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
go the cloth, the makeshift bandage I pressed against the wound on my neck. It
lies somewhere, discarded, forgotten.
Zeke. His presence is a steady anchor in the disorienting fog. I can feel his
movements, his hands working. He presses a new cloth against the wound,
against the source of warmth that trickles down my neck.
I'm thankful, even in the haze, for the steady hands that take care of what I
can't.
I hear him muttering, his voice a distant echo. Words I can’t quite grasp.
Urgency, reassurance—-it's all woven into the fabric of his speech. My eyes flutter,
the effort of keeping them open feeling like a monumental task. I let them close,
surrendering to the darkness that tugs at the edges of my consciousness.
The new cloth is cool against my skin, a welcome contrast to the warmth that
lingers beneath. I try to make sense of it all-the wound, the blood, the fog that
envelops me-but everything feels like fragments, pieces of a puzzle scattered in
the disarray. I focus on the rhythmic beat of Zeke’s movements, a steady pulse in
the midst of uncertainty.
Zeke's voice, now closer, reaches me again. “You're doing great, Alina!” he
murmurs, the words a soothing melody in the dissonant symphony. Great at
what, I wonder, but the question slips away like sand through my fingers.
I'm 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, a tender gesture that ripples through the darkness. Gratitude swells within
me, a silent acknowledgment of the care he provides in the aftermath of chaos.
I hear a relentless rhythm that echoes through the chaos. Snarls, too, like distant
thunder in a storm. The world is a swirl of sounds, a cacophony of pursuit. Zeke’s
arms around me, a steady cocoon in the midst of the tempest. That's what
they're doing—chasing us. The footsteps are relentless, a reminder that danger is
a breath away. Zeke’s growls, a symphony of defiance, punctuate the air. I feel
the urgency, the need to escape, but the fog in my mind makes it all a distant
blur.
Zeke's voice, a primal roar, cuts through the chaos.
“Keep away from us!” he screams, the words a fierce declaration that
reverberates through the air. “She’s mine!”
Keep away. Mine.
The words hold a weight of possessiveness, a claim that should irk me, frustrate
me.
But this time, in the midst of pursuit, I melt into his arms.
Run
The 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 embrace that shields against the unseen threat.
“I won't let them hurt you, Alina,” he murmurs, the words like a gentle breeze in
the storm. “I won't.”
Hurt me. The words carry an unspoken promise, a commitment that I feel more
than understand. In this moment, I let go of the usual frustrations, allowing myself
to trust in the protective shield that Zeke provides.
As soon as I open my eyes, I'm greeted by this intense darkness that feels like a
heavy cloak. My breath catches, a sudden startle that jolts me into awareness.
Where am I?
The question echoes in my mind, a persistent whisper that demands answers.
I wince, a sharp pain shooting through my neck. It hurts.
I instinctively reach for the source of the pain, my fingers grazing against
something unexpected. Leaves pressed against my neck, a makeshift bandage
that hints at a story I can’t quite grasp. I press on it, feeling the texture of the
leaves, the
warmth beneath.
Confusion settles in, a foggy disorientation that clouds my thoughts.
“W-what...?”
The darkness, once intimidating, takes on the familiar contours of a cave. I sit up,
the movement cautious and slow, as if testing the solidity of my surroundings.
The fire dances in the corner, casting flickering shadows that play on the cave
walls. The warmth of the flames is a stark contrast to the coolness of the cave.
TL-
the lanung handaand around
my neck-they’re my only companions in this moment. I glance around, searching
for any sign of life, any clue to the mystery that shrouds me. But the cave
remains silent, as if holding its secrets close.
Safe to say, I'm panicking.
It hits me like a sudden gust of wind, a whirlwind that tugs at the edges of my
consciousness. I'm alone in a cave, my surroundings unfamiliar, and my neck
throbs with pain. Questions cascade through my mind, each one demanding
attention.
I press on the leaves again, as if expecting them to provide answers. The pain, a
constant reminder, feels like a puzzle piece I can't fit into the larger picture. I
inspect the leaves, running my fingers over their edges, feeling the way they are
carefully arranged. Someone did this for me, I realize, a surge of gratitude
mingling with the panic.
I glance towards the fire, hoping to find a clue in its dancing flames. A bag. That's
what I see a bag placed by 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 I'm desperately seeking?
I open the bag, revealing its contents. ltems—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 trembling hands.
A map.
The memories rush in like a tidal wave, and I can’t help but flinch. I let go of the
map, groaning in frustration as I massage my throbbing temples, huddled in a
ball with my knees tucked tightly against my chest.
I'm lost in the stillness, unaware of the approaching presence until a sudden
shuffle disrupts the tranquility. 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 my ears, listening intently to the approaching
footsteps, my mind racing with imagined threats.
That's my first thought—a faceless figure emerging from the shadows to claim
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me. Fear surges through my veins, a
primal instinct that heightens my
senses. I scramble to my feet, my
eyes scanning the darkness for any
sign of the intruder. The rock—strewn
floor becomes a potential battlefield,
and I grab the nearest stone, my
fingers closing around its rough
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me!”
“No!” I scream, shaking my head, pressing my back to the wall. “No, don't touch
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’ 2
That's what pierces the air—my own
voice, a desperate cry that echoes
through the cave. I brandish the rock
like a makeshift weapon, my eyes
wide with terror. The flames of the
fire cast distorted shadows on the
walls, adding a surreal touch to the
chaos unfolding in the confined
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“Alina!” The voice cuts through my panic, a familiar timbre that momentarily
freezes me in place. “Relax! It's just me! It's me! Zeke!”
Zeke.
The name registers in my mind, a lifeline in the storm of confusion. But distrust
lingers, and I tighten my grip on the rock, my eyes narrowing at the figure
emerging from the shadows.
Zeke raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Calm down, Alina.”
The words collide with the turmoil in my mind, an invitation to relinquish the
weapon in my hand. But trust is elusive, and I take a step back, the rock still
poised
for defense.
The words unravel the tension in my muscles, a realization that the threat I
imagined was nothing more than a figment of my fear. Zeke steps into the light,
his features familiar yet shrouded in the eerie glow of the fire.
“It's just me,” he repeats, his hands still raised in a gesture of non-hostility. “Can
you put the rock down? Please?”
1 blink, my eyes adjusting to the reality before me. A wave of relief washes over
me, but remnants of fear linger-like echoes in the cave. I lower the rock, the
weight of it suddenly apparent in my hand.
Zeke sighs, the sound carrying a hint of frustration.
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« I .
I was checking the perimeter,
: , » _ .
making sure we're safe,” he explains,
his hands now gesturing to the
darkness outside the cave.
Perimeter. Safe. The words offer an
explanation, but a thread of unease
AE B vi Mig ,
still lingers in the air. “I didn't mean to
” .
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I take a deep breath, the echoes of my scream still reverberating in the cave.
“You should've announced yourself,” I mutter, my eyes narrowing as I study his
face for any sign of deceit. “Where are we?”
“I don't know. I didn’t really come up with a plan,” he admits, the simplicity of his
words carrying a genuine quality. The admission softens the edges of my
lingering apprehension. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I glance at the fire, the flames now a calming presence in the aftermath of the
chaos.
“I'm fine,” I say, the words a reassurance to both of us. “Just... thank you, for
saving me.”
Zeke nods, his eyes reflecting sincerity.
“I will, every chance I get.”