Friday, March 11, 2022

A Reading: Wyrd of the Wolfkin

Wyrd of the Wolfkin

Friday Afternoon Reading at Writing Works Wonders

Hello everyone!  Today, on the Writing Work Wonder's Open-Mic Podcast - an ACB (American Council of the Blind) event- I was honored to be invited to read a selection from my premiere story, Wyrd of the Wolfkin.  You can find this short story at Amazon @ https://www.amazon.com/Wyrd-Wolfkin-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B0853G94ND/ , and I'd like to share the excerpt I raed with you right here.  Thank you for tuning in and listening!

You can find the stream at https://streaming.live365.com/a46090, and the Wonderful Ladies of Writing Works Wonders here: https://www.writingworkswonders.com/ 


Brandr and Arindel were up before the sun rose and broke camp in the murky gloom. They hiked through the thick fog, the way becoming both narrower and steeper, now barely more than a game trail. The wood around them deepend, the endless rows of ash and oak occasionally broken up by stands of silver-barked birch. They passed through hidden mountain meadows, where the last of summer blooms struggled in the cold while bees and butterflies darted back and forth. Brandr lifted his hand and a blue-and-silver winged swallowtail landed on it, fluttering against him. He smiled, but when it took off his miasma quickly returned.  




The day’s trails were too hard for Brandr and Arindel to speak much, and even Fraki, his black-and-silver furred elkhound, was tired by the time the sun started to set. The wind’s croon as it whipped through the crags, stones, and trees was haunting, even as it drove gauzy clouds across the sky. Brandr found them a spot nestled between some massive boulders, and they quietly worked to set camp. They had just set the fire when the moon rose, half-hidden behind the wispy curtain of clouds.

The first rays of moonlight had just begun to spread across the mountainside when howls rose to greet it.

Arindel sat by the fire, arms wrapped around her legs, and listened. “How many?”

“Not quite a whole pack,” Brandr murmured. “And far off.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry. It was a good summer and only now the start of Autumn. There’s plenty of game for them to hunt this low.”

“This low, he says.”

“There will be less of them as we go deeper and higher,” he continued.

“How much deeper do we have to go?”

“About two more days. We’ve been traveling on the perimeter of the Crown up till now. Tomorrow we reach the gorge, and we’ll follow it into the Crown’s heart.”

“Delightful.” She sighed.

The trail continued to rise the next day, to where regal fir and hemlock appeared in deep stands, and the high maples were resplendent in flashes of red and violet and indigo. The path curved around a gorge, deep, its still green trees in rows hundreds deep as the land sloped downward. The path curled around until it reached a long bridge over a narrow pass, and the sound of the river rushing far below filled the grey day. Brandr and Arindel began to cross the bridge, a once-mighty oak long since cut down in a single piece and laid across the gorge. The ravens perched on the rope-rails flew off into the air as the travelers passed.

That evening they set their camp in another cleft, and once more the wolves howled through the night.

“I thought you said there would be less of them,” Arindel said, frowning.

“There should be,” Brandr said. “We’re further up. There’s less game.” He frowned. “Unless they’re following us. Which makes no sense.”

“Why not?”

“Because wolves don’t follow humans unless they’re starving,” Brandr replied. “There’s easier game. Fraki?”

The dog looked up, pointed ears twitching and turning with his gaze, and then looked back at brandr and tilted his head with a little shake.

The Skardr nodded, reaching down to scratch the thick fur of the dog’s neck. “Good. They’re still not close. Still… we’ll take watches tonight and keep the fire high.” He chewed on his lower lip, his gaze clouded like a sky awaiting the storm. “It will be fine.”

Arindel could tell he was lying.

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