BLOGS

This is very much a first draft and will have many revisions before I'm done, but I wanted to give you a little taste of what I'm working on: 

    The wind swept over the jagged edges of the snow capped mountain and across the valley. I braced myself against the frigid gusts. Spring was past, the grass was only just fading into the mass of dry golden blades of summer, yet the wind was as cold as any blustery winter day as it swept off the glacier. 
    I smelled underlying scents of the ancient lands, flexing and swaying under the dying sun, red in the fading sky. I realized I was waiting for the moon to rise. Dark descended, but the land was not quiet. It came alive as dusk encroached on the day, the sky darkening. 
    The individual scents of the awakening animals flared into awareness, my nose twitching with each new smell. The scurrying of tiny creatures about their business, the soft hoot of the old owl, all of my senses were heightened as the sky glowed with the moonrise. 
    Somewhere, not too far away, I smelled the hot scent of asphalt, exhaust fumes, the occasional rumble of a truck. 
    More than scent, more than sounds, more than the growing knowledge that this was not just a dream… 
    The moon rose above the sparkling glacier, rose over the black mountain [sleeping, she is only sleeping, she will wake soon], sharp against a starry sky, cold black on a velvet black, and the voice rose in my throat like bubbles rising from the bottom of an algae covered pond, unknown, unseen, unheard until they burst at the surface. 
    It seemed natural when the icy wind touched, caressed my throat and the howl burst from my upturned muzzle.  

    Chapter 1 

    Sweating, I sat straight up in bed. For a few seconds everything was hazy, as distant as the mountain in my dream. I snapped the rest of the way into awareness and realized I was still in my little RV, still parked at the rest area off of Interstate 5. 
    I wrinkled my nose. 
    “Dang, it still smells like dog in here.” 
    Both of the rat terriers stuck their noses out of the covers and looked at me, whimpering softly in the dark. 
    “Do you two need another bath?” I grumbled, “I swear, you stink worse than the wolf pen at the zoo.” 
    Both sets of ears perked up. Sugar yipped and Spice jumped up, wagging his little stump of a tail. 
    “Oh jeez”, I groaned. “You want out again?” 
    Both dogs squirmed out of the covers and started dancing on my chest. 
    “Just a minute, just a minute.” I pulled a leather jacket on over my jammies and scrabbled around for a moment looking for my boots and the leashes. Both dogs were running back and forth, jumping from the bunk to the door to the front seat and back again, barking in excitement. 
    “Shhhh” I growled in frustration and suddenly both dogs cowered. Puzzled, I looked down at them. “Come on you little turds…” Sugar rolled onto her back, eyes rolling. I reached down and picked up the little dog by her harness and rubbed her tummy. “Come on, come on, you’re a good little mutt,” I soothed them both as I reached across the floor for my moccasins. 
    By the time I managed to get them on, both little dogs were dancing in excitement again. 
    “Shhhh, shhhh” I hissed as we stepped out between the big rigs parked on either side of my little RV. The rumble of generators blocked the freeway noise. The smell of diesel made me wrinkle my nose again. 
    We made it past the rigs and to the grass before the dogs started barking again. 
    I didn’t try to quiet them; the truck drivers wouldn’t be able to hear them over the idling motors anyway. I shouldn’t have parked among the trucks, but all the smaller spaces were full when I’d pulled in at dusk and I was too tired to drive any farther. 
    Now though, the brisk wind was whipping past me, cutting through my pajama bottoms. Like my dream, the glacier on Shasta was gleaming pale under the full moon and bright stars. I shivered, pondering again the dreams. This wasn’t the first dream I’d had, they’d been coming since I was a child and now they were more and more frequent, more and more real each time.   
    A tug at the leashes brought me back to the present. Sugar was trying to lead us back to the RV while Spice wanted to find one more leaf to pee on. They were both shivering, so I made kissy noises at them. “Come on you two, come on. Back to bed now.” 
    It was as quiet as any rest area ever is, considering the freeway noise and generators idling, so when the stench of cigarette puffed out from behind the trailer, I was caught by surprise. Stupidly, I wasn’t expecting trouble here; I didn’t even have the .25 in my pocket. 
    Again I caught the scent of stale cigarette and the man stepped out in front of me. Phaw, he stank worse than the dogs. He stood in front of me, obviously waiting for me to step around him. 
    I stopped. If this was a waiting game, I’d wait as long as I needed. Patience is more than just a virtue, it’s a necessity to a hunter. I have just enough patience to make Great grandfather frown and tell me (again) that I need to learn to watch and wait before jumping into a situation. He taught me that lesson again and again until I finally got a clue. 
    So I waited, if not patiently, at least silently. 
    The stranger glowered at me. 
    I stood calmly, waiting to see what he was going to do next. The terriers were at my feet, quiet, which was completely unlike them, they would normally be acting like little fools, barking and snapping and straining at the end of the short leashes. 
    I dared to glance down at them, they were both pressed against my legs, one on each side, and shivering. Sugar whined quietly, looking at him intently. 
    When I looked up, he was sliding out of sight. A waft of corruption, of rotten meat came on the breeze. He was moving downwind, so I couldn’t track him by his stench. Hackles up, I carefully stepped forward, light on my feet, watching to see if he was circling behind or if he was waiting on the other side of the rig. All my senses were screaming trap, trap, trap, as I stepped carefully past the corner of the trailer, past the huge wheels. Both little dogs were lifting their noses, sniffing the air. Sugar’s head whipped around and she growled. 
    It was barely enough warning, I braced myself as a huge arm wrapped around my neck and hot breath warmed my ear. The stench of rotten meat made me gasp as the arm tightened. It didn’t feel like an arm, it felt like the coils of a snake, scales rubbing my neck. He lifted me off my feet, pulling me up and back against him. My heart was pumping harder, faster as he tightened around my neck and the world started to go gray and fuzzy. 
    But I’m a lot stronger than I look. 
    Reaching up, I pulled his arm away from my neck. Gasping, I managed to get my other hand to my open jacket. Grasping the blue-green sunstone that hung on the silver chain between my breasts, I breathed deeply, again and again, and felt heat of the stone and its strength filling me. 
    I growled and the arm loosened, startled, as I steadily started pulling away. Leaning forward, I got my feet back on the ground, lowered my head and growled again, instinctively, pulling harder. Sugar and Spice whimpered as my strength grew and the world sharpened into focus. Still holding my sunstone, I grasped the arm trying to hold onto me, pulling it down and out. Letting the sunstone swing free, I got both hands on his arm as he scrabbled on the asphalt. 
    It was only a few seconds but it seemed like hours as he flipped up and over me, crashing to the ground. 
    A truck door slammed open and a shout, “Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing to her?” 
    There was no time to look as he scrambled up and dived behind the trailer. The adrenaline was throbbing through me as I took another deep breath and gathered the leashes up. 
    A lilting tenor voice behind me, “Damn girl, what did you do to that fool?” 
    I breathed again, deeply, and tucked the sunstone back under my shirt before I turned. “My parents made sure I knew martial arts, they were always nervous about me being so small.” I smiled, careful to keep my face from showing anything other than the flush of adrenaline. 
    “Whew, I just happened to hear your little dog bark and looked out in time to see him grab you.” He barked a laugh, his soft lilting brogue growing as he spoke, “Lassie, I thought he had you until you got your feet on the ground and threw him right over. Ayyyy, it was like being back in the old country, it was…” 
    I looked again at his burly figure, his broad open face, the sandy-red hair shot withgray. 
    “Are you from Wales?” I asked. 
    “Aye, yeah, when I get wrought up me vowels give me away, don’t they?” He looked at me, looked away from my eyes. “Ayyyy, lassie, there’s some of the old country in you too, I can see it in your eyes.” 
    He hesitated, decided, and stuck his hand out, “Sullivan, Marty Sullivan. I drive that Kelly green Peterbilt over there, the one with the double sleeper and the Celtic cross on the door.”  
    I took his hand carefully, but he didn’t react when I touched him, so I knew he wasn’t of the Fae. So I shook his hand firmly, his large hand enveloping my smaller fingers. 
    Then he did surprise me. 
    “Ayyy, child, ye have the old country in you, but I feel the Great Spirit in you too.” He leaned a little closer and looked about, then said in a lower tone, “Be careful little woman, there’s much ado in the world these days and only the Good Lord Himself can say where it will lead.” 
    He saw the surprise on my face; I didn’t recover quickly enough to hide it. So I smiled instead, “Thank you my brother, I didn’t realize you were aware of the Little People.” 
    He looked around again, “Not just the Little People. I didn’t get me granny’s far sight, but she left me enough to know when the moon rises and the Great Powers walk, that I shouldn’t be out in the night air. And lassie, neither should you, so I’ll wish you a good night and watch to be sure you get into your RV without any harm.” 
    He knelt quickly and patted Sugar and Spice. Strange, strange, they don’t take to strangers; normally they’d be barking and snapping at his fingers. Instead, they’re licking his hand and wagging their little tails like he was a long lost friend. 
    I shook his hand once again, smiling. There’s no sense of Fae about him, yet he knows that there’s more to me than it looks. I’ll have to ask Granddad who he is. Tugging the leashes, we walked quickly to the RV. 
    I looked back as I unlocked and opened the door. Marty was still standing there, watching and my vision doubled for a second as he raised a hand, the flicker of moonlight on the long steel blade in his hand, he was taller, slimmer, younger, with long red hair bound in a green band, wrapped in a grey mist, and my vision flicked back to normal. There was only a stocky red-headed man waving farewell. 
    I raised a hand in return and wondered what he saw as I stepped inside and locked the door. 
    “Damn” I muttered, “It really, really stinks of dog in here.” 
    Both terriers jumped up into bed, burrowing under the covers, Sugar sticking just her nose and bright eyes out, on guard, watching me as I stripped out of my clothes. 
    I double checked the locks before I stepped into the tiny shower. The hot water was good; I scrubbed the sweat off and felt myself calming down as the stink of stale cigarettes and corruption and dirty dog washed down the drain. I was quick, I’d just dumped the tank the day before, and I didn’t want to dump it again – at least not until daylight. 
    As I toweled my hair dry, I looked at myself in the foggy mirror. 
    Blue-green eyes, ringed in dark blue and flecked with gold, looked back, framed by dark eyelashes and brows two shades darker than my glossy, almost black, auburn hair. I’m petite like my mother. I also have her Celtic temper and when I’m angry my eyes go yellow with rage. 
    I have my Dad’s skin, soft, smooth dark olive, not quite as fair as my Cherokee cousins’ and with a warmer undertone. 
    I’m not especially pretty, Mother’s eyes and auburn hair married with Dad’s Black Indian heritage, plus a short nose and full lips makes me more exotic than beautiful. 
    And like all of my Brothers and Sisters of Color in America, I have pretty much heard it all, from the most vile racist garbage to the oh-so-condescending liberals who are sure they know just how to help me conform to the greater society – whether I like it or not. Yet, even though I’m not “good enough” to be treated equally, I’m sure good enough for them to try to get next to. 
    I often wondered, as I deflected yet another unwanted pass, What would he think if he knew I wasn’t human? Would he try anyway or would he shy away, frightened in finding that the old fairy tales are more than true, that the Fae and more than the Fae, that the People still walk this earth? 
    Ah, I thought, Stop yourself now, this is an old battle, you don’t need to fight it tonight. 
    Tonight, now tonight was more than strange. I felt again the stranger’s skin against my neck. It was like the skin of a snake, cool and scaly, not at all like his outward appearance of a man. And when he disappeared around the truck, did he actually walk or was it more like a slither, like a snake? 
    And Marty. I must ask Granddad about Marty. He isn’t what he appears to be. The Sight revealed him as someone older and younger, ancient in the old country’s ways. I could see it, even though I couldn’t feel it when he touched my hand. 
    He felt familiar; though I was sure I’d never met him before.