"Nila!" Oliver said, like a child, as he threw himself at her, and grasped her, the fear controlling him like a puppet. No control over his own body. The slight thought that he might have lost his own mind. The embarrassment that came with that. His body shook, and he squeezed Nila with fingers firmly filled with fear.
"What's wrong?" Nila asked, her voice high, but gentle, a mother soothing a child. No accusation in them, no contempt, only care. She patted his head, and helped him. "What's happened?"
Oliver shook his head wordlessly, shivering.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
