Something is in the air, like copper on my tongue. Our motorbikes have been eating up dirt and gravel for a handful of days. I swear I can HEAR my hair frizzing inside the helmet and spare a glance upward. Charcoal clouds are gathering rapidly, and low rumbles churn in the distance.

“Storm’s coming in from the east. We need to find a place for the night. Let’s try-” Bash’s voice crackles through the headset, a crack of thunder drowning out the rest of his words.

“I didn’t get that last bit. But I think we should-” My heart skips in my chest and chokes up my words. Across a portion of the road is a charred and still smoking tree trunk, its long reach branches partially obscuring a car wreck. The hair on my arms rises.

“Bash, there’s an accident-” The octave of my voice climbs, and thunder groans again.

“I see it. Can you see any survivors?” He’s already slowing down, leaving room for me to pull up alongside him.

A jeep lies on its side, the front end and engine partially crushed, looking like an aluminum can someone tried to smash. The vehicle’s windshield glass is badly cracked, large chunks are missing, and one wheel is spinning eerily.

“Zara, come on; people could be hurt!” Bash yells, shaking me out of my stupor.

 A dark blur of matted fur crawls out along the side of the car, whining and whimpering along on three paws, the fourth held up at a crooked angle. “Bash, it’s a dog- oh fives. C’mere boy, c’mere baby. It’s okay.” It limps to my side, licking icy rain droplets off my face. My Gin Dori is a beacon; it glows under my shirt collar and warms me to my core.

“Hello! Can anyone hear me?” Bash is already rushing to the vehicle with our emergency med kit. There’s a pale, slim hand that reaches out desperately from the wreckage, and it’s weird to see a limb like that, reaching upside down amidst mud and glass. Bash uses the fallen tree as a makeshift ladder, moving to the driver’s side. “If you can hear me, wave twice!”

 I kneel beside the dog and pet him, trying to calm the whining animal. “It’s alright, doggie,” I promise. “It’s okay, shhh. Good boy.” Even with his injured paw, the dog growls when Bash climbs on the door. A body hangs upside down, still strapped in the driver’s seat. It stirs, just for a moment, and catches my eye.  My Gin-Dori shines that much brighter, hot to the touch. The dog has my sleeve in his teeth; he’s pulling at me hard.

And that’s when I know.

My mate is in that wreck.

“Are you with him? Take me to him!” I whisper. The dog barks and limps back towards the windshield, whines renewing as he gets closer.  “Watch the glass, Zee!” Bash warns from his perch.

 The arm that was lying still before waves once, twice.

“Somebody waved, Bash; one of them is alive!” I hurry to unzip my jacket, wrap it around my fist, and sweep away as much glass as possible. I lay it out on the ground and crawl through the hole.

“I’m gonna get the bolt cutters. Tell them to hang on!” He calls back, scrambling down.

 I can see a body lying on its side, a mop of dark hair matted with either blood or dirt and debris. I can’t tell which. Beneath all the hair, the young man isn’t moving, and his eyes are closed, skin gray-hued with blood pouring from a gash across his forehead. A flash of lightning brightens his features, and even through the burnt red haze of blood, it’s enough. I know this face, the square jaw and crooked turn in the bridge of his nose.

“I’m Toren.”

The cry from my mouth is strangled, I try to move, but nothing happens. Is he dead? My heart, my life no, no, no, no -I see where the boy is still strapped in and the deployed airbag smeared in something muddy; that must have been what left the nasty cut on him.

Beside him is another young man whose eyes are enormous and whose throat is welted around where his seatbelt catches him. He’s such a sickly pale, I recoil, afraid that he’s dead, until the pale blue eyes blink at me.

“We’re going to get you out,” I promise. “Just hang on. Was there anyone else in the car with you?”

The blond tries to speak, but his words are little more than a growl. I scoot over on the dashboard and bend down, putting my ear to his lips.

“One more time.”

“No- no one-. He- help… Fin. Finch.” He rasps.

“Is that your name? Are you Finch?”

“I- Cas. Help- Finch.” He gasps.

Bash comes running back. He passes me the bolt cutters through the hole, and a lightning streak lets me see which part of the seat belt to cut. When my section is done, Bash uses them to cut the belt at the shoulder and then reaches in and helps the blond boy out.

“We need to move; the storm is getting worse!” Bash calls out over the rain that’s begun to pelt us. With this done, he grabs what bags can be salvaged while our accident victim helps him: one rescue down, one to go.

I’m trying to reach for the bolt cutters when the entire sky lights up. I see a dark substance pooling underneath one corner of the vehicle tank in the shadow of electricity. It’s the backup engine in your vehicle's instance of energy failure; half of the tank is crushed and caved in.

“Bash, gimme the cutters, hurry!” Bash peering in, they’re tossed down onto the dash with a thud.

“What is it? Is he bleeding badly?”

“The engine is leaking; we need to move before it catches fire. Get the other one out of here, go!” The lightning is too close, one more flash, and we all go up in flames. “Toren? Toren, can you hear me?” He’s so still. I can hardly see his chest rise and fall each time he breathes. “No, please be okay, please-” I cut away his belt and try to think back to Tula’s teachings. We aren’t supposed to move him if we don’t know his situation. His back or spinal cord could be

“ZARA, HURRY!” There’s a spark and the smell of rubber and oil popping and burning together. “Come on, Toren, come on-” I urge myself to go a little faster, tug a little harder. Something crunches under my knees as I get his body out of the car.

We cleared the overturned vehicle, and I used my coat to drag him back to the bikes, the injured wolf hybrid pressing in even closer now that I held who I assume is his master.

Abruptly, the entire front half explodes, knocking us back. The boom of it leaves my ears ringing, and I can barely hear Bash yelling beside me.

“We won’t make it to the next Clan. Let’s find a cave!” I nod to show I understand.

My boy stirs, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. I think he’s waking up, but I don’t trust riding far if he can’t stay seated on my bike. Into the sidecar, he’s going to have to go.

“Kova, you gotta share, c’ mere.” I tuck the fox into my jacket, snuggled on my chest, and zip it up tight before Bash and I push and shove my boy into the sidecar. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but it’ll do for now. The dog clambers in on his lap and growls at anyone trying to move him.

“Just hang on for me, okay? It won’t be far,” I promise. He nods, eyes barely opening before they’re already slipping closed once more. I get my extra helmet on him before following Bash down the winding road into a dense brush.

“I think there’s a cave here. It’s marked as a stop for campers. We should be all right, provided no one else is bedding down tonight,” Crackles the voice in my comm.

“Do it. We need to look them over and see if we can contact emergency services.” Bash gives me a thumbs up, then revs his bike engine to get through a substantial patch of mud. After losing precious time trying to get through overgrown weeds and tree roots, we make it to the cave entrance.

Bash does a quick look-through and proclaims it clear. The other guy is cradling his arm but won’t go until we get Toren safely inside. It’s dark, but the rock floor is large and swept clean. There’s a rod that’s been driven between two pillars, and we decide that must be where people change. In one corner, it looks like a shelf eroded out of the rock, canned goods resting on top. 

Finally, out of the rain, Bash gets a quick fire going to dry us all out, and we try to take stock of our situation.

“I need to get his cut cleaned; can you get me the emergency kit?” I ask as soon as we get him stretched out by the fire.

“Make sure you get yourself dried off right after. I’ll get the other one patched up,” Bash agrees, passing over the little silver Case. With Toren’s head in my lap, I dab away the worst of grime, finally getting the cut clean enough to see the damage.

The cut is roughly an inch below his hairline and diagonal, stretching towards his ear. He groans when I inject the numbing agent on either side, stirring and struggling briefly before going still once more.

“You’re safe now. It’s alright. You’re safe…” I work through putting stitches into the flesh, a neat line of them as small as possible. Once that’s done, antiseptic ointment and a bandage finish the job off. I put a blanket over him, then rinse my hands in the rain and hurry back in, pleased to find a dry sweatshirt in my pack to change into. My gift ensures I’m always warm enough, but the clothes are soaked and scratchy. Before I can pull off my wet things, the hybrid limps over, whining and licking at its left paw. Kova sniffs at him curiously.

Toren twitches and groans again. “Hang on, pup. I’ll fix you. It’s okay.” The wolf hybrid growls.  His copper tags say he’s called Mace.

“Good boy, Mace. Who’s a good boy? Can I see your paw?” The animal’s reply is to bare his teeth, snapping his jaws when I try to get a closer look. I give him a shot from the med kit in his haunches, fervently hoping  it won’t be too much sedative for a dog. Mace continues to cry and whine, but within a few minutes, he’s hunkered down by my Bond-mate, breathing softly. I give it another minute to be sure he’s mostly under and set the bone. The poor thing yelps but wags his tail politely for me as I wrap up the wounded limb. Kova chitters and sniffs him again.

“You watch them for a minute for me, okay girl?” I give her ears a scratch, and she lies down by Mace. I turn to our other guest.

“Can you talk yet? That’s some pretty nasty bruising.” Bash comments, passing over a bottle of water to the tall glass of milk that is the blond. He takes a sip, wincing as he swallows and shakes his head.

“Here.” I tear out a paper from my sketchbook and pass it over before heading deeper into the cave to change into my dry things. When I return, they’ve started a conversation through scribbles on the makeshift notepad.

“Hey, Zee. This is Caspian,” Bash introduces us from atop his sleeping bag. Caspian waves at me with what Tula calls piano player’s hands because of his bony knuckles and slender fingers. His wet blond hair hangs in blue-gray eyes. They’re the only spot of color, nearly opaque in an angular face. Slim hips and long legs that he stretched towards the fire. “He and his buddy Finch were on their way to Bond Clan when the storm knocked down a tree right in their way,” Bash explains.

My breath catches. “He- Toren was going to Bond Clan too?” And then an accident had nearly taken him away before he could become mine.

Caspian nods, scribbles again, and holds up his writing. LOOKING FOR HIS DREAM GIRL.

Just then, Toren whimpers. In a flash, I’m back beside him. Pale under my hand, he twitches when my thumb brushes a tiny cut under his ear. I wonder if it was the accident or a razor while he was shaving. I trace the lines of his face, memorizing every bit of him. The square jaw I could draw in my sleep. His wavy pompadour ’s begun to fall and muss from the weight of rainwater. I used to use coffee grounds to get the color exactly right. It’s darker still against his fair skin. There’s the little dip beneath his lower lip; his mouth is my softest shade of blush, lightened always with river water.

 One corner of his mouth is swollen and a little bloody, and I work on cleaning him with a wet wipe in gentle circles.

“You’re my dream, too,” I whisper to him. His Gin Dori pulses in response. His is one-half of a clock gear, sawed-off edges gleaming cold and silver between my fingers. On impulse, I hold it up against my own. My Gin Dori twists and turns like a river, but it has no problem curving into the gear and locking into place. Like a key, turning in your door, welcoming you home.

“Bash, it’s him… it’s him!” I laugh for joy. Bash is frowning until he sees the Gin Dori together, and then we’re both laughing and jumping; he spins me around the cave.

Caspian writes hurriedly and holds up his sign.

WHAT’D I MISS, I LIKE TO PARTY TOO

But we can’t answer, we’re too busy celebrating. Bash whoops and decides to open our emergency stash of chocolate up early. He lets me take one first, and while he’s letting Caspian pick out a piece, I go back to Toren.  His eyes open and meet mine briefly, a cross between the green of sea glass that reminds me of my treasures on the windowsill back home and the bluest sky of a fall day when the crisp air steals your breath. He takes away my breath now.

“It’s you,” He breathes.

“It’s me. Zara,” A tear hits his cheek from above. I hadn’t realized I was so emotionally spent. He closes his eyes again, and it’s all I can do not to crush him to me, try and take him in as much as I can. Instead, I take his hand in mine, lie beside his sore and broken body, and pull up another blanket. He cuddles against me, and I put my ear to his heart, listening to its robust and steady beat until it lulls me to sleep.