The Mating Run by Leeka

Chapter 26

Sponsors
Ettie’s back has been something that I’m used to following all the years we’ve been together. The only time that I’m ever in front of Ettie is during our morning jogs, but that’s because Ettie says that she’s tired and worn out. Though judging from her lab results, I knew that she was lying, probably just so that I could feel better about myself.
And so as she leads the way, I’m not surprised in the slightest. I grip the strap of Zeke’s bag tighter around my shoulders, sneaking a glance to the corpse of the Hunter beneath my feet. Bending down, my hand instinctively snat ched the map clutched in the dead Hunter’s grip. The edges were now crumpled and stained with blood, but I ignore it, safely tucking the map away inside my pocket.
For some reason, I stole a glance at Ettie, ensuring her gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering. I didn’t want her to see that I had a map to begin with.
Where are we going?
Somewhere safe.
A few minutes after, I spot a makeshift hut looming ahead. My eyes widened with amazement at the sight, not expecting such a place in the middle of the forest. Ettie led the way with an assurance that resonated with the familiarity of a place that, despite its primal surroundings, echoed with the heartbeat of home. The logs. and intertwined branches formed a protective cocoon, a sanctuary, just what Ettie would have wanted.
As we approached, Ettie’s silhouette against the backdrop of the rustic dwelling embodied a semblance of normalcy, a stark contrast to the predatory chaos lurking beyond its wooden walls. The scent of damp earth and the comforting musk of wood permeated the air, momentarily soothing the raw edges of apprehension etched upon my consciousness.
Ettie, pushed a curtain of vines that served as a door to the side, urging me to come inside. Carefully, I walked through the vines, expecting more people but was
1/5
14:55 Fri, 8 Mar DG
Sponsors
surprised to see that we were alone. Ettle then unceremoniously dropped her arrows and quiver to the side, propped against the log wall.

4
“Drop your bag there, Alina,” Ettie suggested, her voice a thread of vulnerability woven into the tapestry of the forest’s symphony. Her eyes, reflective pools mirroring the scars of our fractured history, held a fragile plea for trust.
A fleeting hesitation gripped me, my fingers unwilling to relinquish the tether to security that my bag represented, I didn’t think it was safe to be here empty. handed, and I didn’t have it in me to trust Ettle, just yet. She looks more like a stranger than my friend as of the moment.
Ettie, her eyes catching the flicker of hesitation and hurt, spoke with a measured acceptance that carried the burden of understanding.
“It’s okay, Alina,” she said, a sigh traversing the divide between us. “I get it. Trust isn’t something that mends overnight, especially after everything.”
The admission, hung in the air like an unspoken vow. Even I felt guilty, especially with how I can’t even deny it, even though I knew that there’s nothing to be guilty of. My bag, a repository of survival etched upon its frayed surface, remained tethered to my grasp-a silent testament to the jagged contours of our shared journey.
The hut, a haven cloaked in the shadows of secrecy, beckoned us into its embrace. Ettie’s invitation, a delicate dance between hospitality and the unspoken ache of redemption, echoed through the air.
I chose a corner, my back to the wall, a calculated stance that mirrored the lingering specters of caution. Ettle, her movements fluid as a leaf carried by the wind, busied herself with tasks that spoke of a routine etched within the confines of our shared sanctuary.
She cast a fleeting glance in my direction, a silent acknowledgment of the chasm yet to be bridged. The logs c rackled in the fire, their dance of shadows an intricate ballet that mirrored the tumultuous interplay of emotions within the confines of my heart.
55 Fri, 8 Mar
Sponsors
“Are you hungry, Alina?” The words, imbued with a sense of hospitality, held the power to bridge the gap or deepen the fissures that lingered between us.
Caught off guard, I was about to utter the customary denial-a well-practiced shield to conceal the gnawing emptiness within-when an involuntary rumble emanated from my stomach. Our eyes met, and, for a moment, the solemnity melted into laughter a shared acknowledgment of the universality of hunger, a reminder that, beneath our veils of animosity, we were, at our core, beings tethered by shared needs.
Laughter, that age-old remedy for fractured connections, reverberated through the hut, momentarily suspending the weight of distrust that had become the silent companion to our every interaction. The echo of shared mirth cast a flicker of familiarity upon the walls, like the fleeting warmth of a sunbeam breaking through storm clouds.
Yet, as laughter subsided, an awkward silence descended, an unspoken acknowledgment of the precipice we stood upon. Ettie, ever the resilient spirit, cleared her throat, her eyes now fixed on the fire, flames casting shadows upon the contours of her face.
“I have some meat,” she confessed, her voice a hesitant murmur seeking solace amidst the uncertainty. “Even bacon.” The admission, spoken with the fragility of a secret unveiled, lingered in the air like a whispered plea for acceptance.
The revelation stilled the air between us, a shared breath suspended in the uncharted territories of reconciliation. The question hung, unspoken, in the space between our gazes-a question tethered to the origin of that elusive meat.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, the words slicing through the uneasy silence like a blade seeking truth. Ettie, caught in the crossfire of honesty and vulnerability, blushed-a shade of vulnerability etched upon her features.
“A sponsor,” she confessed, a bit embaras sed. “I’ve gotten most of what helped me survive this long from sponsors. I guess they kind of like me.”
The flickering fire painted the hut’s walls in warm hues, shadows dancing in rhythm with the ebb and flow of our unspoken emotions. The cozy interior, a haven
O
215
14:55 Fri, Mar DG
The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255