I fling my arms out in front of me and grope through the darkness, my palms scraping painfully against blade-sharp bark each time I find a tree. Soon I can feel blood running down my arms, warm and thick.

Over and over I call his name, knowing somehow that if I can just find him, I can escape this darkness. The cold that was unable to touch me just minutes ago sears into my bones, and soon I stagger and fall.

Then the snow collapses beneath me and the cold multiplies drastically. I flail about, and as I lift my face heavenward, I realize I’m back in the drowning dream. The icy water cuts to my bones as blackness closes over my head.

Quinn … Quinn … My thoughts get quieter as pain envelops me and I let go.

I clap my hand over a scream as I try to make out my dark, unfamiliar surroundings.

Reese’s BMW.

I’m safe.

I’m alive.

Settling back against the seat, I lie in the darkness as waves of emotion wash over me, swirling into eddies that shake my body from within. Fear, longing, and desperation in an overwhelming blend.

Not simply desperation for Quinn, but for answers, explanations. I know nothing, and it traps me as surely as an iron chain.

Outside the car, something flutters in the darkness. The windows are fogged from the heat of our bodies, and I lift my sleeve to clear a circle in the misty glass.

Something moves.

They found me! My entire body tenses up and I’m about to elbow Benson awake when I see a flash of golden hair.

“Quinn.” The real Quinn. His name escapes my mouth in a barely audible whisper as he draws nearer.

He’s close to the window now, his eyes boring into mine. He crooks his finger at me and then turns and walks out of sight.

I click the door locks, and the sound seems deafening in the quiet interior. Thankfully, Benson doesn’t stir. I try to slip out without waking him, but as soon as the door opens, light from the dome floods the car. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a scratchy voice, pushing up on his elbows.

“Gotta pee,” I lie. “Go back to sleep.”

Benson’s eyes are already closing as I slip out, the cold air hitting me like a slap after the warmth of our bodies in the car. It’s snowing hard, and the world around me has that intense hush that only heavy, powdery snowfall brings.

I clasp my arms around myself and peer into the darkness, through the huge lacy flakes, but I don’t see Quinn.

I hope I’m not making a mistake. Quinn wouldn’t lure me out into danger, though; I know it! Nonetheless, I peer into the darkness around me and my chest is tight as I see nothing but stillness.

I glance back at the car. Benson will worry if I’m gone long. Determined to get my answers as quickly as possible, I take off in the direction I think Quinn went. The snow is already an inch or two deep and I look down at my tracks. I can follow them back if I’m fast.

My head is low, studying the camouflaged ground, when I hear it. “Miss. Miss?”

Miss? My head whips around, and for a moment I see nothing. Then a flicker of movement in the trees makes my heart race. A face emerges and, if anything, my pulse speeds even faster.

He’s beautiful in the moonlight, a dark, snow-spotted coat wrapping him from his neck to his ankles, his face soft and almost expressionless.

“I knew you would come to me.”

The wind carries the soft words to my ears, and for a moment I think I’m back in my dream. He lifts his hands as though to reach for me—exactly like he did in the dream—and I have to stop myself from running to him, from burrowing into his arms with the same abandon I felt in that illusionary forest.

When I hesitate, he lets his hands fall and the moment is gone.

Why didn’t I go to him? I’m not sure I know the answer.

Quinn turns his head before I can see if there’s disappointment in his eyes.

“I … I dreamed about you.” My words are a low murmur, but they sound loud in the stillness around us. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

His jaw tightens. Answer enough.

“You made a rose in my dream,” I say, and my chest is tight in anticipation. “You’re like me. You … you make things.”

Again he doesn’t answer, but I’m sure I’m right.

“Quinn, please, what am I? What are we?” The word Earthbound flashes through my head again, but it brings more questions than answers.

“I have things to show you,” he says simply. “This way.” He turns and heads directly into the woods without looking back to see if I’m following.

The same words. That weird cadence. I have things to show you. Not I have something to show you. I hesitate before I step into the spidery shadows of the branchless trees. It’s like every horror movie I’ve ever seen. The kind where the stupid girl ends up dead.

But isn’t this what I wanted? Didn’t I drive all the way up here to find him?

I search my feelings, straining for something—a sign, an omen, I don’t know—but even though my head is spinning and my fingertips tingle, it’s with anticipation, not fear.

With one more glance at the dark car where Benson still sleeps, I pull out my phone and turn it on. Four new messages: three from Jay and one from an unknown number. I close the notification and activate the flashlight feature before plunging into the blackness of the forest, following Quinn. Remembering the darkness in the dream, I rub my arms and shiver.

Quinn is like a will-o’-the-wisp, always ten feet ahead no matter how fast or slow I walk. I’ve given up trying to catch him; it only makes him go faster. Better to focus on not running into bushes or low-hanging branches—I already have one stinging scrape on my cheek.