I had a sudden vision of a truck grille and a black car that rolled over and over and over, until it resembled nothing more than mashed metal. Felt the panic and fear rising, until it closed my throat and I was all but gasping for air. But it wasn't a truck I'd hit. It had been a roo. It had been flesh, not metal, that had caused this damage.
But not the damage to the other car, the black car. God, what had happened ...?
Again the thought faded, but the terror remained, thick and agonizing.
"Hanna, snap out of it." The voice was sharp, filled with concern, briefly sounding so warm and familiar that tears stung my eyes.
I wanted, so wanted, whoever that voice reminded me of, but for all I knew, that person was standing right beside me, grabbing my arm and desperately trying to comfort me. Maybe it was just my memories that were faulty, that were wanting something or someone who might not even be real.
No, no, no, that inner voice whispered. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.
I had to trust that instinct. I certainly couldn't trust anything or anyone else right now. Maybe not even that man who said he was my brother.
But until I knew more about me - and more about what was going on - I just had to play along. It was either that or return to the emptiness and the heat of the red sands, and that path could lead only to death.
"I'm okay," I said, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm the turmoil still raging inside. "Really, I'm okay."
"Yeah." He didn't sound convinced, and he didn't let go of my arm. In fact, he looked like he expected me to keel over at any minute. "Why don't we just get you back home, and I'll call in the doc to have a look at you."
He guided me toward the plane, his grip on my arm gentle and firm.
"I thought you said Dunedan didn't have a hospital."
"It doesn't, but it has a doctor. Has to. It's a tourist town."
I guess so. I grabbed the guide rail and climbed the steep steps into the plane. There were only two seats in the back. I took the one away from the window and wasn't entirely sure why I felt safer doing that.
"Nice to see you in one piece, little lady," the pilot said, handing me a bottle of water. He was a rough-looking man with a bulbous nose and scraggly gray beard. "The laddie here was extremely worried about you."
I glanced up at the laddie in question and raised an eyebrow. He took the hint and said, "Hanna, this is Frank. He runs the local pub and owns the plane."
I held out my hand. "Hello, Frank. Thanks for coming out to rescue me."
He laughed, flashing teeth that were yellow-stained and crooked. His hand wrapped around mine briefly, his grip firm and strong. "Wouldn't be neighborly to let our newcomers get themselves lost the first few days they hit town, now would it?"
"I guess not."
I began to sip the water and it was the sweetest thing I'd tasted in a long while. Which wasn't saying much given the state of my memories.
Evin drew the steps inside the plane then closed the door and sat down in the remaining seat. As the plane's propellers roared to life, he said, "We arrived in town a day ago. Your accident was reported this morning."
Which didn't really explain the state of the various wounds on my body. I might be a wolf, but I was one who apparently couldn't change, so why were there so many half-healed wounds on my body? The one on my shoulder looked bad, and it surely should have taken more than a day to heal without a shape change. "What was I doing alone in the car in the middle of nowhere?"
And why couldn't I remember hitting a roo?
He shrugged. "You said you wanted to be alone for a while and went for a drive."
"An odd thing to do if we'd only just arrived in town, wasn't it?"
His sudden grin crinkled the corners of his eyes and warmed his bright eyes. "We'd been cooped up together for ten days in that car. We may get on like a house on fire, but ten days is a long time. So no, it wasn't surprising."
"Why were we traveling?"
His smile faded. He studied me for several seconds, his expression serious and eyes suddenly sad. "You don't remember?"
Something caught in my throat, and I had an image of that truck again, and that crumpled black car, rolling over and over. I licked suddenly dry lips and said, "Remember what?"
He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Maybe it's better if you remember in your own time."