Nate's eyes shot open, his breath ragged and chest heaving as he bolted upright in his bed. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The images of Madison's blood-stained figure, the icy being's blade, and the empty camp replayed in his mind like a cruel echo.
Suddenly, realization struck him.
"It was a dream," he whispered, his voice shaky. Then louder, "It was a fucking dream!"
A wave of relief washed over him, and he collapsed back against his bedroll, laughing softly. "Thank God," he muttered. "She's okay. She's fine."
His joy was short-lived as his tent flap rustled, and Madison stepped in. Her expression was calm, though she raised a curious brow at Nate, who was already on his feet and looking at her like she'd just returned from the dead.
Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
