He’d hidden himself beneath the pile of old clothes, bedding, and curtains that had been dumped in the far corner of Gil’s mezzanine sleeping area. It was a dump up there, but that had worked to his advantage: if anyone had peeked up, he’d have been well concealed within the mess. Every cell in his body had buzzed from lack of oxygen—he reckoned he’d pretty much not breathed properly the whole time they were there. His fingers had crept out first, reaching out from under the fusty fabric. Once he was fully out he’d stretched his back, cat-like, and pulled his pack out of the nest. He had no idea where Gil had gone, but was just glad that the place was finally empty after all the fuss.Now, an hour later and still alone, Freddie was sitting on the edge of Gil’s low bed. He took a bottle of water from his bag and drank half of it.On the one hand, Gil had been a savior, taking him in earlier, giving him food, keeping quiet when everyone had burst into the tack room. But on the other, he’d been a liability, causing such a commotion with his ridiculous antics.
