Prologue:

The storm, the wolves, the forest, and life have brought us to the end of the world and of ourselves.

My wet, pruned hand rests on a massive evergreen, which is transferring the stress of violent winds directly to my bones as I crouch beside it. It may snap and fall on me at any moment. I keep my hand on the retching beast. I need to catch my breath and gain strength from this giant, however tenuous its roots’ hold on the earth.

Please, let him be alive and—

Blinding light retreats from the darkness as quickly as it appears, immediately followed by a crackling noise that momentarily drowns out the sounds of rain and winds. My hand jerks back from the tree to cover my head. I duck nearly into a ball, squinting my eyes.

I hold hope with clenched, aching fingers. Fingers longing to be held in return. The sound and light have retreated. My fears and the storm rage on.

Please let him be alive and not alone.

I raise just slightly out of my crouch, opening up to risk one more crack of lightning. My face relaxes as much as it can with unusually large drops of rain attacking me from branches heaving in the winds.

Please protect the little boy.

I remember the first time I met Rafael.

Chapter 1

My eyelids were closed and my legs crossed in a child’s pose. I drew in a deep breath. My cheeks curled up in a slight smile and my shoulders dropped.

The air smelled fresh.

My brow wrinkled and head tilted. Where am I?

Eyes still closed, I set my hands out to lean my weight on them. I’m on rock?

I opened my eyes and saw the sun shining on everything around me. I sat on a boulder the size of a truck. My face felt more relaxed than it had in months. The back of my neck let go of tension I’d forgotten it held.

A hundred feet in front of me was a lake with glassy, calm water.

What was this place, why did it feel like magic was there, and why did I feel nervous?

My neck was regaining some of that tension, and I felt it when I twisted to see what was around me. Stiffness reminded me I’d reached my forties. Curiosity overcame my aging vertebrae and muscles, and I twisted further to see a ridge rising up starkly behind me. To my left and right, lush, tall grasses spread out. Before me, the grasses led to the lake’s edge, where the water was deep blue, absorbing the color of the sky. The rays on my skin didn’t seem hot, though I was sure it was midsummer.

Why does this place seem familiar?

Déjà vu surged, and I remembered stories I’d heard of the expanses of Alaska.

A screech tore through the air. My head snapped upward just in time to see an eagle fold its wings tightly to its body and fall like a rock. Just before crashing, the eagle spread its wings, opened its talons, and, amid a wall of splashing water, emerged with a fish in its grasp. Wings whooshed and talons clung to a fish with scales that flashed gold, pink, and silver in the sunlight.

My forehead hurt from squinting tightly against the brightness, and I dropped my gaze back to the lake. There, at the far end, stood a little boy.

A tremor ran through my veins. My bones shook. All the skin on my body prickled, and the hairs on my neck tingled.

The grasses and the lake rustled.

Not rustling. Shivering. They feel it too. It was an odd thought, but one I accepted.

My breath caught in my chest, and my heart beat in my throat.

The little boy stood on the opposite shore, staring at me with unwavering eyes.

Tears pooled in my eyes. Who was he? Why was he alone?

I shifted to my right arm and unfurled my legs, preparing to jump from the rock down to the grass. My heart’s pace quickened, pumping blood so I could run to the boy, shield him, and protect him forever. No time could be spared.

The boy continued staring at me. The lake shivered again. A breeze blew across my face, and my breath caught once more. I fell back slightly, replacing my left hand on the rock. A tear ran down my face, chilled by the wind. My unblinking eyes dried.

The boy’s face seemed to mirror mine. Eyes wide, mouth open, arms down. We both waited, vulnerable and unguarded.

Whatever it is, he feels it too.

I stood up, spreading my arms slightly from my sides. I wonder if I could fly on this breeze. Fly like the eagle. Away from hurt and heaviness.

It didn’t make sense, and I dropped my arms to my side again. Maybe it was a dream. The air stilled, and I nearly closed my eyes.

Then, a little to the boy’s right, a man entered my view. The breeze arrived with him, now stronger than before. The lake and the grasses shivered again.

Did this place know him?I shook my head. That was preposterous. “Who is this man?” I asked the lake, the boulder, and the grass.

The man and the boy spoke to each other. I strained forward to hear them, but they were too far away. I couldn’t hear a word. The man’s mouth moved, and a gust ruffled my shirt before it whispered imperceptible words in my ear. That knocked me back, and I barely caught my balance.

I couldn’t make out the whispered words. I only knew they made me want to speak with the man. I craved answers.

Who was he? Could he help me? Could he or the magic of this place help the boy? And who was the boy?

I took a step toward the edge of the rock again. I needed to hurry across the grass and around the lake to reach them. Once again I stopped. More tears threatened.

Stop it! Stop crying!

My lips pursed, my nostrils flared, and my eyes steeled.

Then I awoke and saw the darkness of my bedroom on a cold, rainy February morning in Oregon.