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

cosmic connection. I can’t help but shake my head. The simplicity of his logic is almost endearing, in a

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

my being, a release of pent–up tension and absurdity. Victor’s face contorts with a mix of embarrassment and anger. It’s a priceless reaction, and

laughter, realizing that in

weight of Victor’s failed attempt at claiming. It’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders, replaced by the lightness of

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

it,” he says, his voice steady. “But not too

him, confusion etched on my face. Why?

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

to his nose, blood trickling between his fingers. I blink, trying to make

Zeke growls, his voice low and menacing. “Lucky that

of her

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

a strange mix of gratitude

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

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 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

care.

Safe

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

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,”

around me blurs, edges fading into a fog of

he says, his words a lifeline in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on, I need

Victor’s reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos. I want to ask

lifeline in the growing storm. I

the growls intensify.

hear Victor scoff, his voice

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

nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The

matches the ominous sounds in the distance. The world is dimming, the edges of consciousness slipping away like

i cling to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps

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

travels far. I’ve heard about certain animals being attracted to it, drawn to the metallic tang that hangs

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

to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not to bleed, not to become prey to the unseen dangers that roam