The Spirit Mask (fantasy)
The shaman Taqulittuq narrows her eyes against the glare on the snow. Her sled dogs run tirelessly, the sled runners whispering. Away beyond the lead sled dog, beyond the other sleds of her people that skim lightly before her, dark shapes are moving. Just behind the shapes, whiteness resolves itself into igloos. Another band, camped by the river. Her stomach clenches.
Ahead of her, Kenojuak, the leader of the band, laughs and hugs her husband. "Look!" she shouts. "We will camp beside friends tonight and take a few days' rest before we move on."
Happy murmurs surround Taqulittuq. The people have been travelling for some days now, as the days lengthen towards spring, and she knows they are ready for a brief rest. It would not do for them to grow overtired. Making sure they are fed is Kenojuak's responsibility, but their health is up to her.
She halts her sled dogs by the little cluster of igloos. The two bands are mingling, the air filled with excited chatter that swirls around her but does not touch her. They have not seen each other since the previous spring, and there is much gossip to be had. Births, young men and women newly come of age...and deaths.
"Taqulittuq," says a deep voice behind her.
Fanged Bunny Slippers
Another short from the Dream'verse! Joss Ravid is the hero of Queen's Man, due out April 1st. This takes place shortly before the beginning of Queen's Man, about four years after the events of His Faithful Squire. There's a handy chronology post over here on kdsarge.com.
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“Ravid?” Marchal called again, though none of the twenty people before him had the flaming red hair or the monster-sized ego of the man he was looking for. Brown and green and pale blue eyes regarded him, faces in many colors ready to laugh at Joss Ravid late again, but the eyes and face he sought were not there. Marchal sighed. The constant lateness he could overlook, considering Joss’ frequent extended shifts. But if he missed a briefing—then Marchal would have to discipline the loud little man, an act he’d been evading for months.
“Joss Ravid?” he called one last time at the end of his list, though the redhead was still clearly not present. Only this time he was answered, first by laughter from the back, then by a raspy but recognizable voice.
“Yeah, yeah.” Joss slipped between two standing men just as Marchal opened his mouth to scold. “I’m here; start the party.”
Life as a Moving Target...a continuation
Erin here. For this month's freebie I have written some poems about living with chronic illness. I wrote my first poetry chapbook, Life as a Moving Target, released in December 2010 by Turtleduck Press, about living and coping with fibromyalgia and intractable vertigo. When I was flailing about trying to come up with new(er) poems (my poetry muse is so weird sometimes), Siri suggested I go back to chronic illness. So here it is, three poems that are a sort of sequel to Life as a Moving Target. But don't worry if you haven't read it. It still makes sense, I promise. If you'd like to purchase a copy of Life as a Moving Target, go here.
Poetry of Love
Doing something a bit different for this month's and February's freebies. I've written poems that I wanted to share.
They explore the dark side of love. If you enjoy these, won't you check out my poetry chapbook, Without Wings? It's filled with poetry just like this.
