DISCULPA PERO YO NO FUI LA QUE ESCRIBIO ESO, MI AMIGA ME COMENTÓ QUE IGUAL A ELLA LE DEJARON UN MENSAJE , LO QUE PASA ES QUE DEJE MI HI5 ABIERTO Y DE HECHO NO SE SI CHECASTE PERO MI INFORMACION ME LA CAMBIARON. ADEMAS NO TE CONOZCO.... Y CREEME SERIA INCAPAZ DE ESCRIBIRTE ALGO ASI...Y TE COMPRENDO LO DE TU RESPUESTA YO HUBIERA HECHO LO MISMO...
ola. gracias por el coment de la foto. spero q podamos estar en contacto para poder llegar ser amigos. cuidese
As she watched, crimson blood welled up from the wood, spreading along the table’s surface. The pool ran over the table’s edge and flowed in rivulets to the stone floor. But that was not the worst. As she stood frozen, a distant cry of pain and shock rose from the spreading pool. Raising a fist to her throat, the cloaked figure backed away. What have I done? Turning on a heel, she fled out the door and into the maze of halls. But even the shadows could not hide her from the echoing cry of a wounded wit’ch. Gods above, forgive me! Writhing in a tangle of bedsheets, Elena clutched her hand to her chest. Her palm felt as if it were on fire. Through the red haze of agony, she barely registered the loud pounding on her chamber door. “Elena!” It was Er’ril. His yell gave her an anchor to focus upon. She freed her hand from her sheets, expecting to see it wounded and raw. But in the room’s predawn gloom, her hand appeared unharmed. As the pain slowly waned, Elena rolled from her bed and staggered toward the door. The pounding continued. A board in the door cracked as Er’ril increased his assault. “Elena! Answer me!” Trembling, Elena unhooked the door’s latch and swung open the door. She found Er’ril disheveled and red faced. Over his shoulder, she spotted his blanket tossed and rumpled in the chair by the hearth. Last night, the plainsman had fallen asleep by the fire as the discussions of Weirgates and Chi had dragged well past midnight. Mama Freda had encouraged Elena to let Er’ril sleep where he sat. ‘Are you hurt?“ he asked desperately, sword in hand. With the pain now no more than a dull ache, Elena could finally think again. “I’m all right,” she said, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “What happened?” Er’ril asked, his eyes wandering from her toes to her head. Elena remembered she was only dressed in a long linen shift. Suddenly aware, she backed from the door to her wardrobe and slipped into her robe. “I don’t know,” she said. “I awoke with my hand burning in pain.” She shoved her arm through the robe’s sleeve to show Er’ril. As her hand popped from the cuff, Elena gasped at the sight. With the light from the main room’s torches now illuminating her bedchamber, Elena saw her hand was not as unaffected as she had first thought.
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