The sky extended its pitiful crying by the next day. But the lightning and thunder finally stopped in the middle of the night.
Sleep didn't engulf me until dawn when the sun should have risen, and its gentle ray peeked at the once darkened horizon.
Ysabel went to bed shortly after we finished the cup of tea.
Knowing a part of her story allowed me to see Ysabel differently.
I pity her and the inner turmoil she must be suffering. The love she thought she had with Bronn was becoming different from what she had imagined.
It may not be the right time to say this, but love takes time.
From what I had gathered, Ysabel was too young to understand what it was like and what her perception of it was.
She identified love as an attachment. When Bronn stole her from his uncle's grasp, she thought he had saved her.
