Others ran and bled and gasped and that was something I understood.
*thinks it's nice that you're finally beginning to make some sense*
*in a half-whisper* Sometimes trees gasp. They shiver but I don't fall out and I say, "hush, little cherry (or birch or oak or Silva or Henry)". Even though I don't like the shouting, either.
*eyes you expectantly* *sees a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye and smiles in encouragement*