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.

me, his expression a

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

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

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

wipe away tears of laughter, realizing that in this moment,

Victor’s failed attempt at claiming. It’s like a

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

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

confusion etched on my

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 by the collar.

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 one, is unleashing his fury on

Zeke growls, his voice low and menacing.

of

threat that adds another layer of tension. to

mix of gratitude

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

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 frankly, I

care.

Safe

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

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,” he says, his tone leaving no

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

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

reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst

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

and the growls intensify. It’s a

his voice

he declares, dismissive and callous. “Just f**k off

on my shoulder tightens, his eyes locking onto mine. “Ignore him, Alina. Focus on staying awake.” His words guide me through the disorientation. I try to nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The sirens, the growls, Victor’s dismissive words–they

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

voice, the anchor that keeps me from sinking

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 the

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. And now, as I feel the warmth trickling down my neck, I can’t help

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

to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not to