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.

a

act of biting should have automatically triggered a cosmic connection. I can’t

back. “You bit a huge chunk of her flesh, Victor. That’s all you did. Congratulations,

tension and absurdity. Victor’s

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

liberation. 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

I feel a bit woozy. Zeke

says, his

him, confusion etched

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

a daze as Zeke delivers two swift punches 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 unfolding before me. Zeke, the usually calm and composed

and menacing. “Lucky that I

care of

the air, a palpable threat that adds another layer

strange mix of gratitude and confusion.

back to me, his eyes softening as he sees my bewildered expression.

of torn hoodie feels rough against my skin as I press it onto the bleeding wound. The pain intensifies, but Zeke’s presence is a reassuring constant. I steal a

care.

Safe

returns with a water bottle, offering it to me. “Drink.” he instructs, and I obey, the cool liquid soothing

few sips, the water providing a momentary respite from the throbbing pain. Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We

world around me blurs, edges fading into a fog of confusion. Zeke’s voice cuts through the haze, urgent

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

shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos. I want to ask him what’s happening, why there are growls and sirens

voice is firm, a lifeline in the growing storm. I blink, struggling

and the growls intensify. It’s a

Victor scoff, his

time for dramatics,” he declares, dismissive and callous. “Just f**k off and leave me alone this time, you f**kers hear me?”

awake.” His words guide me through the disorientation. I try to nod, but it

matches the ominous sounds in

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

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 of control, but

It’s like 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.

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

stories, whispered tales of creatures lurking in the shadows, drawn to the scent of blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not