Ethan's throat releases another anguished cry, his hands contorting the covers, breath escaping in harsh, laboured pants. He looks down at his clenched hand, half-expecting to find mangled flesh bound by staples digging into his skin. The sweat dripping down his forehead and sticking to his clothes transports him back to the oppressive heat and humidity of the Louisiana swamps.

His outburst of terror is quickly overcome by guilt as he notices you stirring from your slumber beside him. He can’t help but mentally berate himself for ruining yet another tranquil night.