Her flashlight beam finally found him. He hung limply in his harness, head tilted down, hands over his ears. Her flashlight beam traced his heaving shoulders. They were spattered with mud and grime, but there were no insects on them. She could breathe again. “Look at me,” she ordered. “There are no hornets.” “I know,” he muttered. “That’s why I said I think I’m having a panic attack. I know there are no hornets.”
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