He tenses as the kelpies start pushing the woman around, grunting a little as he struggles upright himself. He winces at the pull of his old scars, the calculations pouring through his mind that all factor in the reality that he's not young enough to outrun these things.

"Deep breaths," he says, his voice still even and calm. "Whatever they're planning, they want us awake and aware, which we can use to our advantage."

Whatever they're planning, as though he doesn't have a sneaking suspicion already that his rational mind rejects entirely. This feels like a nightmare, a very vivid nightmare, like he's going to bolt awake at any moment to discover his bones aching because he fell asleep at his desk.

Then the kelpies are gathering skins, heading their way, and he grunts again, twisting so he can get one knee under him and force himself half-upright, putting himself squarely between Meredith and the approaching kelpies. One of the kelpies slashes a person's bonds, then immediately tosses the skin over them, and Gil watches with brief horror before seeing their chance. Meredith's chance, at least.

"When that thing cuts the ropes on your wrists, you run, all right? As far and as fast as you can. I'll buy you a little time. You can get help."