The Mating Run by Leeka

Foe

Sometimes I 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 I can’t shake this feeling that he’s onto something big.

I 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 I 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 I get it, survival of the fittest and all that. But it’s more than that, I think.

I watch Zeke, the way his brow furrows in concentration, and I 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 I 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, I 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 I 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, I 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.

I 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.

I 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.

I 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.

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

a deep breath, pushing aside my

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,

Zeke glances at me, a question in his eyes. “You

trying to sound nonchalant. “Just gearing up

shadows, and the rustle of leaves beneath our feet is a

a dangerous game we’re

between reality and fiction blurs, and I find myself caught up in the narrative

air thickens with the scent of pine and damp

focus on the rhythm of our steps, the way Zeke’s hand feels warm

our every move, Turning this private moment into a piece of entertainment for the

uneven patch of ground, I stumble, my foot catching

the stumble for maximum effect. And then, Zeke is there, his arms wrapping around

him, feigning surprise, and he chuckles,

says, a playful glint in

upright, “Hey, it’s not my fault that tree was out to

brushing a strand of

certainly know how to make

playfully hit

a cornball, Zeke.”

to

here to catch

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

journey, I 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

just for a moment,

that every step we take

shadows through the trees as Zeke and I moved quietly through the dense foliage.

of the run.

scanning the ground for any signs of movement.

of a twig, sent a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. Survival in the forest demanded not just skill but a

“Stop.”

hand shooting out to grab Zeke’s arm. He froze, his eyes narrowing as he followed my gaze. A few feet away, hidden in

surge

me, his eyes questioning, and I nodded toward the unsuspecting

voice barely audible. “I’ll take it

strapped to my thigh. The forest seemed to close in around me, the

focused on the rabbit, calculating the distance and the angle

locked on

between us.

commodity, every opportunity to secure food a small triumph.

to the slightest sound.

its nose lifting

in my chest, each beat echoing in the silence of the forest. I slowed my breathing, willing myself to

froze, its eyes widening

the space between me and the small creature. As I gripped

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

of the hunt still

needed this, the sustenance that the forest provided, a brief respite from the constant threat of hunger.

one,” Zeke said, a smile playing on