Great. Worse and worse again. “Okay. We can deal with this. Come on. Let’s go… that way. Away from the dead bodies.”
I get an irritated frown from Shashi, whoisapparently okay with that sort of thing, but she’s soon putting one foot in front of the other, the lot of us threading through thick forest, back the way we came.
“It’s not so bad,” Jon narrates. “There’s probably food here. I’m sure we could catch a rabbit or something.”
“Oh yeah?” Asshole August laughs. “You’re an experienced hunter?”
“Mmhmm. I always get what I’m after.” He throws a lascivious smile at Asshole August, who responds with one of his own.
It’s sickening.
But also… kind of not?
On the one hand, I think Jon would sleep with literally any August, even me, and that makes me think he’s not over my August at all.
On the other, my August, who’s never once left my side in all of this, looks amused. Happy. He’s not jealous, which reassures me deeply. And to be fair, Jon’s been nothing but nice to me since he and August saved my life. From that other August’s hands, of course, but we can’t all be perfect.
I kind of wish it were them who had the responsibility of world-smashing sex because… honestly, I worry August is going to tire of me. It can’t be the best way to establish a new relationship. This should be fun, spontaneous.
But then his hand slips into mine, and that familiar tingle trails up my arm, down my spine.
Just touching him is magic. Anything else…
Yeah, okay. Maybe we should find a secluded spot soon…
We walk on and on, searching for one, and the stress of the morning falls away as the sun rises higher. It’s beautiful, old England. Something lost forever, replaced, perhaps, by different beautiful things, gorgeous Victorian buildings, Art Deco stations, different touches of different ages. But it’s special to be here and to experience this.
We cross several wooden fences. I have no idea where we are or whose land we’re on. There’s no suggestion among the group that we should head towards the city. In fact, I think we all have a natural inclination to avoid it and whatever worse trouble we could get into there.
By midday, I’m guessing from the position of the sun, we’re all weary, and I’m just about to suggest that nap when, “Found you!” a voice shouts out of nowhere.
A shot rings out, blasting a chunk of bark off a nearby tree.
Sharp pain cuts through me when my knee drops onto a rock, the whole group finding fallen logs and ancient tree trunks to hide behind, taking cover, trying to locate the shooter.
Still and tense, not one of us moves a muscle.
The cracking of sticks reaches us from off in the distance, but none of us are stupid enough to raise a head up to find the exact location.
Then we hear it. Barking.Dogs.
“Run!” August hisses.
All of us, no idea where we’re going, bolt. Anywhere, just away from that sound. Away from the next shot, ringing out through the woods. Away from snapping jaws and vicious barks, our breaths coming fast and hoarse in our throats as we scramble over branches, slicing our hands and legs on jagged wood.
Beauty turns to terror, bluebells crushed underfoot, faster, faster. A memory of the last time I was caught in a life or deathchase comes back on me. That bastard August and his ability to freeze people that I’d totally forgotten about. “August! Freeze them!”
“What?” my August shouts.
“Other August!”
“What?” he also shouts, breathlessly.
“Your freeze thing!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“There!” my August yells. “A river! Cross it!”
