The Mating Run

Chapter 6

Beginning

The day of the Mating Run arrives, and the trail is alive with the sounds of everyone preparing for the event.

This time, Ettie and | arrive together, both clad in the mandatory pack-issued gray tracksuits for contenders of the event. My hair is too short to tie into a ponytail, so | clip it back on both sides, while Ettie’s high ponytail adds a touch of elegance to her appearance. The absence of photographers is noticeable, but it’s only a matter of time before the benches will fill up, and the sound of clicking cameras will become a constant background noise.

As we walk through the event, we are surrounded by booths of every color, each one offering a different item for sale — keychains, shirts, foods, and other souvenirs. The merchants are eager to promote their products and even ask us to pose for a photo holding their items as they promise to use them for advertising to gather sponsors once their stalls are ready.

Ettie, standing right next to me, is already sweating profusely and tugging at the collar of her tracksuit.

“Ugh! Today’s heat is killing me.”

“Really?” | ask, my voice tinged with bewilderment. The cool, damp air makes it feel like the perfect day for a cozy sweater. “It’s not really that warm.”

Ettie furrows her brow and looks at me quizzically.

“Alina, I’m sweating my butt off.”

Just as I’m about to respond, a pair of strong arms encircle my shoulder, and a gentle kiss is planted on my forehead. If it were any other day, | would respond differently to the one who did it, but not on this day. It's unmistakable — Victor’s familiar scent fills the air.

Since the Sponsor’s Gala, he has been following me around like a shadow,

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which is starting to irritate me.

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| try to fight it, but the more time | spend with him, the more | find myself feeling irritated and yet strangely attached. Victor grew on me like a fungus, and try as | might, | can’t shake him off.

“Hey doll face, you were supposed to let me know when you got here.” His nose brushes against my cheek as he playfully teases me again, making me laugh. I’m used to his antics, so | roll my eyes at him, much to Victor’s delight. He turns towards Ettie, and her typical scowl greets him. “And there’s Ettie! You looking forward to today?”

“Peachy.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Ettie grumbles, her tone laced with a hint of irritation. She wipes her forehead. again, and | think it’s more the heat than anything that has her feeling frustrated. She pulls at the fabric of her tracksuit, trying to get some relief from the so-called heat she’s experiencing.

“What's her deal?” Victor’s whisper is so close, | can feel his lips brush against. my ear. “She’s sweating like crazy.”

“| don’t know. She’s saying the weather's hot.”

“I'm not deaf, | can hear you both.”

Ettie grumbles again, the sound of her shoes slapping against the ground as she walks towards the booth selling iced lemonade. Since the contenders are the primary source of income for the event, we’re allowed to get most of the stuff from the booths for free. Once the merchant notices Ettie’s sweat-drenched clothes, he offers her a cup of iced lemonade, which she gulps down in one go.

“Dam n, that was good. Thanks.”

“Sure, I’ve given out drinks to plenty of people before you!” The merchant speaks with a heavy accent and a rough voice. “Sorry, this must be really hard for you. The staff said it’s not gonna happen until much later.”

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Victor coc ks his head to the side, his hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

“What wouldn't happen?”

Victor's sudden appearance causes the merchant's eyes to bulge out of their sockets, reminding me once again of his fame. Without answering his question, the merchant grabs two more cups of his ice-cold lemonade, condensation running down the sides, and hands one to Victor and me.

“No way, you're the Alpha’s kid! Take some drinks from my booth. It'd be awesome. Help yourself for seconds if you want. Usually, you only get one free drink, but the Alpha’s son and his friends can get as many as they want.”

Victor's lips twist into a sly grin as he savors the taste of the liquid in the cup.

“Cool. Do we get a free snack too?”

Victor's shamelessness leaves Ettie and me struggling to carry all of the useless things the merchants gave us. The range of items is diverse, including shirts, shoes, and popcorn. We are given everything for free, and most items are two to three in quantity. The bas t ard doesn’t even appear the slightest bit

embarrassed.

With just a flutter of his eyelashes and a quick introduction, the merchants are eager to fulfill his every request.

Ettie is still sweating, but her anger has escalated to a point where she is now eerily calm despite her fury. I've come to know her well enough to recognize the signs of when to avoid talking to her. We don’t object when Victor escorts us to a table, and we take our seats.

“Ain't life like this f ucking grand? Being Alpha Craft’s son pays off sometimes.”

Ettie shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth, her eyes narrowing as she glares at him.

“You make me sick.”

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Beginning

which | then unfurl before them.

“So, basically, they’re categorizing us based on our vitals and interview performance. To get in, we gotta give up our phones and everything except our tracksuits at the registration desk up front. They stick the tracker in us and we sign some papers. And then, the registrar will let us know what category we’re in.”

We moan and groan, but eventually we relent and walk to the registration area

together.

While on our way, Victor has to make a few stops to do some interviews and take some photos, which involves Ettie and me as well. Every step is nerve-wracking, but the fresh air and beautiful surroundings provide some relief.

The Mating Run is something | have been looking forward to, but now I’m feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Every so often, Victor glances over at me and asks if I’m fine, as if he can sense something is wrong.

Despite his flirtatious behavior, | can tell that he is a good person, and | appreciate that.

As soon as we reach the registration, we come to a halt. Even though there is already a line forming, the staff quickly ushers us to the front as soon as they see Victor’s face. Rather than feeling embarrassed, | am too busy wrestling with my

extreme anxiety.

“Victor Craft! So happy to see you! All we need you to do is sign some papers, but first things first...” The staff retrieves a box from under the table and sets it down in front of us with a soft thud. With a smile, they tap the top with their fingers. “If you’ve brought any gadgets or anything other than the tracksuit, just leave them here. After you’re done, let me inject the tracker in your wrist. Then we'll let your know which category you’re in for the Mating Run today.”

Victor's hand tightens around the pen, and he lowers himself down to begin writing. Before signing, he takes a deep breath and turns to look at us over his shoulder, his eyes filled with worry.

“| promised myself | wouldn't be anxious, but I’m failing.”

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which | then unfurl before them.

“So, basically, they’re categorizing us based on our vitals and interview performance. To get in, we gotta give up our phones and everything except our tracksuits at the registration desk up front. They stick the tracker in us and we sign. some papers. And then, the registrar will let us know what category we’re in.”

We moan and groan, but eventually we relent and walk to the registration area together.

While on Our H

Victor has to make a few stops to do some interviews and take some photos, which involves Ettie and me as well. Every step is nerve-wracking, but the fresh air and beautiful surroundings provide some relief.

The Mating Run is something | have been looking forward to, but now I’m feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Every so often, Victor glances over at me and asks if I’m fine, as if he can sense something is wrong.

Despite his flirtatious behavior, | can tell that he is a good person, and | appreciate that.

As soon as we reach the registration, we come to a halt. Even though there is already a line forming, the staff quickly ushers us to the front as soon as they see Victor’s face. Rather than feeling embarrassed, | am too busy wrestling with my extreme anxiety. “Victor Craft! So happy to see you! All we need you to do is sign some papers, but first things first...” The staff retrieves a box from under the table and sets it down in front of us with a soft thud. With a smile, they tap the top with their fingers. “If you’ve brought any gadgets or anything other than the tracksuit, just leave them here. After you’re done, let me inject the tracker in your wrist. Then we'll let you know which category you're in for the Mating Run today.”

Victor's hand tightens around the pen, and he lowers himself down to begin writing. Before signing, he takes a deep breath and turns to look at us over his shoulder, his eyes filled with worry.

“| promised myself | wouldn't be anxious, but I’m failing.”

Ill

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Asmile from the staff immediately puts Victor at ease.

“No need to stress. You'll get your category in an envelope. Why not open it up with your friends?”

“| can do that? Awesome.”

pen on paper

As we sign the papers, the sound of pen on paper fills the air, accompanied by the occasional rustle of paper. We take off any extraneous items not needed for the trail and place them in the box provided. The staff spends a few minutes injecting all of our trackers, one by one. Out of all the steps, that is the one that takes the longest. Upon completion, the staff distributes our envelopes with a grin.

“May all three of you find your true mates in the Mating Run.”

In anticipation of the Mating Run, the staff shares its iconic tagline with us. Just as we are nodding to leave, the staff clears their throat for a second time. When we turn around, we notice that their smiles are still plastered on their faces, but this time they soom forced.

“Oh... and try not to kill anyone. It’s not technically against the rules, but if you can hold off, please do.”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Victor smirks. “Sure.”

We trudge back to our table in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Ettie’s hand trembles as she gazes intently at the envelope, sweat still pouring down her face. Victor’s head is slumped, but | can tell by the furrowed brow on his face that he is also studying the envelope. The lump in my throat makes it difficult to speak, so | take a deep breath before raising my head to stare at them.

“Let's just do it and be done. You want to do it on the count of three?”

Finally breaking her hours of silence, Ettle nods and speaks.

“Sure. One.”

| watch as Victor’s chest rises and falls with each deep breath. His hands

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tremble as he touches the edge of his envelope, ready to rip it open.

“Two.”

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With a deep breath, | tear open the envelope and squeeze my eyes shut.

“Three.”

My eyes flicker open, and | quickly scan the category displayed on my letter. | catch Victor and Ettie doing the same from my peripheral vision. With a quick read-through, Victor finds whatever he was looking for on the paper, causing him to

throw his head back and smile.

As | turn to look at Ettie, my smile fades away.

Her eyes are wide with shock, and her hand is shaking as she clutches the

letter.

“Ettie?”

Ettie shakes her head, her long hair swishing back and forth.

“This isn’t happening.”

“What you got, doll face?” Victor's letter catches the light as he flips it over to show us. “I got Hider.”

I nod, showing him my letter, and he takes it from my hand.

“| got Hider too.”

“Awesome!” Victor's face lights up with a grin, but it quickly fades when he notices Ettie’s strange behavior. “Ettie? What's wrong?”

Ettie is silent, but her eyes and body language speak volumes. Her discomfort

is visible as she swallows, and her complexion grows paler. She nervously hands us the letter with trembling fingers, and Victor and | eagerly grab it to read.

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At the exact moment Victor reads it out loud, | let out a gasp.

“Ettie Winterman Hunter.”

cH