Again, as if the world was being backdropped by overly enthusiastic special effects, the grey sky flashed with light, and a roll of thunder cracked so loudly, Bryson felt it. Beau squealed, bucked as high as his legs would take him, and dragged Bryson up with him. Bryson fumbled, almost stumbled, and as if it had been greased, Bryson’s phone shot out of his hand. It clattered on the packed ground of the trail. “Son of a bitch.”
He fought Beau back onto all four hooves, scooped up his phone, and cursed again when he saw the network of cracks on his screen. “You better f*****g work,” he mumbled, swiping the screen. His stomach flooded with relief butterflies when the home screen lit up. He hit the text icon at the exact same second that he received one from an unknown number.
Where r u? Do
