Clouds of smoke billowed above the primitive hoghans of the small settlement.

Hannah panted - she was on the run from a group of Mexican-looking soldiers. Even though she'd never seen soldiers dressed like them in her life, she instinctively knew they were from Mexico, and they didn't mean well.

"Run!" she cried out to the people she met on her way through the village. In front of her, she saw burning hoghans and Navajo people trying to put out the fire with buckets of water. Hannah knew she was looking for someone. Someone who meant a lot to her. She bumped into fleeing villagers, tripped over her own feet, and scraped her knees when she fell down. Frantically, she tried to stay out of sight of the Mexicans on the village square by hiding underneath some thorny bushes.

And then, her eyes focused on a figure running across the square. He came closer, saw her lying there, but averted his eyes so he wouldn't alert the soldiers to her presence. Hannah stared up in utter confusion. That man who was trying to protect her was the man she'd been looking for. And it was Josh.

He looked older, about thirty years old, but it was definitely him. He was wearing traditional clothes and carrying a bow, which he now raised to draw the string and release an arrow at the approaching soldiers.

Behind him, a hoghan collapsed under its own weight, spitting up flames and smoke toward the sky. Hannah coughed and her eyes began to tear.

And then, she jolted awake, startled by the sound of her ringing phone. Hannah opened her eyes and wildly flailed her left arm to grab it from the bedside table.

"Hey, Nick," she groaned in a sleepy voice after glancing at the display. "You woke me up."

"Oops! Sorry. Just needed some directions to get to your house today."

Hannah quickly explained to Nick how to get to St Mary's Port, then threw her phone back on the bedside table. She stretched her arms and legs, staring up at the ceiling.

That dream. It had been so bizarre, and yet so life-like. She could still smell the burning wood and hear the villagers scream. She'd never dreamed in Spanish before, but the soldiers in her dream had spoken that language. She'd been able to understand them, even though they had a strange accent. In a flash, she remembered the way Josh had looked in her dream. Older, with a more worn and muscular body, and an alert attitude that made him look like a born warrior. And yet, his eyes had been the same when he looked at her. So intense, gentle and emotional.