Settling motes of dust rasped against the back of her throat as she drew breath, making her cough. Her body prickled with unease. She hardly dared to believe that the earthquake was the end of the nightmare.
“Fletcher?” She dropped her threads, letting her makeshift shield crumble. She looked wildly around, scanning the trees—some fallen, some splintered—and the fractured forest floor. He was standing in a clearing, miraculously unharmed.
Roxanne raced toward him, leaping over a fallen log and passing the body of a rabbit who’d been trampled to death. Her heart lurched, but the rabbit was beyond help; Fletcher needed her now.
“Are you alright?” She skidded to a halt by his side. His fallow cheeks were bloodless and his eyes were wide. He was staring at the sky, his jaw slack with shock—
