Page 39 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“That’s the mother cat, I’d wager, and it’s dead. Gored by something.”

“Oh, poor thing,” said Gwen, earning her an odd look from John.

Nose’s ears pricked up again, and this time he didn’t wait for permission before dashing off into the bushes. John didn’t seem to mind.

Gwen was still frowning down at the den’s deceased occupant. “So… was that the Beast? Or was it killed by the Beast?”

John, affronted, drew himself up to his full height. “The Beast has the body of a lion and the wings of a dragon, and it is black as night.”

“That dead cat is sort of black, in places,” Bridget pointed out. “And enormous.”

Diplomatic as always, Gwen ventured, “Are youquitesure this couldn’t have been the Beast? I mean, we haven’t seen all of it, it might have wings. Or maybe… maybe whatever killed it chewed them off. And now it’s dead, so perhaps your livestock will be safe.”

John relented slightly. “Suppose it might,” he said. “We’ll have to bring some of the boys in, dig this out, get a good look at it. But yeah. I suppose itmighthave been the Beast.”

Eighteen

Gabriel’s research had produced many different opinions about the Questing Beast. In the accounts he’d read, it sometimes barked like a dog, was either very long or very tall, perhaps had spots, and was also maybe the offspring of a demon and a normal human woman. Other experts agreed that none of the above was true, and it was actually quite a nice-looking little creature, dainty and pleasant to behold, except for the fact that its own children were trying to eat it alive from the inside, which was sort of religiously allegorical and suitably weird in the way that such things often were.

It was also supposed to be long-dead; slain by Sir Palamedes, or maybe felled by natural causes after a long and healthy lifespan of some hundred years. There were quite a few noblemen who claimed to have chunks of Beast on display or contained in reliquaries in their houses, although for all of these claims to be true, the Beast would have needed to be sooutrageously large that it called into question why it had taken King Pellinore and Sir Palamedes quite so long to hunt down this hulking, landscape-dominating behemoth.

Still, the idea that there might be some very interesting and perhaps rare species inhabiting the woods was a scintillating thought.

“I can see you’re very excited,” Arthur said as they rode together, the guards doing as bidden and disappearing into the foliage around them.

“How?” Sidney asked, from Gabriel’s other side. “He’s frowning.”

“Yes, but that’s his excited frown. It’s different from the usual one.”

The peace between them was too fragile for Gabriel to speak and doubtless ruin it. It felt something like hope to hear Arthur talk to him like this, like he was a real person, and one who Arthur didn’t hate. It had been so long since their conversations had been anything but deeply fraught, every silence a gaping chasm, every word a snagged fingernail. Just offering to ride along felt like such a big olive branch, he was practically offering Gabriel the whole tree.

“Your Majesty,” Sir Hurst said, looking back over his shoulder, perpetually concerned but especially troubled at this very minute. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” Gabriel replied. “Just… excited.”

“I knew it,” Arthur said triumphantly, obviously speaking to Sidney now, but stillaboutGabriel.AcrossGabriel.

Such tragic little victories were not to be sniffed at.

“We should be quiet,” Gabriel said, preemptively cutting himself off from saying anything foolish. “We don’t want to frighten it away.”

They clopped on through the forest, following their guide down a twisty trail through the undergrowth that narrowed and necessitated they ride single file, which obviously upset Sir Hurst deeply. If the Captain of the Guard had his way, Gabriel would never travel anywhere without about thirty men riding in constant circles around him in a three-layer-deep perimeter with him at the center, like the hidden pit of some insane fruit.

Actually, if Sir Hurst had his way, Gabriel wouldn’t be allowed to travel at all. Right now, this sounded quite peaceful. They would likely call him the Hermit King, but why would he care? From his library, he wouldn’t be able to hear them.

It was an old forest, mossy, the ground soft with leaves. As they rode, Gabriel started jumping at the sight of any slightly interesting shape, his heart pounding before he realized all he’d spied was a fat stick or a tree stump that looked a little like a cooked turkey.

“What are we actually looking for?” Arthur whispered from behind Gabriel.

“I have no idea,” Sidney whispered back. “I actually thought it was a rabbit? Like… just a big rabbit?”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not a rabbit.”

“What is it then?”

“Um…” There was quite a long pause as Arthur thought. “A badger?”

“It’s not a badger,” Gabriel said quietly, twisting in the saddle so that he was almost looking at Arthur, but not quite. “It’s not supposed to be any known animal.”