"I'm scared of them. What if they get me?"
"They're not going to get you," I said, drawing the blankets up beneath the youngest daughter's chin. Smoothing the covers with my hand, I took care to tuck her feet in so that she was wrapped up like a human calzone, as she likes.
"But they might get me."
"Sweetie, it's too dry in here. Leeches don't like the dry. They like wet, dark swampy water."...