Brielle woke with the blankets twisted around her legs and the distinct impression that she had been running. She remained still for several seconds, listening to the familiar morning sounds of the townhouse: water moving through the pipes behind the wall, a cupboard opening downstairs, the rattle of a cart passing along the street. None of it seemed unusual anymore, although she heard each sound with a clarity that would have unsettled her a week ago. She was beginning to adjust to that part; the dream was harder to dismiss.
There had been trees, wet earth beneath her feet, and cold air rushing over her face as she ran. Brielle couldn't remember where she had been going, only the pleasure of moving without roads or walls around her. When she pushed aside the blankets, the muscles in her
