Reseña del libro "Callyandra (en Inglés)"
Callyandra didn't hear the retreating footsteps that were being carefully placed to avoid detection. Completely unaware of her surroundings, or time, she gradually came to consciousness. Her only true awareness was the sensation of having been asleep, and the feeling that maybe she was sort of laying down, with her head resting against something soft. Her tongue felt thick, and it wouldn't do what she wanted it to do. She was afraid it was going to fill her throat and choke her. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't. Her eyes felt swollen shut. Something wasn't right. This wasn't how she was supposed to feel. Her head ached terribly, and felt like it was just too heavy for her neck to support the weight, so it kept falling back against.... against something.... soft... but not her bed pillow... or the couch... just something soft. The smells around her were different from... From what? From normal? Maybe. What was normal? She wasn't sure. She couldn't think straight. It was hard to concentrate, and nothing seemed to make sense. She felt sleepy. Very sleepy. Sleepy enough that she wasn't sure that she could wake up. Was this a bad dream? Where was she? Something inside her made her feel very afraid and she wasn't afraid of very many things in life. She was trying desperately to wake up enough to open her eyes, but nothing seemed to be working... She was in pain. If she could get past the pain enough to fall asleep, then she would be able to ignore the pain for a while. Callyandra rested her head back against the soft "pillow" and allowed herself to drift off to sleep again. She understood that sleep, at this point, would be a great healer. So, sleep she did; a thick, deep sleep that bordered on unconsciousness. As she slept, the man quietly continued to slip away through the trees, leaving Callyandra alone in the woods, wet from the pond he'd thrown her into, and then had dragged her out of again.
