He flew them over town, past the highway, past Main Street, into the neighborhoods beyond. “Aren’t we landing at the airport?”

“We’re going right to the clinic.”

“Right to Anuk’s place?”

“Yep. She’s still practicing, right?”

Echo nodded, and in a few minutes she recognized the compound of the Copper Mountain vet clinic, aka Anuk Swenson’s place.

Dodge put down right in the gravel driveway just as the porch light flickered on.

He unbuckled and climbed into the back, unstrapping Holly.

Echo opened her door and slid to the ground.

By the time Dodge got Holly out, Anuk had emerged, dressed in a thick parka and boots.

“It’s Holly,” he said, as if it might be his dog.

“She got attacked by a grizzly,” Echo added, running after Dodge’s long strides.

Anuk headed to the clinic and opened it up, then went right to the back, to the surgical area. “Set her down on the table.”

Dodge gently put the animal down.

Anuk shed her jacket. Her black hair snaked down her back in a braid. “She’s going to need blood, and I’m going to need an assistant. Dodge, go wake up my husband. Echo, you hold Holly while I assess her wounds.”

Dodge left.

Holly moaned as Anuk removed the sleeping bag, then the snow pack. “Good job keeping this cold. You slowed down the bleeding. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Will she live?”

Anuk was examining her leg. The dog whined. “I know, baby,” Anuk said. “We need to get her under—oh, thank God.”

Her husband, large and blond, came into the room, followed by Dodge.

“Gunnar, type her blood. Dodge, get Echo out of here.”

“No, I—”

“Echo, come on,” Dodge said, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Let them work.”

Her eyes filled. “No—”

“Yes,” he said, a softness in his tone.

She closed her eyes and let him lead her from the room.

He walked her to the sofa in the lobby, helped her onto it, and sat down next to her.

And then, because she didn’t know what else to do, she put her hands over her eyes, leaned against him, and wept.

five

The problem was that the dream ended the same way every time. With her standing in the field, in front of a bonfire, watching her future implode.

This was not how it was supposed to end. In fact, it wasn’t supposed to end at all.

Echo knew she was dreaming, knew it because outside the veil of her memories, she could still smell the faint antiseptic plus animal odor of the vet office. Could still feel the rasp of Dodge’s Gore-Tex thermal pants, the weight of his hand on her shoulder, offering some sense that everything would be okay.