(I just want to pause here really quickly to say that I don’t buy into damsel-in-distress tropes. Okay? I was raised by two queer women.

I know that the notion of a woman needing to be saved as a motivator for the protagonist is really just contributing to the romanticization of women as victims, and the whole thing takes away from women’s, or really anyone other than a cis white male protagonist’s, agency.

I get that.)

Anyway! I just didn’t want you to think I was, like, all happy to be rescuing Gilly.

Except that I was clearly feeling just really elated, not just that she was okay, but that I was standing there and she needed my help.

Don’t tell Millie and Lucy.

“He fricking slipped in a puddle and took off right past the fence.” Gilly threw her hands up, revealing palms also caked in mud. “I fell out of the saddle and I couldn’t get my foot out of the stirrup, so he basically just dragged me through the mud for like thirty feet.”

“Oh my gosh! Does that happen, like, a lot?”

Why do people ride horses if that can happen?

“Yeah, I mean, it can.” Gilly pulled a twig out of her hair. “I lost my phone too, so I’m really glad you came along. You’re kind of a lifesaver.”

I leaned down next to her and watched with alarm as she winced. “Are you, like, hurt? Like broken bones or anything?”

“I think my ankle’s sprained.” Gilly leaned back. “And I scratched my leg pretty good.”

That’s when I saw.

Blood.

A huge spot of blood on Gilly’s pant leg.

Hurk!

A swell of familiar nausea washed over me.

Gilly’s eyes popped open in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I, uh.” I attempted to take a deep breath. I closed my eyes and tilted my head toward the sky, like someone trying to surface from a very deep dive.

Please, oh please, Anne, do not pass out. Not in the middle of this possibly heroic moment. Not that it has to be heroic or that that means Gilly is a vi ctim —

“You look, like, not okay.” Gilly leaned forward to touch my shoulder. “You look kind of green.”

The dissonance between the feeling of Gilly touching my arm and the feeling of deep vertigo was Alice in Wonderland -ian.

“Really?” I took shallow breaths. A wave of cold washed over my face. “Um, sorry I, just a second, just.”

“Oh!” I heard Gilly shift. “Oh, are you, like, scared of blood?”

Yes.

“Um. A little? I’m so sorry; that’s so super embarrassing.”

Please don’t barf, please don’t barf on Gilly, Anne, I beg you.

“What? Ah!” Gilly cried. “Okay. Just, um, just hold on a second.” There was some scuffling. “Hold on.”

“Holding.”

“Um.”