“Andi!” I shout, already shifting my weight on the branch.
“I’M FINE!” she shouts back. “IT CAN’T REACH ME.”
But then I see snout again, a quick glimpse above the boulder, and fuckthat. I grab the branch sideways and half-slither, half-launch myself off it, scraping the shit out of my leg in the process and landing in the snow next to the knife. It’s a folding pocketknife, the blade maybe three inches long, but I grab it anyway and run.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?” Andi yelps, high-pitched and all one word.
I don’t answer her as I come up to the boulder, dart around the side, and brandish my knife.
“HEY!” I shout, and the hog looks over at me, its front feet up on the boulder. Even though it’s big it’s still a good two feet from Andi’s shoes, and it’s not getting any closer.
“Gideon?!”
“Shoo,” I tell it, firmly as I can, sweating hard and shoulders heaving and panting for breath. “Go on. Get outta here.”
It takes its hooves off the rock with a little bounce, settles them on the ground, and stares at me.
Shit.
The thing about being human is that most animals are scared of you, even the big ones. A black bear would far rather leave the area than get close to a human, and mountain lions are notoriously secretive. The worst I’ve ever really dealt with are deer who’ve gotten used to handouts, and even those are pretty skittish.
Then it trots for me, and I’m just about out of ideas, so I roar. It’s somewhere between a scream and a shout and a bellow, and it works because the hog stops in its tracks and even backs up a little. Up on the boulder I can hear Andi sayholy fuck!
When I stop, the forest is incredibly quiet, and I get the distinct impression that every tree is staring at me, in addition to the hog and Andi. I think I could hear a single snowflake fall. The hog snorts, breath steaming in front of it, and inspiration strikes in the form of a fist-sized rock next to my right foot.
I get the hog right in the ribcage, and it squeals that horrible rusty-brakes squeal, backing off a little. The next one has it turned and trotting away, and I throw one more after it for good measure, thudding uselessly onto the ground in the half-melted snow.
Once it’s gone there’s a long, long silence. I’m still tense, still holding my stupid pocketknife, one more rock in my hand just in case. I’m panting and a little lightheaded with adrenaline and my heart’s beating so fast and hard it feels syncopated, like it can’t quite keep up with itself.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask Andi, once I’m pretty sure it’s gone for good.
“I’m fine,” she says. “What the fuck wasthat?”
“No idea,” I say, carefully folding the knife. “I’ve never seen one act like that before, maybe it was—”
“No, what the fuck wereyoudoing?” she asks, and her voice has a sharp edge to it, like broken glass. She’s still standing on the boulder, four feet up in the air, her feet slightly apart and her back straight and behind her are the black fingers of dormant trees reaching for a steel-gray sky, and I don’t have a good answer.
“I was doing exactly what you said, standing on this rock well out of hog-bite range, and I was perfectlyfineand then you come running hell for leather andpoint a pocketknife at it,” she goes on. Now her fists are balled at her sides and her voice sounds strange, all rough and strangled. I snap the pocketknife shut without looking.
“I thought you were in danger,” I say, and I cross my arms and puff my chest out a little because Idid, shewas, and now she’s mad about it?
“I told you I wasn’t.”
“I know, but—”
“Do you think I can’t tell when a glorified farm animal isn’t gonna rock climb up to where I am?” she asks, and she’s talking fast and high, panic and fury and something else threaded through her voice. “It didn’t come within two feet of me! It was getting bored! It was about to leave until you ran over!”
“I wanted to help!”
“You did!” she says, and now she’s shouting even louder and she waves her arms in the air, her voice breaking. “You helped by telling me what to do in the first place! Which I was doing! EFFECTIVELY! Which I told you!”
I clench my jaw and look away, my hands tightening into fists because how dare she, howdareshe shout at me like this when I just risked life and limb to chase off an animal that could’ve easily killed her.
Could it have?A tiny, unwelcome voice in the back of my head asks. I ignore it.
“I was afraid you’d get hurt,” I say through my teeth, not looking directly at Andi, all anger and righteousness, standing against the sky like some kind of Valkyrie. “So, I came over and dealt with the problem.”
“By putting yourself in danger!” she says, and now her hands are over her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she sounds shaky. “Gideon, that’s not—that’s so fucking stupid and reckless, oh myGod. You can’t do that.”
