She sank to her knees, sobbing, and was reaching out — stretching her arms as if in supplication — when a blow from behind struck her.

Searing pain shot through her, and she pitched forward, sprawling out, and at last a scream erupted from her throat.

And she woke up.

For a moment she lay still on her stomach, gasping for breath, trying to shake the last of the nightmare from her still-reeling mind.

The memory of the forest began to fade, and the grasping limbs and twigs of the trees retreated.

The snow was gone, and she felt only the bedsheet beneath her.

Yet the cold still gripped her. And the pain in her back, instead of fading away, was growing worse. She turned her head to one side and the sense that she was not alone was stronger than ever…

I’m asleep, she told herself. I’m still asleep, and this is only part of the nightmare.

She lay perfectly still, trying to will the last vestiges of the dream away, as she had willed herself not to scream while still held in the grip of the nightmare’s thrall.

Then she heard breathing.

Not the slow and steady breathing of a sleeping bedmate, nor the heavy breath of a lover.

No, this was the breath of an exultant beast, panting in rapture over its fallen prey, and as she lay on the bed trying to clear her mind and gather her wits, she knew with growing certainty that it was already too late.

The agony spreading through her body told her the predator had already struck.

Now, still lying facedown, she heard a change in the predator’s breathing.

Felt it gathering itself together.

Felt it coiling, and knew it was readying itself to strike again.