Wolf.

I was a werewolf.

The relief I felt at that realization was incredible. It flowed through me sweetly, giving me an odd sort of strength. If I could remember that, then I would remember everything else with time.

Besides, a wolf could easily survive in wild places like this. She could find food and water that I, the humanoid, would never spot. She also had a thick red coat to protect her skin from the sun. I needed that protection -

needed it badly.

I closed my eyes and called for the wolf within. But instead of power, what rose was another wash of pain. It was thick and fierce and hit like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded and shaking.

The wolf was there. I could feel her, fierce and angry. But she couldn't answer. There was some sort of barrier between us, something that was stopping her, and I had no idea what that something was.

I screamed then, and it was a thick and angry sound filled with frustration and pain.

Damn it, what the hell was going on?

How could someone stop the wolf? She was a part of me, part what I was. How could that be stopped?

I hope you enjoy the week you have remaining, that arrogant voice had said. But I very much doubt you will.

Fear surged again, its taste so bitter that I almost gagged. A week. I had a week, if that voice was to be believed. A week to discover who I was, where I was, and what the hell was going on.

It suddenly didn't seem like a whole lot of time.

I swung my fist savagely, hitting the tree trunk and sending bark flying. Pain rippled up my arm, joining the various other aches that ebbed and flowed across my body. I swore again, this time at my own stupidity, and shook my bloody hand. Hitting the tree wasn't going to achieve anything.

I glanced up at the sun again. I couldn't go out in that. My skin was already red and tender, and it felt like I was burning from the outside in, meaning the sunburn had gone fairly deep. Shape-shifting would have solved that problem, but that was - for whatever reason - out the question. I'd have to wait out the heat and travel at night.

Meaning, whether I liked it or not, I was stuck here until sunset. I crossed my legs and plopped down on the sandy soil. After a while, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to rest, trying to ignore the aches and the internal fires and the confusion.

I didn't succeed.

Time passed slowly, but eventually dusk cast its bloody ribbons across the sky and the heat began to fade. I rose stiffly to my feet and sniffed the air, searching for something, anything, that might give me a direction.

Nothing but crisp, clean emptiness.

I blew out a breath, saw the evening star beginning to twinkle in the sky, and headed that way. It was as good a direction as any.

Dusk continued to blaze across the sky, vivid and beautiful, but eventually gave way to night. The stars came out, dominating the sky, brighter than I could ever remember seeing them. Not that that was saying much, because it wasn't like I could remember a whole lot.

I kicked up a puff of soil with my toes, watching the dust float away on the breeze. Was I meant to die out here?

That arrogant voice had said he wasn't going to kill me, but maybe he'd simply meant he wasn't going to do it himself. Maybe this was his method of revenge - trapping me out here, in the middle of nowhere, with no resources and no one to call on. Not even my wolf.

In the distance, crickets droned. Or maybe they were locusts, because they were certainly making a whole lot more noise.

And they were on the move, getting closer, getting louder.

Too loud, in fact, to be either crickets or locusts. I stopped and frowned up at the sky. Saw the lights - lights that were moving, circling. A plane.

"Hey!" I ran forward, waving my arms frantically. "Hey, I'm here."

It was night, the landscape was vast, and the chances of their seeing me were next to none, but that didn't stop me from screaming like a maniac or trying to catch their attention.

Light shot out from the plane, spearing the hill above me. I ran toward it, saw it dart sideways, and dove frantically for that patch of bright salvation. I hit the turf hard, rolled to my knees, and looked up, squinting against the harshness of the light.

"Help!" I screamed again. "I need help!"

For a moment there was no response, then the light flicked off and the plane banked away.

"No!" The word was wrenched from my throat. I punched the ground in frustration, my vision suddenly blurred with tears. Damn it, they couldn't leave. They couldn't ...

They weren't.

The plane was descending, not leaving. I scrambled to my feet and ran down the hill toward it.

The plane taxied to a halt and the small rear door opened. A red-haired man scrambled out and ran toward me. That fleeting image of the boy who'd chased me rose again, and something inside me leapt for joy. But as my gaze fell on his face, my steps slowed. That face wasn't the face I remembered. Wasn't the face I was expecting.

For a start, it was a whole lot younger.

He didn't seem to notice my sudden hesitation, just reached me and swept me into a hug that was fierce and strong.

"Jesus, Hanna," he said, his voice hoarse. "I thought you were dead."

Hanna. I rolled the name around internally, but for some reason, it didn't sit right. "Obviously, I'm not."

He laughed - a rich warm sound - and stepped back, holding me at arm's length. His bright gray eyes - so familiar, so alien - searched mine. "You look like shit."

"Not surprising, given that's how I feel." I stepped back, away from his touch. "Who the hell are you?"

Surprise rippled across his features. "What do you mean, who the hell am I? Who do you think I am?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be asking the question." I crossed my arms and stared at him. He was a little taller than me, and broader in the shoulders. His face was rough-hewn but oddly handsome, and his scent said he was a wolf. From the red pack, if his longish hair was anything to go by.

Part of me felt like I should have known him, but the other part, the instinctive part, said he was a stranger.

"Hanna, you know who I am." He reached for my hand, but I avoided his touch. Surprise ran through his eyes. Surprise and concern. "You really don't, do you?"

I didn't bother answering. Just waited.

"For fuck's sake, what's happened to you?" He scrubbed a hand across his face. "I'm Evin. Your brother."

My brother.

No, I thought, staring at him. He wasn't my brother. Not the brother I wanted, not the brother I was expecting.

God, this was all so damn confusing.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Frustration and hurt rippled through his expression. If he was acting, then he was damn good.

Why would I think he was acting?

I didn't know. I just didn't know.

It was becoming somewhat of a theme for me.

"I can't prove it here, obviously. I didn't bother collecting our life history when I came looking for you." But he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to show me his license. His name was indeed Evin. Evin London. He flipped it closed before I could catch the address, and said, "Happy?"

No, I thought. But simply said, "So, you knew I was out here?"

It came out almost as an accusation, and he raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know for certain. But when we found your car - "

"My car?" I couldn't remember a car. No surprise there, either.

"Yeah. By the look of it, you'd hit a kangaroo hard enough to roll the car. It's a total bloody mess. I had to hire another one."

But I didn't hit a roo, I'd hit a truck. Or rather, it had hit me.

Or was that just more mixed memories?

"What the hell did you do with your clothes? They weren't in the car," he said.

I shrugged, not knowing and not caring. "Where did you find my car?"

"About an hour out of Dunedan. The local cops have already hauled it back into town."

Which was not helpful, given I had no idea what or where Dunedan was. "And where are we now?"

"About a hundred miles southeast of that point."

Which was a hell of a long way to walk in the time I'd apparently been missing. "Then how did I get here?"

His gaze ran down my battered body. "Looking at the mess your feet are in, the answer is pretty obvious. And you've got a nice sunburn going."

He peeled off his shirt and handed it to me. His body was well toned, but it wasn't the body of someone who trained regularly. For some reason, that struck me as odd. I put on his shirt on and did up the buttons. It was long enough to cover my butt, which was probably a good thing if I was going back to civilization. Humans tended to get antsy about nakedness.

"Now, let's get you to - "

"No hospital," I interrupted. "I hate hospitals."

His eyebrows raised even further. "Dunedan hasn't got a hospital. Can't you remember anything?"

"No. Not who you are, not who I am, not where I am." I paused. "Why can't I shift shape?"

He frowned. "I have no idea. You could before the accident."

I had a sudden vision of a truck grille and a black car that rolled over and over and over, until it resembled nothing more than mashed metal. Felt the panic and fear rising, until it closed my throat and I was all but gasping for air. But it wasn't a truck I'd hit. It had been a roo. It had been flesh, not metal, that had caused this damage.

But not the damage to the other car, the black car. God, what had happened ...?

Again the thought faded, but the terror remained, thick and agonizing.

"Hanna, snap out of it." The voice was sharp, filled with concern, briefly sounding so warm and familiar that tears stung my eyes.

I wanted, so wanted, whoever that voice reminded me of, but for all I knew, that person was standing right beside me, grabbing my arm and desperately trying to comfort me. Maybe it was just my memories that were faulty, that were wanting something or someone who might not even be real.

No, no, no, that inner voice whispered. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

I had to trust that instinct. I certainly couldn't trust anything or anyone else right now. Maybe not even that man who said he was my brother.

But until I knew more about me - and more about what was going on - I just had to play along. It was either that or return to the emptiness and the heat of the red sands, and that path could lead only to death.

"I'm okay," I said, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm the turmoil still raging inside. "Really, I'm okay."

"Yeah." He didn't sound convinced, and he didn't let go of my arm. In fact, he looked like he expected me to keel over at any minute. "Why don't we just get you back home, and I'll call in the doc to have a look at you."

He guided me toward the plane, his grip on my arm gentle and firm.

"I thought you said Dunedan didn't have a hospital."

"It doesn't, but it has a doctor. Has to. It's a tourist town."

I guess so. I grabbed the guide rail and climbed the steep steps into the plane. There were only two seats in the back. I took the one away from the window and wasn't entirely sure why I felt safer doing that.

"Nice to see you in one piece, little lady," the pilot said, handing me a bottle of water. He was a rough-looking man with a bulbous nose and scraggly gray beard. "The laddie here was extremely worried about you."

I glanced up at the laddie in question and raised an eyebrow. He took the hint and said, "Hanna, this is Frank. He runs the local pub and owns the plane."

I held out my hand. "Hello, Frank. Thanks for coming out to rescue me."

He laughed, flashing teeth that were yellow-stained and crooked. His hand wrapped around mine briefly, his grip firm and strong. "Wouldn't be neighborly to let our newcomers get themselves lost the first few days they hit town, now would it?"

"I guess not."

I began to sip the water and it was the sweetest thing I'd tasted in a long while. Which wasn't saying much given the state of my memories.

Evin drew the steps inside the plane then closed the door and sat down in the remaining seat. As the plane's propellers roared to life, he said, "We arrived in town a day ago. Your accident was reported this morning."

Which didn't really explain the state of the various wounds on my body. I might be a wolf, but I was one who apparently couldn't change, so why were there so many half-healed wounds on my body? The one on my shoulder looked bad, and it surely should have taken more than a day to heal without a shape change. "What was I doing alone in the car in the middle of nowhere?"

And why couldn't I remember hitting a roo?

He shrugged. "You said you wanted to be alone for a while and went for a drive."

"An odd thing to do if we'd only just arrived in town, wasn't it?"

His sudden grin crinkled the corners of his eyes and warmed his bright eyes. "We'd been cooped up together for ten days in that car. We may get on like a house on fire, but ten days is a long time. So no, it wasn't surprising."

"Why were we traveling?"

His smile faded. He studied me for several seconds, his expression serious and eyes suddenly sad. "You don't remember?"

Something caught in my throat, and I had an image of that truck again, and that crumpled black car, rolling over and over. I licked suddenly dry lips and said, "Remember what?"

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Maybe it's better if you remember in your own time."

"Remember what?"

I grabbed his arm, my fingers tightening reflexively. He winced and, for a moment, seemed surprised by my strength. Which struck me as odd, given he was my brother and should have known what I was. What he was.