No," Lana said, "I'm not going to heal your scratch." "Good," Sanjit said. "Good? Why good?" "Because when you hold my hand, I don't want it to be work for you.
Michael GrantThe warrior who had gone out from the lake to save his people by slaying the evil one was now just a boy sitting in the dirt with his fingers in a mane of blond hair. He stared at nothing. Expected nothing. Planned nothing. Just sat.
Michael Grant