It all slammed back into me, all the things my mind had carefully packed inside boxes and put away because they were too painful to contemplate while I was waking up comfortable in the sunlight. CRACK came reality, and before I finished remembering I started screaming, scrambling out of the bed and falling to the floor. I hit the ground with a thud and didn't stop moving, clawing my way backwards as I hyperventilated, shoving myself away from the memories and the reality with bare feet until my back hit the wall.

I broke into hysterical sobs, wrapping my arms around myself and rocking, my fingers digging into my upper arms hard enough to hurt. Fingers. Somehow that penetrated the blind panic, one piece of crucial information that hooked into my mind and hung on. Fingers. My fingers. They were digging into my skin, my fingernails biting into the muscle of my arm, and I knew they were doing that because I could feel them. I could feel my fingers, and I could move them, and they weren't hurting and hot.

Shaking, I pried my hands off of myself, and with tears and snot running down my face I turned my palms to face me. Two palms with skin and creases, the tendons and bone safely hidden away, all the pieces of them where they belonged. The scarring on my right hand was so faint I wouldn't have noticed it if I didn't know to look for it, a little lighter and smoother than the rest of my skin.

I touched my arm, where there should have been a cracked and oozing blister, and found only smooth skin. Freaking out, I clawed up the shirt I was wearing, a black t-shirt several times too large for me, and found a pale, almost invisible scar where my broken anchor had gouged me. I wasn't shaking with fever, woozy and dying, hurting everywhere and too weak to do more than drag myself to water and to shelter. I was... alive, and healthy.

Wolf eyes, looking down at me out of a face that was almost a man's.

I covered my mouth and shuddered, sheltering under a side table in the expansive room of something inhuman. Someone who had gone into the human world, roaming through the woods as freely as if they were his own, and then carried me out of it in his arms. He'd been perfectly fine with leaving me to die, even though his friends had wanted to save me, but then he'd... changed his mind. Dramatically.

Dain. His name was Dain. How did I know that?