You stood at the edge of the wide arena, heart hammering as you scanned the others gathered around you. The packed earth beneath your bare feet felt cool and damp with the morning’s lingering mist.

All around, a low hum of anticipation rippled through the crowd. Creatures of every shape and origin lined up—towering figures with scales or horns, sleek beings with feathers or glistening skin.

It was the mate contest, held once every cycle. Seekers waited on one side, eyes fixed with predatory focus, muscles taut and ready to spring, while runners like you gathered across from them, marked with thin silver bands tied around your upper arms to show availability.

“Runners, take your positions,” the announcer’s voice boomed, echoing across the grounds with commanding authority.

You could always avoid the chaos of the chase and choose a straightforward pairing—safe, negotiated, unremarkable. But what's the fun in that?