Not Edited, yet.
I awoke with adequate strength to put up a physical fight with Eragon. Or so I had thought.
The side where Eragon laid the night before was empty. I recall running my hand through and feeling the cold sheet against my palms before my eyes flew open. Funny enough though, as soon as I opened them, I found the most beautiful scene before me.
His back to me, Eragon stood by the wooden window with flower patches dipped into the little holes by the woods. It gave a beautiful contrast with the scene of Eragon standing, with both of his hands lifted to hold onto the window panes. The muscles on his shoulders flexed, and I couldn't help remembering just how they had felt beneath my touch.
Now, however, instead of the long breeches from yesterday, he wore a short white breech th
