Prey

It's summer, and we're in the woods. We're so far north the sun barely sets this time of the year, and the light is only half-faded even in the middle of the night. It means we'll be able to see where we're running, but it also means no darkness to cover us.

We're three women, lined up by the side of the road. We're the prey. There are also three groups consisting of five or six people each. A couple women, but the majority is male. They are the hunters.

The perimeter is quite big. There's a small hill, and it's sloping down from where we're standing. The road, which is more like a dirt track, is dwindling downhill. There are pine trees, and some large bushes here and there, but the vegetation itself doesn't provide a lot of coverage. Large rocks and boulders are scattered around, and there are small caves at the foot of the hill. Some bunkers left from the war are creating a few hiding places for us too.

The hunt starts at midnight, and the rules are simple: The prey gets a head start before the hunters track us down. If we survive the night, as in avoiding getting caught until morning, we'll get a nice prize. If we're caught, we're at the mercy of the hunters for the rest of the night.

We all know the prey's chances of making it are slim.

One of the prey looks like an Amazon woman or maybe a Viking goddess. She's tall and voluptuous, with big red lips and dark hair. The other one is smaller, skinny, tan, and blonde. I'm not tall either, but curvy, pale and with red blonde hair, so I'm somewhere in between those two when it comes to looks. Some variety for the hunters, I guess.

They've put numbers on us, scribbled on our chests like we're animals. The Amazon woman is number 1. The petite is number 2. I'm number 3. Except sneakers. we're close to being naked. We got some dark clay like material to rub on our skin for camouflage, and I tried to put on as much as possible. The petite woman is also wearing some sort of underwear, neon colored of all things.

I've spent a lot of time in the mountains ever since I was a child, so I negotiated for knee socks and a jacket, too. The Nordic summer can be chilly at night, and the bushes can easily tear your skin when running. I'm also planning on using the jacket to hide, but that plan is still a secret. The two other women have done this before and returned for more, but to me, the newbie, it feels like my very survival rests on my ability to outsmart the hunters.

Before we arrived here, we were equipped with cuffs and steel collars that are locked with a padlock in the back. The collars have a big ring on them in the front, so that a leech, or a rope, can be attached to us if necessary. We're also wearing glow sticks around our necks. A nice detail, so that the hunters can spot us more easily from a distance.

We got a whistle each, for security. The whistle is my get out of jail free card. The definitive stop sign. If I use it, the game is over for me, and I'll be collected and taken care of by the organizers.

How the hell did I end up here? I usually get in trouble for my big mouth or competitive streak, but this time I found an ad on a kink site, announcing for people to join The Hunt. More specifically, they needed female prey. Somehow it resonated with me, and an old partner and friend of mine had already signed up, so I thought it would be great fun. Fun as in the twisted and perverted joy of being hunted down and forcefully taken advantage of by a group of strangers. Yay. Adrenaline wise, it sure beats my regular summer vacations on a Mediterranean beach, reading fashion magazines.

So, I signed up, and went to a couple preparation meetings with the other participants. The organizers made sure we all understood our roles, and the risks and dangers of the game - including getting injured from running and hiding. As prey, we also negotiated and signed individual contracts. But as the leader stated in the ad: They were obviously looking for prey with few hard limits, and CNC had to be expected.

* * *

It's midnight, and the leader signals that the hunt is on. We start running. The pace is slow, so I have no problem keeping up with the other two. But when the track takes a right turn behind some boulders and we're out of sight, I slow down. The two other women keep running down the sloping hill, while I get off the track and start climbing uphill.

My strategy tonight is to go to the outer perimeter and hide. There's nothing athletic about me, and there's no way I'll be able to run all night. I've read the Hunger Games, and I've played my fair share of Fortnite, so I have a plan. I was always a lousy shooter in that game, but I usually made it to the top 10 by staying hidden close to the storm and not engaging anyone before I had to. It might not have been brave, but it was efficient.

I'm not sure about the other women's strategies, because we're not really a team. We might have told each other we'll watch each other's backs and help each other when we met in the meetings before, but we're not going to. We're all on our own. My downfall can be their success, and I want to be the victor.

I keep climbing uphill for a while, still covered by boulders and some trees before I start circling back against the starting point. After a while, I find a nice spot by some rocks, where a couple trees grow close together and have branches that almost reach down to the ground. I slide down behind the tree trunks and wrap the jacket around me. Conveniently - or, carefully picked out - my jacket is military green and blends into the environment. Everything's perfect so far. Now I just have to stay silent, wait, and pray that everything will go according to my plan.