Page 40 of Bridget & Gabe Are Not Okay

“How are wesupposedto look for it then?” Arthur said, slightly too loud. Sidney shushed him.

Gabriel shrugged, and turned back to the path ahead. “If you see a Beast, you’ll know.”

“Process of elimination. You got that, Sid?”

“Shut up, let me concentrate. I’m shifting into Beast mode.”

They were going along in this fashion, their guide stalwart ahead, Arthur and Sidney whispering, Gabriel and Sir Hurst ignoring them in silence, when John’s wiry little terrier burst from the undergrowth, yapping sharply at them in warning.

Sir Hurst held up his hand for all to stop. “I think we ought to—”

So much hell broke loose so quickly that, for a moment, Gabriel thought that they were under attack on all sides from some new enemy.

Reality was not much kinder: There was something thundering toward them, screaming with gusto. It was a boar, and it wasenormous. Five feet of pure muscle, a thick shaggy coat, tusks twice as long as Gabriel’s forearm; in any other circumstance, his first emotion would have been pure awe. It still was, for half a heartbeat—and then the boar skidded to a snorting halt, Sir Hurst drew his sword with a shout of warning, Gabriel’s horse reared, and the more appropriate reaction—pure panic—flooded his veins.

Gabriel grappled for the reins as Penelope shied backward, threatening to rear again. He was all turned around; he couldn’t see the boar anymore, which felt like a very bad sign. Someone was saying, “Shit, shit, shit,” against a cacophony of raised voices and many horses approaching, presumably the guards drawn by Sir Hurst’s cry.

He was shouting “Go!”now, clearly aimed at Gabriel, but his horse still wasn’t having any of it. He had just managed to regain control and was trying to turn her when someone slapped her hard on the rump. She did the only sensible thing, and bolted.

Gabriel flung himself down over her neck and closed his eyes, so that if they did run headlong into any low-hangingtrees, at least he wouldn’t know he’d been decapitated until his head hit the ground.

Penelope was a well-behaved horse, even when pushed this far past her limits, so she didn’t run for very long. Once the immediate terror had passed, she slowed to a snorting walk, keeping her head held high and ready to spot any new dangers that might befall them.

“Good girl,” Gabriel said, easing upright and patting her neck. “That’s it, Penny, it’s all right. I’m sorry about the boar.”

He listened for company, and heard nothing but the staccato disagreements of small birds overhead. They weren’t on a game trail anymore, but had found themselves in an area where the trees were less dense, the muddy ground swelling and falling around a small, leaf-clogged stream. There were absolutely no clues as to what direction they had come from or should be going. His guards must have been searching for him—if they weren’t still locked in battle with an indignant pig—but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Right,” Gabriel said. “Hmm.”

A noise from behind startled both him and Penelope, and Gabriel braced for the boar in hot pursuit before realizing that he was being approached by a horse and rider.

“Jesus,” panted Arthur. “I thought you’d been eaten alive by the hog from hell.” He was red in the face and quite sweaty; his horse just looked quite annoyed.

“No.” Gabriel felt lightheaded, watching Arthur slide from his horse and stumble when he hit the uneven ground, grabbing the stirrup for balance. “I think Sir Hurst… I think he encouraged Penelope to run, to get us out of—”

“Yeah, that’s what he did to me too. Nice of him. The guards showed up, but it was chaos, everybody waving their swords around. I guess you’re too valuable and I’m too muchof a liability. Luckily my horse fancies your horse, because I think he just chased after her. Haven’t seen any of the others.”

Arthur’s stallion did seem to be making eyes at Penelope. This was somewhat grounding, as horses often were. Gabriel gingerly eased himself from the saddle—one more thing that he’d had to relearn one-handed, harder than the riding part even—until his feet found mostly solid ground.

“What’s his name?” Gabriel asked, nodding to the horse, desperate for distraction.

“Oh God, he’s calledSteed. I didn’t name him, he’s on loan from your stables. The head groom said that as I’m a reasonable rider I should have a good, hearty courser… the implication being that he might compensate for the rest of me.”

“I’m sure that’s… not what he meant.”

“He said, ‘It might be a good idea, considering,’ and then he never voiced the considerations. I joined the dots myself. Are you all right?”

Gabriel was not all right. His fingertips had gone numb, and his mouth felt sort of cold and fuzzy, like he’d brushed it against something mildly poisonous. He said, “Um,” and then found he couldn’t say anything more.

“Sit down,” Arthur said, and when Gabriel didn’t move, Arthur took an awkward half step toward him and then, more boldly, took him by the elbow. “Sit,” he said again, and Gabriel let himself be guided down onto a slightly damp tree stump, bright worms of light wriggling in the muddy recesses of his vision.

“I’m all right, I just feel a bit…”

“Yeah,” Arthur said sternly, “that’s because you’re not really breathing. You’re sort of gasping a bit, and then not breathing at all, and what you want to do is find a happy medium between the two.”

“Mmm,” Gabriel hummed, noticing that he was right, but not sure how to course-correct. It wasn’t something he was doing on purpose. He took in a ragged breath, pressing his hand into the soggy grooves of the tree stump, wondering distantly if he might be about to faint as his heart pounded bloodily against his rib cage.

“Hey,” Arthur said, and then his hand was on Gabriel’s back, resting on his shoulder blade. It would have been excruciatingly nice if Gabriel could have enjoyed it. “Are you hurt? Where?”