Spluttering, Hazel floundered and fought the swirling water but the swiftness and chill, plus the bangs to her head combined with the weight of her sodden velvet dress tugging her under the surface was rapidly stealing consciousness.

Bits of Ray Mears' advice floated dream-like through her head. Flashes of the past--that tsumami with Marcus--came and went. This would never have happened with Marcus. An eddy swirled her round and she cried out when her back connected hard with a rock. Unfortunately, that meant she got a lungful of peaty Scottish river. The river tumbled her on and the dreamlike chill only deepened...