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ago.
    ‘Are you OK?’ Beckett asks when he catches up with her. Beckett’s features are like chiselled rock – strong and solid. His deep brown eyes radiate warmth. He
has a shock of white hair that splits his jet-black dreadlocks. His is the first face she looks for in the morning and the last image she sees before she falls asleep each night.
    Harper shrugs.
    He tugs at the frayed knots on her arms. ‘You looked like you were being attacked by butterflies with these pieces flapping as you ran.’
    She likes the image of butterflies lifting her off the Mountain.
    ‘Why don’t we find you some clothes that fit properly?’ His finger finds a small patch of skin. She melts at his touch but elbows him away so maybe he won’t
notice the red rising in her cheeks.
    ‘I don’t mind using the scraps.’ She adjusts the material to cover any exposed skin.
    They stare out at the Man-Made Mountains below. Lucky winds a figure of eight around their legs. Harper recalls the lights in the valley last night and shivers.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Beckett says, draping his arm across her shoulders.
    She curls into him ever so slightly. ‘I can’t believe I was Out There once, but . . .’
    ‘You’ve remembered something, haven’t you?’
    She nods, too afraid to put these new memories into words.
    She keeps staring straight ahead, even though she can feel his gaze upon her. ‘Last night, the lights in the Man-Made Mountains triggered something. I’ve been seeing
flashes of images, nothing that makes sense. It’s like fragments of a story.’
    ‘Maybe it’s just a dream,’ Beckett says, and draws her in.
    She closes her eyes so she can concentrate on his touch, but the visions start again. Something is emerging from the darkness. It’s coming after her. Her eyes spring open and
search the landscape.
It’s not real,
she tells herself, but it feels as if she’s being watched.
    ‘I think I’m remembering things from before,’ she says as the images come into focus. She’s dreaming and remembering at the same time. ‘There are three
bodies lying on the floor. There’s blood everywhere. My ears ring with the most horrible bangs.’ She covers her ears because the sounds seem to ricochet inside her.
    ‘You are safe,’ Beckett says. ‘The Great I AM will protect you.’ He pauses and places a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll protect you.’
    She wants him to hold her and make everything else go away.
    ‘Beckett,’ Harper says, ‘about those lights last night.’
    ‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, and scoops Lucky into his arms. The cat’s fur looks chocolate brown in the bright sunlight.
    ‘Beckett, I’ve been thinking . . .’ Her voice trails off. Lucky squirms in Beckett’s arms and Beckett releases her.
    ‘Dangerous thing to do.’ He playfully knocks his shoulder into Harper’s.
    ‘I, well, it’s just . . .’ She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He said those lights last night formed a heart. Maybe it is a sign. Maybe it’s time
for her to confess that her feelings for him have changed, deepened. Maybe he feels it too.
    Suddenly Lucky crouches as if preparing to pounce. Her black pointy ears flatten against her head.
    ‘Did you hear that?’ he whispers.
    Harper sweeps Beckett behind her. Adrenaline erases everything except her need to protect him. Lucky races off.
    ‘I thought I heard something,’ Beckett says calmly. He never panics, because he believes the Great I AM watches over him.
    Harper hears it now. The faintest shuffle as foot displaces dirt. It could be Finch patrolling the Mountain, but his strides are usually swift and uneven.
    There it is again. She triangulates the sound. It’s coming from somewhere below. ‘Wait here while I check it out,’ she says and heads down the Mountain. He
doesn’t obey; instead he follows her.
    Harper notices swirls of dust dancing low to the ground. The path dead-ends at a nearly sheer wall of rock. A Forreal-shaped figure is scrambling up