You've never been happier to see anyone in your life. With Willem's back turned, this is the best time for you to do something, anything: hit him, kick him, choke him out with your legs. But your limbs feel too heavy, too sore. You try to kick your leg up, but your body doesn't seem to respond to your brain.

Levi takes another step in, blade still pointed at Willem, and his free hand swipes up to his hair to move his wet bangs out of his eyes. "You fucking idiot," he says with a scowl, eyes shifting to you. "Made me come out in a fucking storm."

Somehow, you laugh. "Sorry," you croak.

Ethel drags herself across the hay. "Will," she calls.