, not just in our skills with weapons or our ability to navigate the terrain, but in the narrative we spin for the sponsors.

It's a realization that sits heavy in the pit of my stomach.

| watch as Zeke stands and walks over to where I’m sitting. He doesn’t say anything, just sits down next to me, his gaze fixed on the flames. We're both lost in our thoughts, navigating the uncharted territory of this twisted game.

“Alina.” Zeke calls out, his voice breaking the peaceful silence.

| look up, meeting his gaze. Zeke stands there, tall and sturdy, his eyes scanning the forest as if assessing the surroundings for any potential threats.

“Ready to go?” Zeke asks, a half-smile playing on his lips. I nod, slipping the knife into its sheath. “Yeah, let’s do this.” Zeke offers his hand, a silent invitation to join him in this dance of survival.

| hesitate for a moment, my fingers hovering in the air. There’s something about the simplicity of the gesture that catches me off guard.

But then my practical side kicks in. This is the Mating Run, after all.

Nothing is as simple as it seems. | glance around, and there it is — the ever—watchful eye of the sponsors, the hidden cameras that capture our every move. This is not just about hunting for food — it’s about playing to an audience, about putting on a show to earn those crucial sponsor gifts.

| take a deep breath, pushing aside my reservations.

| reach out and grab Zeke’s hand, the warmth of his touch grounding me. For a moment, it’s just the two of us, partners in this deadly dance. But then I catch sight of the camera, discreetly tucked away among the branches, and | remember the rules of this game.

As we start walking, Zeke glances at me, a question in his eyes. “You alright?” “Yeah,” | reply, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just gearing up for the hunt.”

We walk in silence for a while, the tension in the air palpable. The trees cast long shadows, and the rustle of leaves beneath our feet is a reminder of the constant presence of danger.

We continue walking, hand in hand, and as we do, | can’t shake the feeling that this is a dangerous game we're playing — not just with the other contenders left but with the pack itself.

The line between reality and fiction blurs, and | find myself caught up in the narrative we’re weaving. As we move deeper into the forest, the air thickens with the scent of pine and damp earth. | focus on the rhythm of our steps, the way Zeke’s hand feels warm and

reassuring in mine And then, in the distance, a camera captures our every move, Turning this private moment into a piece of entertainment for the sponsors.

But then, just as we pass a particularly uneven patch of ground, | stumble, my foot catching on a root that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

In that split second, | let myself fall, exaggerating the stumble for maximum effect. And then, Zeke is there, his arms wrapping around me, breaking my fall.

| look up at him, feigning surprise, and he chuckles,

“Smooth, Alina,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. “Real smooth.”

| blush, pushing myself upright, “Hey, it’s not my fault that tree was out to get me.” Zeke grins, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

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| playfully hit his chest.

“You're such a cornball, Zeke.”

He laughs, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

“Guilty as charged. But you're lucky I’m here to catch you if you fall.”

| roll my eyes, but there’s a warmth spreading through me, a feeling that goes beyond the charade we're putting on for the cameras. In the midst of this deadly game, there’s a strange comfort in having someone by your side, someone who's willing to play along, to dance through the darkness with you.

As we resume our journey, | can’t help but steal glances at Zeke. The way the fading sunlight catches the edges of his profile, the way his eyes gleam with a mixture of anusement and something more.

It's easy to forget, even if just fora moment, that we’re in the Mating Run, that he’s just pretending, that every step we take is a step closer to the unknown.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees as Zeke and | moved quietly through the dense foliage. We'd been looking for hours now, the hunger gnawing at our stomachs, a relentless reminder of the brutal reality

of the run. | squinted, my eyes scanning the ground for any signs of movement.

Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. Survival in the forest demanded not just skill but a keen awareness of the surroundings, an ability to read the forest’s subtle cues.

“Stop.”

| whispered, my hand shooting out to grab Zeke’s arm. He froze, his eyes narrowing as he followed my gaze. A few feet away, hidden in the shadows, a small rabbit nibbled on a patch of grass, oblivious to the danger that lurked nearby.

| felt a surge of excitement.

The hunger in my belly seemed to intensify, driving me forward. Zeke looked at me, his eyes questioning, and | nodded toward the unsuspecting rabbit. We needed this, a small victory in the midst of the ruthless game that surrounded us.

“Stay quiet,” | murmured, my voice barely audible. “I'll take it down.”

| crouched low, my fingers wrapping around the hilt of the hunting knife strapped to my thigh. The forest seemed to close in around me, the rustling leaves and distant calls of birds creating a symphony of nature.

| focused on the rabbit, calculating the distance and the angle of my approach. Zeke watched, his eyes locked on mine, a silent understanding passing between us.

In the Mating Run, every meal was a precious commodity, every opportunity to secure food a small triumph. | inched forward, my movements deliberate, my senses

attuned to the slightest sound. As | drew closer, the rabbit's ears twitched, its nose lifting in the air as if sensing danger.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in the silence of the forest. | slowed my breathing, willing myself to become one with the shadows, a predator closing in on its prey.

The rabbit froze, its eyes widening in alarm.

In that moment, time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing down to the space between me and the small creature. As | gripped the knife, its coolness. provided a comforting reassurance in this unforgiving forest.

| lunged forward, the knife cutting through the air with a swift, controlled motion. The blade connected with the rabbit's throat, and a surge of triumph coursed through me. The small creature struggled for a moment, its delicate form twitching, and then it lay still.

| stood there, my chest heaving, the rush of the hunt still echoing in my ears.

Zeke approached, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and relief. We needed this, the sustenance that the forest provided, a brief respite from the constant threat of hunger.

“Nice one,” Zeke said, a smile playing on his lips. “You make it look easy.”

| couldn't help but return the smile, a shared moment of victory in a world that sought to break us. “We needed this,” | replied, gesturing toward the lifeless rabbit. “Let's get it back to camp.” “Alina, I’ve got to say. | never thought you had it in you.”

| couldn't help but smile at his words.

“Yeah, well, | guess the Mating Run bring out unexpected skills.”

Zeke turned to me, his eyes locked onto mine.

“No, seriously. You handled that knife like a pro. | never knew you could hunt

like that.”

“| didn’t know either. Guess survival instincts kick in when you’re thrown into a forest like this.” He chuckled, a low, soothing sound that resonated in the stillness of the night.

“Well, I'm impressed. You’re full of surprises, Alina.”

| felt a warmth spread through me, a mixture of pride and gratitude. A compliment coming from Zeke, they held a significance that went beyond the words themselves.

| shifted uneasily, glancing around the camp as if expecting the cameras to reveal themselves. The forest remained silent, but the presence of the unseen audience loomed large.

Zeke noticed my change in demeanor, his brows furrowing in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

| forced a smile, masking the turmoil within.

“Never better.”

As if sensing my internal struggle, Zeke reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “Hey, don’t worry. You did good.” But then, as if on cue, a soft hum emanated from above.

| looked up, my eyes narrowing at the small drone hovering in the night sky.

A bitter taste filled my mouth, a blend of resentment and resignation.

Just as if it was planned, Zeke slid his arm around me, his touch simultaneously soothing and strategic. | tried to suppress the twinge of discomfort, my mind reminding me that this was all just an act to safeguard the fragile connection we had built for the sponsors to think was true.

“Hey, Zeke,” | said, my voice laced with a hint of hurt, “Are you proud of me for the whole hunting thing?” He kissed my forehead, a gesture that felt both tender and rehearsed.

“Very proud. You’re proving yourself in this forest, Alina. | couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

My heart ached, the conflicting emotions threatening to spill over.

“Just doing what | can to survive. Nothing more.”

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine.

“Right, just trying to survive.”