“Like an iceberg,” agreed Anna. “There’s a lot more under the surface that you can’t see.”

“Like what?” he asked.

But she couldn’t answer him. It was a gut feeling. As if his music should slide off her. She had a big hollowness inside her head that felt denser than hollowness should feel. Something important was hidden there, something with fur and sharp teeth. She felt herself reaching toward that—

“You were going to tell me about your favorite family vacation,” Zander prompted, putting a hand on her thigh. Warmth seeped into her flesh from that hand.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “Um, I was about six and my brother was eight—”

And as the SUV turned off the paved road and onto a dirt track, she was lost in the feeling of lake water on bare feet and how her brother had tried and failed to teach her to skip rocks on the last vacation they’d taken as a family of four.

“That’s it,” Zander murmured. “Remember.”

Something pulled Anna’s attention away from the memory. A tug in her chest. She brought a hand up to rub at the spot, but the pressure didn’t go away.

The SUV bounced and jostled over the ground, sides and underside scraping in such a way that she was glad it was this SUV and not … not some other beloved vehicle. Some thoughts just slid away from her in a way that was distracting.

She caught the reflection of a wild animal’s eyes just past Zander’s shoulder. She lost track of her family’s vacation entirely and focused her attention on the darkness of the forest.

“Wolf,” she said.

Zander glanced quickly in the direction she was looking in, but he had to return his attention to the road. They had already passed the place where the wolf had been standing anyway.

“I don’t think so, not here,” he said with assurance. “There is a pack a fair bit south of here, and there are some in southern Oregon. But not here. You probably saw a coyote. Size can be deceptive in the dark.”

The wolf was gone from view, but Anna could feel her presence. She pressed a hand to her chest where that certainty lived. There was a wolf out there—and she was following them. It should have frightened her, but like the flannel shirt she wore, it gave her an obscure sense of comfort.

Pack.

The whispered word echoed out of that inaccessible hollowness. But she didn’t know its import. Pack what? Her carry gun was in its usual holster. Was that what that inner voice had meant?

She didn’t know how to shoot a gun.

“Anna,” Zander’s voice called her attention away from thoughts that made her worry.

“Are we there yet?” she asked cheerfully, in an effort to thank him for making her feel better.