And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. That is what I don't understand. Non. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways.
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