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But something growls behind me like a bear on a warpath.
I push at the pig’s snout and twist my neck, only to see the huge tires on the loader are a few feet away, rolling closer.
Oh, shit.
I throw myself forward, but the mud is so slick.
Jesus, I can’t.
I can’t catch my footing to save my life—to my horror, literally.
My heart pounds in my throat.
My life strobes before my eyes in spinning flashes.
This is so not how I wanted to die—sacrificing myself for porkball who’s still blissfully clueless about the imminent doom.
He nuzzles my hair like an overgrown dog, unfazed by the noise, which sounds like a tornado moving over us.
But there’s another noise then.
Loud shouting, and something hits me—hard.
A second later, I’m rolling, over and over. I think the pig is actually running after me as the whole world spins.
Sky. Dirt. Pig. More sky?
Tires.
More dirt. Mud. Sooo much mud.
Something grabs me—something steel-solid—and despite the dirt, the mud, and choking diesel fuel stink in the air, I swear to God I can smell something weirdly familiar.
A woodsy scent I’ve always liked.
I’m trying to place it when the mad roll finally stops. I may be boneless but at least nothing hurts.
I’m just...spent? Worn out? Or am I dead after all?
For a second, I wonder if the full-body tingling coursing through me is some kind of bizarre out-of-body experience.
Maybe I got squished by the loader after all.
But would I still hear men shouting if I’d thrown off my mortal coil like dirty socks world? The wild yelling definitely feels real.
And I feel something moving.
A person?
Hard, strangled breaths steam under me, kissing my neck. A pair of bulging arms hugs me tight, pinning me against a shield of a chest.
The pig?
Nah, pigs can’t hug.
And no pig feels like this, burly and strong and spectacularly man-shaped.
When I crack an eye open and my vision stops whirling, I see Porky again. He’s next to me, pushing a concerned grunt in my ear.
