“Did you see where he went?” I ask and she shakes her head. I scoot her up against the rock. “Don’t move until I get back, okay?”

Drawing out my knife of my jacket, I walk vigilantly toward the collection of rocks where I last saw Bernard. The heartbeat knocks louder and I hold my breath as I climb onto the rocks and peek down on the other side. But it’s empty. And the heartbeat’s vanished.

“I don’t get it,” I mumble and turn to Maci. “Are you sure you didn’t see where he went?”

She shakes her head, but then her eyes snap wide. “Kayla, look out!”

The heart strikes deafeningly against my eardrums as a pair of hands wrap themselves around my waist and jerk me back. I slam my head back, knocking it against the persons face and we both tumble off the rocks, hitting the bottom hard. I’m on my feet in a matter of seconds, but I’ve lost my knife. Where is my knife?

“Looking for this?”

My eyes rise to the unfamiliar voice. His eyes are the color of honey. His dark hair sweeps across his forehead and runs scraggly down his ears and neck. He’s tall and lean and has this funny white line running below his eye and down his left cheek. I’m not sure what it is, but it has me curious. So does the feeling that I know him.

He’s holding my knife and I don’t like it. “You dropped this,” he says and tosses it to me.

I catch it effortlessly, without taking my eyes off him.

“You seem confused,” he says with a sparkle in his honey eyes.

I wrap my fingers around the handle of my knife.  “Who are you?”

“Well that’s a weird coincidence,” he says with a smile. “Because I was thinking the same thing.”

I eye him over. “You’re unarmed.”

He spreads his arms out to the side of him. “Which gives you all the power.”

“You knocked me to the ground,” I say.

“You slammed me in the head.” He touches his forehead. “You’ve got a tough head, you know that?”

I step to the side, keeping my eyes on him and my knife out. “You’re the one who grabbed me first.”

“Only to protect you.” His pulse is consistent, never faltering, never wavering, which would indicate he’s telling the truth. But my thoughts whisper otherwise.

“Where did you come from?”

“Did you find them yet?” A girl jumps down into the rocks, sees me, and sighs. “Thank God. I thought we were going to be tracking them down forever.” Her blue eyes measure me. They’re traced with this black stuff and colorful pictures trace up and down her arms. Her dark hair is matted in thick wisps. She’s tall and looks tough on the outside, but on the inside she’s scared of me.