When he finally pulled her into his arms, her body was stiff against him, her muscles tight and joints locked.

“Alva?” Panic, lightning fast, gripped him by the throat. She didn’t respond, though her eyes were open. “Alva. Honey. Focus on me.”

Her gaze stayed as it was: unblinking, unfocused, unresponsive. Fear raced through him, pounding through his heart as if the vessel had stopped moving blood and was pumping terror instead. He pushed the door open with his back, dragging her more than carrying her inside.

Resting her on the dusty floor, he checked her pulse. It ticked rabbit fast in her wrist, so frantic it vibrated the skin. It was the only motion in her entire body.

He ran through possibilities as he checked her breath. Never had he so bitterly regretted his lack of interest in the medical sciences. It was obviously a fit of some kind—an epileptic seizure? A stroke?

God, don’t let it be a stroke.

She was breathing evenly, if swiftly. He needed to get her to a doctor.

Hands almost numb with panic, he was lifting her again, prepared to drag her to his horse, or all the way to town if necessary, when she coughed.

“Alva? Alva. Honey. Talk to me.”

She coughed again, but her eyes focused on him, and her muscles began to loosen.

“Sam?” Her voice was little more than a croak. “You didn’t leave.”

“Oh god.” The alarm rushed out of his body, leaving behind a hollow pit in his chest. “You’re back.”

“Your hands are shaking,” she murmured, slumping against him as the stiffness left her. He lowered them both to the floor, holding her tight as he slid down the wall.

“That’s because you scared the wits out of me,” he said, closing his eyes and focusing on the warm pliancy of her body next to his. “It’s going to be a few minutes before I fully recover my masculinity.”

“But apparently the bad jokes return almost immediately,” she said, a little more normally. “I … I think I met a ghost. Or I’m going completely mad and should be locked up at once.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Explain.”

She took a stabilizing breath, the air stuttering a little as she took it in. “I had … a vision, I guess you would call it. Except it didn’t feel like a vision at all. It was as if I was trapped in someone else’s skin, living their life instead of my own.” Briefly, in short, simple sentences, she outlined what had happened. As she described running through the dark woods, knowing she only had minutes, seconds, left, Sam held her tighter and tighter. He’d been right next to her and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to protect her. He hadn’t even known.