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.

looks at me, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.

automatically triggered a cosmic connection. I can’t help but

huge chunk of her flesh, Victor. That’s

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

wipe away tears of laughter, realizing that in this

expectations of cosmic bonds and magical connections. Liberated from the weight of Victor’s failed attempt at claiming. It’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders,

bit woozy. Zeke tears a piece of his hoodie, and without a word, he covers my

pressing on it,” he says, his

confusion etched on my

world seems hazy, the edges blurred by the persistent pain and the growing sense of faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands up, his expression hardened, and grabs Victor

to Victor’s face. The sounds of impact echo in the air, sharp and jarring. Victor stumbles backward, his hand flying to his nose, blood trickling between his fingers.

and menacing. “Lucky that I

of her

the air, a palpable threat that adds

strange mix

me, his eyes softening as he sees my bewildered expression. “I’m here, Alina. What

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 don’t know where

care.

Safe

me momentarily, and I feel a twinge of vulnerability. But then he returns with a water bottle, offering it to me. “Drink.” he instructs, and I obey, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

few sips, the water providing a momentary respite from the throbbing pain. Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We need to get you out of here,”

blurs, edges fading into a fog of confusion. Zeke’s voice cuts through

in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on, I need

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 happening, why there are growls and sirens echoing in the distance, but my words get

firm, a lifeline in the

and the growls intensify. It’s a cacophony that mirrors

his voice a grating interruption.

and callous. “Just f**k off and leave me alone

to nod, but it feels like

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

i cling to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me from sinking too

of chaos, each note playing a part in the disorienting melody that surrounds us. I want to ask Zeke what’s happening, why everything feels like it’s spiraling out

drawn to the metallic tang that hangs in the wind. And now, as I feel the warmth trickling down my neck, I can’t help but wonder if

on high alert. We’re not alone. I know it. The forest

flame. In those stories, the