The Mating Run

Chapter 40

Expose

| remember, back in my neighborhood, there was this guy who owned a bunch of dogs-like, five of them. They were all different sizes and colors, but he loved them all the same. | used to watch him take care of those dogs, wondering how he managed to handle such a lively bunch.

One day, as | was passing by his house, | saw him doing something strange. One of his dogs had made a little mess on the floor, and instead of just cleaning it up, he grabbed the dog by the collar and pushed its nose into the urine. | was puzzled, watching this unfold from a distance. It seemed harsh, and | couldn’t quite grasp why he was doing it.

Curiosity got the better of me, and | decided to strike up a conversation with him about his unconventional method of dog training. | mean, | had never seen anyone do that before. As | approached him, he looked up from his task, a bit surprised that someone was taking an interest in his dog training techniques.

“Hey there,” | grested him, trying not to sound too nosy. “I noticed you doing something with your dog just now. What's that all about?”

He looked at me, and with a knowing smile, he explained, “Oh, that’s just a little trick | learned to train them not to mess indoors. It's all about teaching them a lesson, you know?

| was intrigued but also a bit skeptical. | mean, dogs are smart, but rubbing their noses in their own pee? It sounded a bit harsh to me. Still, | nodded, inviting him to share more about this curious method.

He started telling me how dogs have this incredible sense of smell and how associating the smell of their urine with a negative experience could discourage them from doing it indoors. | listened, absorbing his explanation like a sponge soaking up water.

He continued, describing the importance of timing and consistency in the training process. It wasn’t just about punishment; it was about creating a clear

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connection between the unwanted behavior and the consequence.

Dogs, he said, are quick learners, and if you get the timing right, they can understand what you want from them.

Victor, with his careless attitude and the chaos he’s left in his wake during this Mating Run. It’s like he’s been running amok, leaving destruction in his path without a care in the world. And | can’t help but think, what if | could make him face the consequences of his actions in a way that he understands?

The notion of metaphorically rubbing Victor’s face in the mess he’s created takes root in my mind. It’s not about physical harm but about making him confront the aftermath of his choices. Maybe, just maybe, it could be a way to teach him a lesson, a way to communicate the gravity of what he’s done.

It's not about revenge or cruelty. It’s about responsibility and accountability. The dogs, in that man’s care, needed to understand the connection between their actions and the consequences. Could the same principle be applied to Victor, who seems to roam through this Mating Run like it's some kind of game?

grab Victor by the collar and pull him out of his cushy shack. He’s shouting, protesting, but I’m past the point of caring about his tantrums. This is about consequences, about making him face the aftermath of his reckless actions during this chaotic Mating Run.

His screams ring in my ears, but | don’t let it faze me. Instead, | guide him forcefully towards a thick branch, the rough bark pressing against his back. He stumbles, and for a moment, he seems disoriented — a rare sight for someone who usually walks with the arrogance of a king. But not today.

| shove him against the branch, not too harshly but enough to let him feel the weight of his own body against the sturdy wood. He glares at me, anger flashing in his eyes, but I’m on a mission, a mission to show him the consequences of his

deeds.

Victor, always treating everything like a joke, a game. But not this time. “Stay still,” | order, my voice firm. He smirks, as if he finds the whole situation Ill

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amusing, as if my actions are merely a prelude to some twisted entertainment. But I’m not playing games. This is real, and he’s about to learn just how real it is.

His defiance only fuels my determination. With a swift motion, | pounce on him, pinning him to the ground. His protests turn into a mix of surprise and annoyance. Maybe he didn’t expect me to take such bold action, to confront him head-on,

| check his pockets, searching for something, anything that can serve as a tangible representation of the chaos he’s caused. Victor squirms beneath me, treating the whole ordeal like a joke, like I’m about to assault him. But I’m not here for physical harm — I'm here for something that will make him understand.

Aslap lands on his cheek, the sound echoing in the forest. | can see the shock in his eyes, the momentary break in his arrogant facade. “Shut up,” | command, my patience wearing thin. He’s always had a way of pushing buttons, but not today. Today is about consequences.

| continue my search, my fingers delving into his pockets. His attempts at witty remarks and smirks fall on deaf ears. | need to find it, that one thing that will serve as a symbol of the destruction he’s left in his wake.

Finally, my fingers brush against something familiar — a rectangular shape. | pull it out, a cigarette pack. Victor's eyebrows raise, as if to say, “Is this what you were looking for?” But it’s not just the cigarettes; it's what comes next that will drive the point home.

Digging further, | find a lighter. The missing piece to the puzzle. He doesn’t get it. Not yet.

I rise from my position, leaving him on the ground. The forest is still, as if awaiting the next move in this impromptu play of consequences. Victor dusts himself off, smirking again, thinking he’s outsmarted me somehow.

But | have a plan. 217

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The flickering flame of the lighter illuminates the darkness as | approach Victor’s shack, a determination burning within me. The forest, with its ancient trees and hidden secrets, seems to hold its breath, as if anticipating the climax of this

confrontation. sme

Victor his eyes narrowing as he realizes my intent. “What are you doing, Alina?” he sneers, the arrogance still lingering in his voice. But I'm beyond

words; actions speak louder.

The shack, once a haven for Victor's careless whims, stands before me — a symbol of his disregard for the consequences of his actions. With the lighter in hand, | hover over the corner of the structure, the flame dancing on the tip of the

metallic wand.

“This is for everything you’ve done,” | mutter, my voice low but resolute. The forest, with its ancient wisdom, becomes a silent witness to the impending act. The lighter descends, and the flame meets the wooden surface.

It catches.

The shack ignites, the flames devouring the wood like a hungry beast. Victor’s eyes widen, panic setting in. “You're insane, Alina! What the hell are you doing?”

Victor shouts, his voice a desperate plea. But I’ve made up my mind.

The fire rages, the crackling flames echoing through the forest. The shack, once a symbol of Victor’s carefree existence, is now consumed by the inferno. The orange glow casts dancing shadows on the trees, creating a chaotic ballet of light and darkness.

Victor lunges at me, his anger transforming into a desperate attempt to stop. the destruction. “You'll pay for this!” he roars, his hands reaching for me. But | sidestep his advance, the flames acting as a barrier between us.

| can feel the heat on my face, the warmth of the fire intensifying with each passing second. Victor, in a fit of desperation, tackles me to the ground. The impact

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jars my body, but | don’t resist. The shack is already ablaze, and no physical. altercation can change that.

The flames reflect in Victor's eyes, mirroring the chaos he’s wrought. “You've lost your mind!” he snarls, pinning me to the ground. But I just laugh, a manic sound. that blends with the crackling of the fire.

“It's all burning, Victor. If | burn, you burn with me.” | retort, my laughter echoing through the fiery chaos.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

The shack continues to burn, the flames reaching higher, licking the sky like hungry tongues. The crackling sound is deafening, drowning out the echoes of Victor’s protests. The forest, with its ancient trees, stands witness to the unraveling

drama.

| manage to break free from Victor’s grasp, the flames casting a wild glow on our entangled bodies. He watches, helpless, as | stand, my laughter ringing throught the chaos. “This is your consequence, Victor. Face it!” | declare, my voice cutting through the roar of the fire.

His eyes widen, a mix of rage and shock. “You're enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accuses, as if my laughter is a confirmation of his worst suspicions. And in that moment, | am. | revel in the chaos, in the destruction that mirrors the havoc he’s sown.

As the shack crumbles in on itself, a shower of sparks ascending to the night sky, Victor launches himself at me again. But it’s too late. The flames have claimed their victory, reducing the structure to embers and memories.

| laugh like a maniac, the sound echoing through the clearing. “You thought your could play without consequences, Victor. Welcome to reality!” | taunt, the flames reflecting in my eyes. The forest, with its eternal presence, seems to absorb the remnants of the blaze.

Victor, defeated and furious, glares at me. “You'll regret this, Alina. | promise you that,” he seethes, his threats lost in the crackling symphony of the dying fire. But | don’t care. In this moment, the burning shack is a metaphor for the chaos he

4/7 0834 SALG N unleashed, a tangible representation of consequences.

The night air carries the scent of burnt wood, a poignant reminder of the reckoning that unfolded. The forest with its ancient trees as silent witnesses, stands unaffected by the turmoil below. The flames may have consumed the shack, but the consequences will linger in the air, a lingering reminder of the choices,

made I step away from the fading blaze, the remnants of Victor’s shack now reduced to smoldering ruins

The forest is sent, except for the crackling embers and Victor's frustrated grumbling. | watch him sift through the remments of his burned—down shack, his annoyance evident in the way he curses under his breath. The air is thick with the sorid scent of charred wood, a stark reminder of the chaos we find ourselves in.

Victor's hands move hastily through the ash and rubble, desperately searching for something salvageable. He’s muttering, his voice a low growl, a testament to his aggravation. The forest, with its ancient trees towering overhead, seems to absorb the tension that hangs in the air.

Asharp hiss cuts through the quiet as Victor’s fingers make contact with a smoldering piece of debris. He recoils, his burnt fingertips meeting the cool air, and frustration etches deeper lines on his face. It’s a scene of desperation, a futile attempt to reclaim what's lost in the aftermath of chaos.

I stand at a distance, watching the spectacle unfold. Victor shoots me accusatory glances, his anger now directed at the invisible force that orchestrated the destruction. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a burning resentment within them.

“Damn it, Alina! Look what you’ve done!” he exclaims, his words punctuated by the frustration that boils within him. | resist the urge to roll my eyes as | hear his accusations. He’s blaming me, but it was his own recklessness that led to this fiery

end.

| can’t help it - a laugh escapes my lips, a mixture of amusement and defiance. “You played with fire, Victor. What did you expect?”

Expose

His burnt fingers clench into fists, and the remnants of his carefree attitude are replaced by a simmering rage. “This isn’t a joke, Alina! My things, my shelter — all gone because of your insanity-!”

I cut him off with a smile. “Familiar, isn’t it?” <