The trickling sounds of the creek grew louder as we approached. The bridge was closed and cordoned off with yellow tape, but ten feet away spanning the creek was an old moss-covered fallen log, its soft bark crumbled with decay. Fiona and Heather practically skipped across it to the other side. I slowed down.

“Hey, guys. Wait up!” I called as they rounded the corner, but they didn’t look back.

Icy prickles spread along my skin like frost forming on glass. I can do this, I thought, until I saw the eight-foot drop to the shallow streambed below. How had Heather and Fiona gotten across so easily? Knowing that thinking about it would only make it worse, I focused on the log, placing one foot carefully in front of the other.

I was halfway across when a crashing of branches rustled the trees in front of me. From behind me came a growl. That dog again—two of them! My back tensed and I almost lost my balance. I had just righted myself when a smoky black canine with glowing red eyes came charging out of the bushes right at me.

I turned on my heel to get back to the other side. But the log shifted and sent me flying. With a scream, I plummeted, landing first on my ankle, then on my tailbone.

Icy cold water soaked my clothes as a white, searing pain shot up my leg. Gasping, I scanned the steep wall of rock and dirt for any signs of danger, expecting to be overrun with snarling, horrible dogs. What were they doing here?

Grabbing a rock from the riverbed, I waited. Listening.

Nothing.

I was alone. My friends hadn’t even noticed I was gone. How long before they came back for me? My ankle throbbed painfully, even in the cold water. I didn’t want to move it but had to. How else would I get out on my own?

I was bracing myself to get up when a tall dark-haired figure approached. As he descended the embankment with giant, graceful strides, I couldn’t believe who it was.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked.

Part of me wondered what he was doing there, on this obscure hiking trail across town, or why he was helping when he’d ignored me at school. But another part, the part that was probably in shock, considered it perfectly normal, as if I’d seen him here every day.

“Something black…” I muttered, in case he saw whatever came at me. I didn’t want to bring up the dog again. What if I’d imagined it?

“Did you hit your head?” he asked, crouching before me.

Of course he didn’t see it, Mia. Black things don’t just come at you. He thinks you’re delusional.

I blinked and shook my head. He seemed to be talking to me through a long dark tunnel. Everything—even the pain—was dim and distant. “My ankle took most of it.”

He knelt in the water, facing me, and said, “I’m going to check it, okay?”

I nodded blankly at the water soaking his jeans. He must be cold. I could no longer feel it myself. I knew on some level that something was wrong in my body, but the messaging was numbed somehow. All I felt was static, like my circuits had overloaded.

Holding my heel, he untied my shoelace and removed my boot. I bit my tongue to avoid crying out. It tasted metallic. When he touched my ankle, pain exploded up my leg.

“Oww!”

“Sorry.” He frowned. “I really do have to check it.”

“I know.”

I braced myself for pain, but his touch was light, gentle, as though he were examining a wounded bird.

“I’m going to check your spine,” he said. The tunnel sensation gone, I could sense how close he was, smell the mint on his breath. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He leaned toward me and reached around my back to gently feel my bones. As he touched me, he searched my face for any sign of pain, and the tenderness in his eyes made me warm all over.

A few moments later he helped me to my feet, offering me his arm for balance. I gripped it so hard my knuckles turned white, and I could feel the cords of muscles beneath his shirt. But I could stand as long as I put no pressure on my foot. The pain was fierce, and my balance so terrible I teetered on the rocks.

“You’ll never make it up to the trail on your own,” he said. “It’s steep.”

Well, that much was obvious. What was he going to do? Leave me there?

He stepped in closer, and I had that feeling again, like I recognized him from somewhere. It wasn’t from that morning in the park either. I wracked my brain, trying to place him. Had we been to the same party? Hung out in the same café? Perhaps I’d seen his picture somewhere.

“Trust me, okay? I won’t hurt you,” he said, and his voice sounded strange, almost musical, a chord rather than a single note.

Before I could reply, he placed one of my arms around his shoulders, scooped an arm under my legs, and picked me up as though I were weightless. As he carried me up the steep hill, he didn’t seem to notice how close we were, his face inches from mine—too close and yet not close enough.

Not knowing where to look, I gazed over his shoulder and noticed a strange light flickering behind him. Tinged with blue, it flashed and rippled in a flowing motion. What the heck was it? Was I in shock?

When I looked back at Michael’s face, it was alight, as though a beam of sunlight bathed both of us, especially him, in a warm golden hue. Like that day I saw him in the mall, only more brilliant. I gasped.

“Pain?” he asked.

I nodded, not wanting to admit I was hallucinating. He’d think I was crazy. Again.

A warm tingle filled me all the way to my toes. It made me feel open and exposed, as though a million eyes were watching me. Something inside told me to relax, and when I did, it eased not only my fright from earlier but all the pain I didn’t know I had, as if all of my struggles had been seen: the difficulties our family had through the divorce, the strange distance between Dad and me, even my awkwardness around Michael.

My chest tightened and, as I exhaled, the tension released. Everything became warm and floaty and I felt completely accepted and at peace. An image of a lush garden on a hot sunny day flashed in my mind, as vivid as the inside of a dream. It surrounded a primitive house made of mud-brick and plaster. Inside was an open fire pit with a hole in the roof for smoke to escape. The bed, made of straw, was draped in furs. In the corner stood a simple loom, strung with hundreds of cream-colored threads that formed a half-woven cloth. This place, these things, seemed so familiar, as though I was the person who had been working this loom, and I wasn’t alone. Someone else had been there with me.

But as quickly as the images came, they were gone, and I didn’t have a clue what they meant.

Chapter Five

My friends were waiting for me at the crest of the trail, their mouths agape as Michael set me down on a nearby log.

Heather rushed over and threw her arms around my neck. “Oh my God, Mia. Are you okay? We turned around and you were gone.”

Michael stepped back to let her get closer, but his tall frame hovered as though he could lend me his strength by proximity.

She turned to him almost accusingly. “Where did you come from?”

He cleared his throat. “I—”

Gushing, Fiona cut him off. “Michael, that was so awesome! Carrying her up that hill. It was crazy-steep. Your feet barely touched the ground.”

“It was nothing,” he scoffed, and I could feel his attention on me again. “How is it?”

How’s what? I thought, blinking at him, still marveling at what I’d seen. Had I just remembered a dream? It seemed so familiar, so real.

Heather touched my shoulder, but asked Michael, “How’s what?”

He focused on me. “Your ankle?”

I checked it. I could point my toe now without cringing. “It’s okay. Much better.”

“What happened?” Heather asked. “Can you walk?”

“Sure.” I stood, but when I took a step, pain burned the length of my leg. I flinched before I could stop myself and nearly fell over.