Then I was lifted up off the ground, the boy still clutched in my arms, and set on my knees. The Guardian’s hands and eyes roamed over my body, searching for injury as he knelt beside me. “Where are you hurt?” His voice was frantic. “I’m okay.” We were alive. I sighed, hugging the boy. Later, I was sure my arms and legs would hurt like never before. But for now, we were alive. Thanks to the Guardian. He took my face in his hands, dropping his forehead to mine. His thumb traced my cheek, and tingles exploded on my skin. “You’re okay.” Was he reassuring me? Or himself? “I’m okay.” He leaned
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