Hold that thought, Amalia.
The bones of the bridge rattle and quake and the world errupts in such violent vibrations that your eyes blur and are forced shut. When you open them, you are standing knee deep in mud staring up at a tree whose equal is probably only the Mathair.
The bones of the bridge rattle and quake and the world errupts in such violent vibrations that your eyes blur and are forced shut. When you open them, you are standing knee deep in mud staring up at a tree whose equal is probably only the Mathair.
