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Adrienne Young Biography

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“¿Quién fue el primero?" No preguntó quién era ni cómo sucedió, y se lo agradecí. Era la única vez que recordaba haber matado a alguien y sentir algo que no fuera solo superviviencia. (...) Al día siguiente, maté a cuatro. Y al siguiente a otros tres. Y no volví a llorar nunca más.”

“Levantó mi mano, la abrió y apoyó sus labios contra ella, y esa sensación me atravesó y me conectó a la realidad. Luego sus labios encontraron los míos en la oscuridad, suaves y cálidos, y encajaron perfectamente. "Qnd eldr. - susurré el grito de batalla contra sus labios. Respira fuego Sonrió. Luego puso su mano detrás de mi cabeza y besó mi mejilla. "Qnd eldr.”

“Over the stern, I could see the clouds rolling over the sea towards us. Hungry. I closed my eyes and drew the humid air into my chest. I'd spent my childhood in the face of storms just like her, many of them angrier than this one. It was the reason only the most daring traders sailed the Narrows. And even though I could feel her power in every bone, every muscle, there was something deep inside of me that opened its eyes from sleep when I felt it. It was terrifying, but familiar. As beautiful as it was deadly.”

“I'd never been to the Unnamed Sea, but my mother was born there. Her leathered skin and callused hands made her look as if she'd grown up on a ship, but she'd come to the Narrows on her own when she was no more than my age, finding a place on Saint's crew as a dredger and leaving her past in the Unnamed Sea behind. She would wrap her arms around me as we sat up on the mast with our feet dangling, and she would tell me about Bastian, the port city she called home, and the huge ships that sailed those deep water. Once, I asked her if she'd ever go back. If she'd take me there one day. But she only said she'd been born for a different life, and so had I.”

“She's saying something. My mother's words found me, there in the black. I pinched my eyes closed, her face coming into perfect view One long, dark red braid over her shoulder. Pale gray eyes the color of morning fog and the sea-dragon necklace around her neck as she looked up into the clouds above us. Isolde loved the storms. That night, the bell rang out and my father came for me, pulling me from my hammock bleary-eyed and confused. and when he put me in the rowboat, I screamed for my mother until my throat was raw. The Lark was already half-sunk, disappearing in the water behind us. My mother called it touching the soul of the storm. When she came upon us like that, she was taking us into her hart and letting us see her. She was saying something. And only then would we know what lay within her. Only then would we know who she was.”

“Si yo no te hubiera derribado esa noche en Aurvanger, ese Riki te hubiera matado." "Lo sé." "Si yo no te hubiera clavado la flecha en el hombro, otro te habría clavado una flecha en el corazón. Si no te hubiera elegido como dýr, podrías estar en cualquiera de esas aldeas que han ardido en la montaña." "Lo sé." -repetí. "Volvería a hacerlo." -dijo- "Todo.”

“De pronto, volví a ser consciente de las profundidades gélidas y opacas que fluían bajo nuestros pies, esperando la grieta más pequeña para empujarnos hacia el fondo. La sensación era aterradora, como si hubiera algo que me amarrara a él. Porque si uno de los dos caía en la oscuridad, el otro iría detrás.”