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.

expression a mix of confusion and

of biting should have automatically triggered a cosmic connection. I can’t help but shake

a huge chunk of her flesh, Victor. That’s all

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

realizing that in this moment,

and magical connections. Liberated from the weight of Victor’s failed attempt

bleeding. The pain throbs in my neck, and I feel a bit woozy. Zeke tears a piece of his hoodie,

his voice steady. “But

etched on my face.

edges blurred by the persistent pain and the growing sense of faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands

the air, sharp and jarring. Victor stumbles backward, his hand flying to his nose, blood

voice low and

of her first.”

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

a strange mix of gratitude and

back to me, his eyes softening as he sees 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

care.

Safe

returns with a water bottle, offering it

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

fog of confusion. Zeke’s voice

eyes open.” he says, his words a lifeline in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on,

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

in the growing storm. I blink, struggling to keep my eyes open. “Please.”

wail, a mournful symphony, and the growls intensify. It’s a

his voice

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

I try to 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 me

growl that matches the ominous sounds in the distance. The world is dimming, the edges of

Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me from sinking too deep.

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

to it, 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

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

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