" His reasoning was sound, but his remark about carrying me all the way to the river still rankled. “You speak as if I’m as heavy as an ox,” I said. “Last week I was a bundle of sticks.”
“You’re still too thin.”
“Perhaps if I gain some weight, you won’t call me a stick anymore.”
“You may hope to one day be a branch.”
I glanced at him sharply, unable to repress a little flutter of delight that he was bothering to joke with me.
“A log, even,” I suggested.
“Doubtful,” he said wryly. "

― Elly Blake , Frostblood (Frostblood Saga, #1)