CampNaNo Update: Week One

Seven days down and 10,843 words written. How I managed it is beyond me. This week has been hectic: my daughter’s sports day on Monday, she ran the Race for Life on Tuesday, and the car got a flat and I had to catch the bus everywhere (unnecessarily I might add.) I thought I didn’t have a spare tyre, only to find out that it’s an under the car, hiding from sight spare tyre. Who attaches a tyre to the underneath of a car?! At least my Dad and husband got a good laugh out of it. On top of that, I had to finish reading an ARC in time for release day, and sort out end of school teacher’s gifts.

On the bright side, my cabin mates are great, and I’m kind of glad I signed up late, otherwise I wouldn’t have joined this cabin of talented writers who like to chat as much as I do. It’s also nice to hear that I’m not the only one who has bum days.

Anyway, I start another week with a working car, and not so many sports related events to attend. If I hit another 10k, I will be 2/3 done!!

Here’s an excerpt from this weeks work:

The bird calls start again, and orbs of ethereal, white smoke appear, darting like comets through the glade. I count eight at a glance. Each wisp comes to a stop, evenly spaced out in a circle around us, and then transforms into a figure in a white gown.

I almost fall over my own feet in fright. The figures are female with hair as white as snow. The Coven. Lissa bows her head to the women and steps aside. One woman, with an impressive build and strong face, steps forward. Her straight hair reaches the backs of her knees and moves like a silk curtain.

“Princess Ezrahli,” she says, bowing her head to me. “Prince Reed.” She does the same to Reed. I’m still not accustomed to hearing Reed addressed as a Prince. “We have been expecting you. I’m Magdarra, I head The Coven.”

Staring in awe at the women surrounding us, I search for a feeling of unease that Lissa said I would be able to sense. There is nothing threatening about the women, they do not have aggressive stances or deceitful faces, if anything, they look serene- indifferent.

“I understand your wariness, Princess, but we can assure you that you are safe here. We mean you no harm.”

“You are not Yarnarian,” I say, studying every twitch, blink, and wrinkle on her face.

“No. I am Olysean. We are a varied bunch.”

“And Reed is welcome?”

Magdarra smiles, and some of the women chuckle lightly. “Prince Reed is very welcome. We are not the men haters that the fables would have people believe. I will explain more when we get back to the safety of home. It is not wise to linger outside of our perimeters for long.”

“Protection spells,” Reed states.

“Yes, Your Majesty. We are many, and when our spells work in harmony with each other, not even Lyerdith can breach our defences.” Magdarra places a reassuring hand on Reed’s shoulder. “But currently, we are not within our defences, and I have to insist that we wait no longer. Take my hand.”

Her hand is cool and frail, with an angular feeling from where her bones jut out beneath papery skin. Reed takes her free hand, albeit a little reluctantly, and then it feels as if the world has fallen away from me. It lasts only seconds, but an acidic taste of vomit floods my mouth. I manage to fight away the urge, but Reed succumbs, lurching to his knees to vomit in the vivid grass.

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 Content belongs to KJ.Chapman