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.

his expression a mix of confusion

protests again, as if the act of biting should have automatically triggered a cosmic connection. I can’t help but shake my head. The simplicity of his logic is almost endearing, in a comically clueless way.

chunk of her flesh, Victor. That’s all you did.

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

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

Liberated from the 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, replaced by the lightness of laughter.

and I feel a bit woozy. Zeke tears a piece of his hoodie, and without a word,

pressing on it,” he says, his voice steady.

confusion etched on

the growing sense of faintness. But Zeke doesn’t

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. I blink, trying to make sense of the scene

his voice low and menacing. “Lucky that I

of her

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

a strange mix of gratitude and

to me, his eyes softening as he sees my bewildered expression. “I’m here, Alina. What do you need?”

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 don’t know where he’s going, and frankly, I

care.

Safe

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

Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We need to get you out of

blood, the world around me blurs, edges fading into a fog

lifeline in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on,

I’m sinking into a dark pool. The pain in my neck throbs, a persistent reminder of Victor’s reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying

Alina,” Zeke’s voice is firm, a lifeline in the

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

his voice a grating interruption.

f**k off and leave me alone this time, you

nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The sirens, the growls, Victor’s dismissive words–they all swirl around me, a chaotic dance that threatens to pull

ominous sounds in the distance.

to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that

more menacing, and the sirens intensify. It’s like a symphony 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

tang that hangs in the wind. And now, as I feel the warmth trickling down my neck, I can’t help

tension of his shoulders, the way his eyes scan the surroundings like a hunter on high alert. We’re not alone. I know it. The forest seems to hold its breath, and I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. The scent of my blood, a vulnerable invitation

blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not to bleed, not to become prey to the