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not-quite-falling than running, but I was too frightened to wait for any kind of improvement. Had to keep moving.

More shouting behind me. Voices, more than one. The hammer of blood in my ears kept me from focusing on the words. Someone did this to me, I thought. Put me out here to die. I didn't want them to find that they'd failed.

Not that they really had failed, yet.

Up ahead was a tangle of underbrush. My body was already covered with whip-scratches and a lacework of blood against cold white skin. Even numb as I was at the moment, I couldn't throw myself into a thorn thicket. I needed a way around... I turned right, holding to a massive tree trunk for support, and clambered up a short rise.

Just as I reached the summit, a shadow appeared at the top of it. I gasped and started to fall backward, but the shadow reached down and grabbed my forearm, pulling me up the rest of the way and then wrapping me in sudden warmth as his arms closed around me.

I fought, startled and scared, but he was a big man, tall, and he managed to pin my arms to my side in a bear hug. "Jo!" he shouted in my ear. "Joanne, stop! It's me! It's Lewis!"

He smelled like woodsmoke and sweat, leaves and damp fabric, but he was warm, oh God, warm as heaven itself, and against my own will I felt myself go limp and stop fighting. For the moment.

"Jo?" He slowly let his arms loosen, and pulled back to look down at me. He was taller than I was by half a head, with shaggy-cut brown hair, and a long patrician face with big, dark eyes. A three-day growth of beard coming in heavy on his cheeks and chin. "We've been looking for you for days. What the hell happened to you? Are you--?" He stopped himself with an impatient shake of his head. "Never mind, stupid question, you're not okay or you'd have contacted us. Listen, we're in trouble. Bad trouble. We need you. Things have gone wrong."

I realized, with a terrible sinking feeling, that I had no idea who he was. And then the sinking turned to free fall.

He must have known something was wrong, because he frowned at me and passed his hand in front of my eyes. "Jo? Are you listening to me?"

I had no idea who I was.

SOUNDTRACK

Yep, once again, I had a soundtrack to help me stay focused, and boy, it was huge this time. (It was a big challenge. What can I say?) If you can't afford a gazillion CDs, hey, do what I do: Download them from iTunes or one of the other fine music services where the artists receive compensation per song. Please don't steal. Mother Nature doesn't like it when you steal, and I think we've established what happens when you make her mad...

Battleflag... Lo Fidelity Allstars

Extreme Ways... Moby

Come Undone... Duran Duran

Objection (Tango)... Shakira

Push It... Garbage

Let's Get It Started (Spike Mix)... Black Eyed Peas

Goodnight Moon... Shivaree

Virtual Insanity... Jamiroquai

Stop Don't Panic... Jamiroquai

Superstition... Stevie Wonder

You Haven't Done Nothing...Stevie Wonder Angry Johnny... Poe

Molly's Chamber... Kings of Leon

Red Rain... Peter Gabriel

Twilight Zone... Golden Earring

(The System of)

Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether... Alan Parsons Project

Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)... The Offspring

Mustang Sally... The Commitments

Vertigo...U2

No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature... The Guess Who

Thunder... Prince

Tusk... Fleetwood Mac

S.A.L.T... The Orb

Shiver... Maroon

Gel... Collective Soul

Where the River Flows... Collective Soul

Angel... Sarah McLachlan

Oh, Berta, Berta... Tony Furtado

Passive... A Perfect Circle

The River... Joe Bonamassa

Bodies... Drowning Pool

Read on for a sneak peek at

Thin Air

the next book in Rachel Caine's exciting

Weather Warden series!

Available from ROC in July 2007 There were worse things than being naked, freezing, and alone in a forest, I was finding out.

There was being naked, freezing, not alone, and not sure who the hell you were. And having people depending on you.

That was worse.

Lewis--the one who'd found me, the tall ragged-looking specimen with the cheekbones--had put my silence down to shock, which was probably not far from the truth. When I just clung to him, shivering in the frigid wind, he finally stripped off his down jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I watched him, shivering and numb, clutching the down coat hard around me. It smelled of dirt and feathers and sweat.

"Say something," he commanded. I didn't. I couldn't. All I could do was shake. What was that in his eyes? Anguish? Fury? Love? Hate? I had no frame of reference for him, or for what he was feeling.