Silas jogged forward at a steady pace while Mirabelle watched the maze unfold before them.

The walls rose high on both sides, built from thick timber and woven roots. Somewhere beyond them came muffled voices, the occasional curse, and the roar of spectators watching from the arena platforms above.

"Left. Keep going."

Silas immediately obeyed.

Ahead of them stretched the first obstacle.

A single tree trunk.

Long.

Narrow.

Its bark had been stripped smooth and polished by countless feet. The rounded surface sloped away on both sides, making every step a balancing act.

Several pairs ahead of them were already struggling.

A fox Beastman wobbled dangerously while his female shrieked instructions.

One wrong step.

A yelp.

Then both disappeared from sight behind the trunk as the crowd above erupted into laughter.

Mirabelle narrowed her eyes.

"Slow down."

Silas immediately reduced his pace.

"Three more steps."

The panther counted silently. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"Stop."

His foot touched the wood.

For a brief moment he stood perfectly still.

Orienting himself.

Feeling the grain beneath his sole.

The width.

The angle.

The direction.

Then—

he sprinted.

Mirabelle nearly strangled him.

Her arms locked around his neck as the world blurred.

The trunk couldn’t have been wider than her thigh.

One mistake would send them tumbling.

Yet Silas moved across it as naturally as breathing.

Of course he did.

Panthers practically grew up balancing on branches.

The wind rushed against her face.

The crowd gasped.

Then solid ground appeared beneath them again.

"You’re insane."

Silas’ mouth twitched.

The closest thing to a smile.

Ahead waited the next obstacle:

A large pool of water.

Dozens of circular stone platforms protruded above the surface.

At first glance it looked easy.

Then Mirabelle watched one of the stones suddenly sink beneath a wolf Beastman.

A female screamed.

Water exploded upward.

Several spectators cheered.

"Oh."

Now she understood.

The trick wasn’t crossing.

The trick was knowing which stones stayed above water.

Luckily, a hand full of other participants were already testing them.

Mirabelle watched carefully while Silas waited.

One stone sank.

Another remained stable.

A third tilted.

A fourth vanished entirely.

Patterns began forming inside her head.

"Give me your hand."

Silas immediately released one of her legs.

Then, before she could reach for him, he adjusted her position on his back.

With practiced ease, he lifted her slightly higher.

One of Mirabelle’s legs settled securely into the crook of his arm while his hand wrapped firmly around her other thigh, ensuring she couldn’t slip even if he lost his footing.

Only after he was satisfied that she was secure did he extend his free hand backward.

Mirabelle blinked.

It was strangely impressive how naturally he did it.

As though carrying females through obstacle courses was a completely ordinary part of his day.

"Ready?"

She placed her hand into his.

"Ready."

From then on, Mirabelle used their joined hands to guide him.

A slight pull to the left.

A small twist to the right.

Although Silas couldn’t see, he reacted instantly to every signal.

Soon they barely needed words at all.

Every adjustment was immediate.

Every correction precise.

They worked together far too well.

"One long jump forward."

He obeyed.

Splashing water erupted nearby as another pair failed.

"Half a step left."

Jump.

Stable.

"Forward two."

Jump.

Stable again.

Silas landed perfectly every time.

Each pause lasted only long enough for Mirabelle to adjust his direction. She guided him with pulling his hand in the direction he should move.

Soon they were practically flying across the obstacle.

Other competitors stared.

A few females cursed.

By the time they reached the opposite platform, they had overtaken several pairs.

The excited rhythm of his female’s heartbeat echoed against his back. Silas felt every beat.

"You’re enjoying this."

Mirabelle grinned.

"Maybe."

They continued deeper into the maze.

The smell of wet stone slowly faded.

Then came the sound.

WHOOSH.

WHOOSH.

WHOOSH.

Something heavy cut through the air ahead.

The next obstacle appeared.

Massive suspended logs.

Each as thick as a tree trunk.

They swung back and forth across the pathway at different speeds, creating a constantly shifting wall of wood.

One hit from those things looked painful.

Mirabelle watched a bear Beastman take one directly to the shoulder.

The impact spun him sideways.

His female shrieked.

Both disappeared into the sand.

Mirabelle winced. "...Okay."

Silas tilted his head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

That response clearly did not reassure him.

Mirabelle studied the obstacle.

Watched the rhythm.

Counted.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Eventually she noticed something.

There was a perfect path.

A precise speed.

A single rhythm that would allow someone to pass straight through without stopping.

"Trust me."

Silas immediately nodded.

No hesitation.

No questions.

Her chest warmed slightly.

"Jog forward."

He obeyed.

"A little faster."

Silas adjusted.

"Good. Memorize the pace...

Stop."

Around them several other pairs gathered.

Nobody wanted to go first.

The females exchanged uncertain looks while their males waited for instructions.

Mirabelle kept watching.

Calculating.

The logs continued their deadly dance.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Now."

Silas exploded forward.

Instantly.

Without questioning her.

Mirabelle squeezed her eyes shut.

The air shifted.

WHOOSH.

A log passed behind them.

WHOOSH.

Another crossed directly in front of silas face.

The rush of displaced air tugged at her hair.

Still Silas ran.

Perfect speed.

Perfect timing.

Perfect trust.

Then suddenly—

silence.

They were through.

Mirabelle opened her eyes.

The obstacle sat behind them.

"Ha!"

Excitement surged through her.

Unfortunately several competitors had been watching.

"Oh! That’s how!"

"Go!"

Two ambitious females immediately ordered their partners forward.

Mirabelle had enough time to wince.

Then came the screams.

THUD.

"AAAH!"

Another THUD.

A very colorful curse.

The audience above absolutely loved it.

Mirabelle decided not to look back.

Instead she focused on the path ahead.

The corridor split once more.

Three new routes.

She studied the sand carefully.

The left showed many footprints.

The middle fewer.

The right none.

Not a single track.

Nobody had chosen it.

Mirabelle’s mind immediately branched into a dozen analytical possibilities.

Which route should she take?