Hope was lying on animal fur, but the ground wasn’t particularly soft. By deductive reasoning, the animal was definitely not alive, and somehow that made Hope want to relish the softness and warmth. It would be delightful to take a nap, if only these people would leave her alone.

“You must clear as much water as you can,” another voice said. A woman’s voice, although she sounded really young.

More pressure, this time from both her back and chest. She wanted to tell them to stop. To let her be. Didn’t they know how tired she was?

Her eyes fluttered open, and a strange face with blue eyes looked up at her. Whoa, he looked pissed.

The man swore again, and she tried to wave away his worry. She was fine. Just a little tired.

There was a girl there, too. With copper curls, a tall, willowy apparition of beauty.

They were talking about her, but their voices babbled and broke like the sound of water. And it was too difficult to focus on the words. They sounded worried, and she wanted to tell them whatever it was, it would be okay. But first, she was going to rest her eyes.

It was dark, the air thick as pitch, and she tried to push her way through. There was something there that she needed to get to, and she knew she cared a lot, but every move was just so difficult. Still, she wasn’t a quitter.

She was at the park with her mom again, and this time she saw the little girl sitting on the park bench, swinging her legs. She saw her mom scoop her up into her arms and run as a man chased them. Her whole life was hiding. And she’d hated it.

Hope stirred and her senses assaulted her. She wasn’t on the fur anymore. It was far too soft, and the air smelled of lavender. Her eyes were too heavy, and try as she might, she couldn’t lift them.

“I know he wants her to wake up, but she isn’t ready yet . . .”

The voice faded, and Hope snuggled into the comfort of darkness. Her mom would be there when she woke up, like she’d always been. And they would move, her mom’s persistent attempt to find safety, like they always had.