Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Luka's Dawn

Wednesday is traditionally "Work in Progress Day" in the indie publishing world. Today, I'm sharing with you an excerpt from a short story series I'm working on, November Snow Epilogue Stories.  Major SPOILER ALERT for those who have not yet finished She Marches Through Fire!

These tales focus on Luka's life after the loss of November at the end of November Snow Book 3. Here's a peek at Luka's Dawn, Episode 1.

“When was the last time you ate?” Raina asked her brother.

Luka shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“That fairy, Briar, put a hex on you to bind you from killing or enthralling people. But you can still feed on them. And you can hunt, enthrall, and kill animals, no problem,” she reminded him, for the thousandth time. “There’s moose and deer. Bears, if you need to get some feelings out. Wolves.”

“I am well aware of the particulars of my magical leash, dear sister, as well as of the menu,” he replied coldly. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat to heal, Luka. You know that,” she scolded.

He looked up from the page he was reading. For once, he appreciated his much despised father. At least the old bastard had thoroughly stocked his hideaway with books. Luka and Raina had been there four months, and he hadn’t yet run out of ways to hide from his own thoughts.

“I don’t care,” he replied.

“Obviously not. But I do,” she countered. “And November would.”

“Then maybe she shouldn’t have gone and gotten herself killed for people who didn’t deserve her sacrifice,” he spat, shocked at his own vehemence. He reached up to his mouth and felt fangs there.

“Anger is a normal part of grief, you know,” Raina pointed out patiently, taking a seat across from him.

“You don’t seem angry,” he retorted.

“I just took all mine out on a bear,” she replied. “And, for the record, I’m not hungry, either. But I’m also not going to act like a baby and starve myself for spite. You’re extra annoying when you’re haven’t fed. Go eat.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Only to please you, dear sister,” he acquiesced, setting aside his volume. Only to shut you up, dear sister, he groused silently.

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