The Mating Run by Leeka

Safe

So, here I am, watching Victor scratch his head in confusion, wondering out loud why his claiming bite didn’t work.

“Something’s not right.”

And honestly, I can’t help but laugh. It’s like watching a magician who messed up a trick, and now everyone is left wondering what went wrong. But in this case, the trick was supposed to be some mystical bond, and all I got was a painful reminder of my naivety.

He mutters something about it not working as expected, and Zeke, always the voice of reason, asks if Victor even bothered to read the pamphlet. I can’t contain my laughter at this point. The pamphlet, the one that probably no one reads until things go south.

Classic.

But then Zeke drops a bombshell. The trackers inside us aren’t just trackers- they’re pheromone inducers. And apparently, every single thing in the field was a pheromone inducer. I try to wrap my head around it.

I can’t decide whether to be relieved that there’s no mystical bond or irritated that Victor literally took a bite out of me. It’s absurd, and I find myself laughing again. Maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of the situation or the fact that life has a way of turning expectations into a chaotic mess.

Victor looks like he’s about to say something, but Zeke beats him to it.

“You’re a f**king idiot, that’s what you are.”

Zeke declares, and for a moment, I appreciate the simplicity of his words.

No sugarcoating, just a straightforward assessment of the situation.

Safe

I look at Zeke, and we share a moment of understanding. The absurdity of it all hangs in the air like a punchline to an inside joke.

Victor finally speaks, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“But the claiming bite is supposed to create a bond!”

He protests, as if the universe owes him an explanation. I roll my eyes. The universe doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially not an explanation for failed magical bonds.

Zeke shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face.

“Did you even read the pamphlet?”

He asks, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. It’s a rhetorical question at this point. Who reads the pamphlet until everything falls apart?

Zeke explains the intricacies of Hunters and Hiders, and how Victor’s claim was nothing more than a physical act with no mystical repercussions. I feel a strange mix of relief and irritation.

at me, his expression a mix of confusion and

can’t help but shake my head. The

her flesh, Victor.

comes from the depths of my being, a release of pent–up tension and absurdity. Victor’s face contorts with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

of laughter, realizing that in this moment, I’ve found

of liberation. Liberated from the expectations of cosmic bonds and magical connections. Liberated from the weight of Victor’s

throbs in my neck, and I feel a bit woozy. Zeke tears a piece of his hoodie, and without a word, he covers

he says, his voice steady. “But

confusion etched on my

faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands up,

in the air, sharp and jarring. Victor stumbles backward, his hand flying to his nose, blood trickling between his fingers. I blink, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before me. Zeke, the usually calm and composed one,

his voice low and menacing. “Lucky that I have to

of her first.”

the air, a palpable threat that adds another layer of tension. to the

feel a strange mix

softening as he sees my bewildered expression. “I’m here,

as I press it onto the bleeding wound. The pain intensifies, but Zeke’s presence is a reassuring constant. I steal a glance at Victor, who’s still recovering from Zeke’s punches. He’s groaning in pain, crawling away from us. I

care.

Safe

feel a twinge of vulnerability. But then he returns with a water bottle, offering it to me. “Drink.” he instructs, and

pain. Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We need to get you out of here,” he says, his tone leaving no room

edges fading into a fog of

lifeline in the disorienting swirl of

pain in my neck throbs, a persistent reminder of Victor’s reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos. I want to ask him what’s

firm, a lifeline in the growing storm. I

growls intensify. It’s a cacophony that mirrors the

his voice

off and leave me alone

disorientation. I try to nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The sirens, the growls, Victor’s dismissive words–they all swirl around me,

hear Zeke mutter something, a low growl that matches the ominous sounds in the distance. The world is

to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me from

disorienting melody that surrounds us. I want to ask Zeke what’s happening, why everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control, but the words remain trapped in the fog

a scent, a signal that cuts through the air and travels far. I’ve heard about certain animals being attracted to it, drawn to the metallic tang that hangs in the wind. And now,

the surroundings like a hunter on high alert. We’re not alone. I know

in the shadows, drawn to the scent of blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is