The Mating Run by Leeka

Run

Darkness surrounds me.

I hear echoes, fragments of sound, and the world flickers in and out like a dying flame. Zeke’s voice, a distant murmur, reaches me like ripples in a quiet pond. I try to focus, to make sense of the fragments, but everything slips away like sand through my fingers.

I feel the rhythmic beat of Zeke’s steps, a steady cadence that carries me through the darkness. His arms around me, a secure cocoon in the disorienting haze. I’m aware, on the edges of consciousness, that we’re moving, running somewhere. Zeke’s growls, low and protective, punctuate the darkness like distant thunder.

In and out.

That’s how I drift.

Sometimes the darkness swallows me whole, and other times I catch fleeting glimpses of the world outside. Zeke’s growls become a familiar lullaby, a comforting melody that cuts through the confusion. I want to ask where we’re going, what’s happening, but the words remain trapped in the fog that envelops my mind.

I feel the jostle of movement, the sensation of being carried, and Zeke’s growls intensify. Are we running from something? Are we running towards safety? The questions linger, but the answers remain elusive. All I know is the rhythmic beat of Zeke’s steps and the growls that weave through the darkness like a protective

shield.

Zeke’s rumbling, a deep vibration that resonates through his chest, reaches me in the cocoon of his arms. It’s a sound both primal and comforting, a reminder that I’m not alone in this disorienting journey through the unknown. The darkness threatens to pull me under, but Zeke’s presence becomes a lifeline, a connection that anchors.me in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty.

I hear him muttering, the words a blend of reassurance and urgency.

“Hold on, Alina,” he says, his voice cutting through the fog. “Just, hold on!”

Hold on to what? I wonder, but the question dissipates like a fleeting dream. Zeke’s arms tighten around me, a protective embrace that shields me from the unknown dangers that lurk in the darkness.

In the moments of consciousness, I catch glimpses of Zeke’s face. His eyes,

focused and determined, meet mine.

“We’re almost there.”

He murmurs, and I nod, or at least I think I do.

The fog within me is thick, a swirling tempest that blurs the edges of reality. But Zeke’s words become a guiding light, a promise of sanctuary in the midst of

chaos.

We keep moving. Running, perhaps towards safety, perhaps away from danger. The darkness clings to me like a heavy cloak, and Zeke’s growls become a protective shield that guards against the unknown.

My arms feel heavy and limp, like they’re not really mine.

I try to lift them, but they resist, as if they belong to someone else. There’s a fog in my mind, a persistent haze that blurs the edges of everything. I long let of

the makeshift bandage I pressed against the wound on my neck. It

in the disorienting fog. I can feel his movements, his hands working. He presses a new cloth against the wound, against the source of

for the steady hands that

can’t.

muttering, his voice a distant

of keeping them open feeling like a monumental task. I let them close, surrendering to

blood, the fog that envelops me–but everything feels like fragments, pieces of a puzzle scattered in the disarray. I focus on

the words a soothing melody in the dissonant symphony. Great at

aware, vaguely, of Zeke’s movements. His growls, softer now, add a layer of reassurance to the symphony of sounds. He’s pressing a kiss to the side of my head,

arms around me, a steady cocoon in the midst of the tempest. That’s what they’re doing–chasing

roar, cuts through the chaos.

from us!” he screams, the words a fierce declaration that reverberates through the

Keep away. Mine.

weight of possessiveness, a claim that should irk me, frustrate me.

the midst of pursuit, I

Run

possessiveness, usually a source of frustration, becomes a shield against the encroaching danger. The footsteps, the snarls–they’re like distant shadows the periphery of our shared sanctuary. I feel Zeke’s arms tighten around me, protective

he murmurs, the words like a gentle breeze in the storm. “I

words carry an unspoken promise, a commitment that I feel more than understand. In this moment, I let go of the

open my eyes, I’m greeted by this intense darkness that feels like a

Where am I?

my mind, a persistent

sharp pain shooting through my neck. It hurts.

my neck, a makeshift bandage that hints at a story I can’t quite grasp. I press on it, feeling the texture of

warmth beneath.

foggy disorientation that clouds

“W–what…?”

the solidity of my surroundings. The fire dances in the corner, casting flickering shadows that play on the cave walls. The warmth

TL-

handaand around

searching for any sign of life, any clue to the mystery that shrouds me. But the cave remains silent, as if holding

say,

edges of my consciousness. I’m alone in a cave, my surroundings unfamiliar, and my

I can’t fit into the larger picture. I inspect the leaves, running my fingers over their edges,

the fire. I reach for it, my fingers fumbling with the clasps. The bag feels heavy, and my curiosity intensifies. What’s inside? Will it hold the answers

the bag, revealing its contents. Items–a medley of objects that offer no immediate explanation. A water flask, a few supplies, and a piece of folded paper. I grab the paper, unfolding it with

A map.

the map, groaning in frustration as I massage my

The sudden jolt propels me to my feet. Panic grips me like a vice, tightening with each heartbeat. The cave, once a sanctuary, feels like a trap closing in on me. I strain