Hello, Wednesday! As I’m writing this post I currently have 2,000 words — but hopefully by the time this post becomes live, it’ll be higher than that. So today (because I’m busy writing) I thought I would share an excerpt, and this’ll be a short post. Let me know what you think of in it in the comments. (Note: This is completely unedited. Beware!)
I am currently in this stage right now… Wonder how many days that’ll last for?? (Spoiler: Not many.)
You can read the first chapter (soon to be posted more) on my Wattpad account, here.
Once upon a time, there was a girl with horns of iron. They shone so brightly, so fiercely, that most had to shield their gazes from her face; she was only a Vár, a simple low-life, but she was also the Star of the Evening, the girl whose iron power was insurmountable to most.
But fate always told stories in irony. She spent her days in the slums, her nights in the forests of her Mother God, and her mornings clinging to the shadows, trying not to be seen. She wore a hooded cloak always, one big enough to cover her horns, but one that clinched tight around her body so she seemed small, insignificant. She’d stolen it from a passing lady, and the fine embroidery had long since gone to seed; the thin slivers of gold had been ripped out and sold to passing merchants, and the woolen black material was becoming threadbare and tattered.
Days and nights made no difference to this girl. The nights were darkness, her shadows; the days were her golden power, her fear. She slipped through the alleys of passing towns, stealing what food she could, uprooting carrots from gardens she happened to past, and then moving on, farther north, farther away from civilisation. She would pass vast canyons with hollow air whipping between them, she would cross rickety bridges and stone arched bridges. She would wind her way through the mountains, through gullies and valleys, and over hills. She’d pass the corpses of children with their stomachs torn out, leading pale bits of blood and gore across the road, and she’d watch as the crows and ravens feast on the dead. She would avert her eyes and look away, slinking into the shadows away from mankind, lest she become one of those corpses.
She travelled vast expanses of land on her own, simply trying to survive.
She’d sometimes travelled with others, of course, but they’d always been caught.
Rhen often wondered what it would like to be in one place for more than a day, but she could not afford to think like that. If she stayed in the one place for too long . . . she would inevitably be caught, and she couldn’t imagine that. When Vár were caught—they weren’t seen again.
She would be no exception.