My arms go around his legs, and I know I should feel shame at this, should be concerned about relying on his strength yet again when I have barely finished bandaging him from the last time I hurt him.

But I cannot feel anything but fear, and worry, and... and love, as I clutch convulsively at him. He may not understand me, my voice is thick with tears, but I murmur, "I thought -- thought I'd lost you..."