The Mating Run by Leeka

Regret

Two days.

That’s how long I’m walking through this endless forest.

The trees tower over me, their leaves blocking out the sun. It’s growing hot, and sweat beads on my

forehead, trickling down my face. My clothes stick to my skin like a second layer, uncomfortable and

damp.

I join the Mating Run, thinking it’s an adventure, and I will get a mate.

But now, all I want is for everything to go back to normal, for me to go home. The regret sits heavy in

my chest, a constant companion as I navigate through the tangled maze of trees.

The forest seems to stretch on forever, the path ahead twisting and turning like a never–ending puzzle.

Each step I take is heavy with exhaustion, my legs ache as if they carry the weight of the world.

The sun beats down relentlessly, making the air thick and suffocating.

As I trudge forward, a pungent smell assaults my senses.

Crinkling my nose, the stench of death hangs in the air, and my stomach churns in response. I come

across corpses, lifeless forms scattered across the forest floor. It’s a grim sight, and I can’t help but

wonder what led them to this fate. The ground beneath me feels different, as if it’s soaked with the

stories of those who didn’t

make it.

I try to avoid looking at the lifeless bodies, but their presence lingers in my mind. It’s a stark reminder of

the dangers that lurk in this wilderness, a place I foolishly thought would be a simple challenge. Now,

with every step, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking on a path marked by the shadows of those

who came

before me.

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The smell changes as I continue, and the air becomes heavy with another scent the lingering aftermath

of sex.

I wonder.if it’s something that both Hider and Hunter agree on. I wish it is.

My mind makes me remember all those other Hunters that tried to hurt me.

I shudder.

I pass by secluded clearings, the aftermath of frenzied moments etched in the trampled grass. It’s a

silent witness to the wild impulses of the Mating Run, a reality I didn’t fully grasp when I signed up for

this journey. The regret grows, gnawing at me with each step.

I wish I didn’t take for granted the simplicity of my life before, the comfort of routine and familiarity.

My water supply dwindles, and my throat feels parched. I long for a cool drink, for the taste of

something familiar. The regret gnaws at me, a persistent ache that refuses to subside. Sure, I sign up

for the mating run, but it’s to find a mate.

I didn’t sign up for this the fatigue, the stench, the remnants of others‘ passion lingering in the air.

The hours blur into one another, and I find myself stumbling over roots and rocks. Each step is a

struggle, and I yearn for the comfort of my bed, the safety of home.

And as the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows that stretch like fingers across the forest floor.

The temperature drops slightly, but the air remains thick with the weight of my surroundings. I wonder

how Ettie’s doing, if she’s out there looking for me. Every time I glance at the map, her number remains

where her hut was. She hasn’t left it in two days.

I spot a clearing up ahead, a small reprieve from the suffocating embrace of the trees. As I step into the

open space, the air feels slightly cooler, and I welcome the respite.

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I sit on a fallen log, staring into the night sky, lost in the solitude of my thoughts.

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A rustling in the bushes nearby startles me, and I tense, my senses on high alert. I wonder if it’s Ettie

who’s come and kill me. I wonder if it’s some other Hunter,

wanting to make me theirs. But it’s just a small rabbit, scurrying away with a quick dart.

I realize I need to find someplace to rest, but the fear of the unknown keeps me on edge.

Thankfully, I find a spot beneath a large tree, its branches offering some semblance of shelter. I lay

down, the uneven ground pressing against my weary body. The forest settles into an eerie quiet,

broken only by the nocturnal sounds that surround me. Sleep doesn’t come easily, each rustle and hoot

in the darkness sends shivers down my spine.

As I lay there, staring up at the canopy above, I can’t escape the realization that this journey has

changed me. The regret, like a heavy burden, weighs me down. I long for the familiarity of my life

before the Mating Run, for the simplicity of home.

this:

Two days of walking, and I’m no closer to understanding the real purpose of

The regret lingers, a bitter taste in my mouth. I close my eyes, hoping that when I wake, the forest will

have released its grip on me, and I’ll find my way back to where I belong.

I wake up, the throbbing in my head relentless. The sun beats down on me, its harsh rays stabbing

through the trees. I try to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washes over me, forcing me back down. I feel

like I’ve been hit by a truck, and the forest around me blurs in and out of focus.

I reach for my bag, fingers fumbling through the contents. My hand closes around the familiar shape of

the water bottle, but when I pull it out, it’s empty. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. No

water. My stomach rumbles in protest, a low growl that echoes in the silence of the forest.

I glance around, hoping for a stream or some sign of water nearby, but all I see are the towering trees

and the relentless sun. The sudden weather change has

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turned this once–challenging adventure into a desperate struggle for survival. Dehydration sets in, a

relentless companion that tightens its grip with each passing.

moment.

I try to stand, my legs shaky beneath me. The forest seems to spin, the trees becoming a dizzying blur.

I stumble forward, clutching at branches for support; The world tilts, and I feel the heat pressing down

on me like a suffocating blanket.

I trudge forward, each step a laborious effort. My throat feels like sandpaper, each breath a struggle.

The rumbling in my stomach intensifies, a painful reminder of my empty water bottle. The sun, once a

distant companion, now feels like an unrelenting adversary, draining me of whatever strength I have

left.

reach a small clearing, and I sink to my knees. Desperation claws at me as I rummage through my bag

again, hoping to find a hidden stash of water. But all I get is emptiness. My stomach protests, a sharp

pang that reverberates through my entire body. I clutch my abdomen, willing the hunger and thirst to

subside.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the harsh reality around me. The sun beats down, its rays scalding

my skin. I’m trapped in a relentless cycle of exhaustion and thirst. A sob escapes my throat, a

desperate release of frustration and despair. didn’t sign up for this. The Mating Run was supposed to

be an adventure, not a struggle for survival.

I let myself cry for a moment, the tears streaming down my cheeks. The forest watches in silence, the

trees standing tall as silent witnesses to my moment of weakness. I stifle my sobs, covering my mouth

with my hand. I can’t afford to be found like this, vulnerable and broken. The other Hunters are out

there, and showing weakness is a dangerous game.

I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself. The forest is unforgiving, and I can’t afford to let my

guard down. I wipe away the tears, smearing dirt on my cheeks. The ache in my stomach intensifies, a

gnawing hunger that demands attention. I glance around, searching for any sign of water or food.

The sun beats down relentlessly, and I feel a wave of lightheadedness. Dehydration tightens its grip, a

vice around my throat. I try to focus on the path ahead, but the forest seems to close in around me. The

trees become a maze, and I

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stumble forward, my legs weak and unsteady.

I spot a small stream in the distance, a ribbon of hope cutting through the dense foliage. My pace

quickens, fueled by the desperate need for water. The stream is a lifeline, a source of relief in this

unforgiving landscape.

But as I approach, I realize it’s nothing more than a cruel illusion.

The stream is dried up, a mere memory of the water it once held.

I drop to my knees, frustration bubbling within me. The forest mocks me, offering a glimpse of salvation

before snatching it away. I press my palms against

the dry riverbed, as if the touch alone can conjure water.

My stomach rumbles again, a hollow sound that echoes in the silence.

“I should have never left.” I whisper to myself. “I should have stayed with Ettie.”

The sun beats down with unrelenting intensity, and I feel my strength waning. I’m trapped in a cycle of

thirst and exhaustion, each step heavier than the last.

this.

The realization hits me.

I might not make it out of this forest.

I might become just another lifeless figure lying on the forest floor.

I try to stand, my legs trembling beneath me. I can’t let the others see me like

I wipe away the dirt on my cheeks, a feeble attempt to mask the evidence of my moment of weakness.

I come across a patch of mushrooms, their vibrant colors standing out against. the earthy tones of the

forest floor. Hunger gnaws at me, and I consider plucking them, but hesitation holds me back. I didn’t

come prepared for this. I don’t know which mushrooms are safe, and the risk of poisoning myself is too

great.

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I stumble upon a fallen log and collapse onto it. The exhaustion weighs on me, and I close my eyes,

hoping to shut out the harsh reality. The sun casts a warm glow, but there’s no comfort in its light. I

press my hand against my stomach, the hunger a persistent ache that refuses to subside.

Wanting to distract myself, I reach into my pocket and pull out my map.

The paper crinkles in my hands as I unfold it, revealing the intricate lines and markings.

Ettie’s still in her hut. I squint at the numbers, tracing the path to her location. She’s stationary, has

been ever since I left. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing in there, whether she’s facing her own

demons or finding solace in the confines of

her solitude.

Zeke is on the move. The numbers lead me to a spot near the foot of the mountains. He’s moving

quickly, a blur on the map. I try to picture him in my mind, the determined look on his face as he

navigates through the terrain. I wonder what he’s searching for, what drives him forward in this

relentless pursuit.

And then, I freeze.

My eyes lock onto a set of numbers that send a jolt of shock through me. A few feet away from where I

am, Victor is.

Anger surges inside me like a wildfire. I clench my fists, frustration boiling within me.

Why does he have to ruin everything for me?

I make up my mind. I need him to know what he did.

I fold the map and slip it back into my pocket. The air’s surprisingly cool against. my skin as I stand up,

determination pushing me forward. I tread cautiously, my footsteps muffled by the thick underbrush.

The darkness is my ally, and I slip through the shadows, guided by the map in my pocket. The anger

fuels my steps, each one a purposeful stride.

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Everything is Victor’s fault – if he hadn’t ruined my hiding spot in the first place,

I wouldn’t be in this situation.

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