Lonely Crone Giveaway - Week Three

Guess who is made of fail? That'd be me. Apologies for the late post, I can only say I've been ill and trying not to die. As a result, the giveaway shall be open through SUNDAY at 4pm Mountain Time.

And here are this week's AMAZING books. First we have a Skyla Dawn Cameron double feature!

First is the AMAZINGLY RESURRECTED River. This is a paper copy, which will be sent to the winner on October 31st. I cannot tell you how excited I am about this book.

Defiant, nocturnal, moody–though River sounds like a typical teenager, she’s anything but. River’s a werewolf.

The life of an alpha female wolf was irrevocably changed the night she was attacked and bitten, and awoke confused, alone, and human. Three years later, thrust into a world where she doesn’t belong and living in foster care, River barely tolerates humanity and still doesn’t know who bit her or why.
But River isn’t as alone as she previously thought; someone’s been watching her, someone who holds the answers she’s been seeking. And though the human who changed her seems to be a step ahead of her at every turn, River is determined to beat his game and return to her pack and mate.
As if being stuck in a world she hates, with a life she never asked for, and faced with a destiny she doesn’t want wasn’t bad enough, River still must find a way to survive every human’s greatest challenge: high school.



Next is the digital edition of Bloodlines, the first book in the amazing Demons of Oblivion series.

If you're in her way, it sucks to be you.

After three hundred years of unlife, narcissistic vampire Zara Lain has seemingly done it all, and she's now making a living as a successful thief-turned-assassin. Her newest assignment seems simple enough: kill the aging leader of the O'Connor coven and his only heir, and she'll have another ten million in the bank.

But in the dangerous world of the supernatural, few things are ever "simple."

When a massive assault decimates the continent's population of powerful witches and warlocks, and its orchestrator has vampires being hunted down and captured, Zara realizes the tables have turned and now she'll be playing the hero. Forced to join with a smart-mouthed fellow vampire, a demonologist who's also a fan of hers, a recently widowed--and frequently brooding--warlock, and her best friend's mom, Zara's grudgingly willing to do what she can to save the day.

If only people would stop ruining all her outfits...

Finally,  Seleste deLaney gives us Badlands, the epic American steampunk novel.


After a brutal Civil War, America is a land divided. As commander of her nation's border guards, Ever is a warrior sworn to protect her country and her queen. When an airship attacks and kills the monarch, Ever must infiltrate enemy territory to bring home the heir to the throne, and the dirigible Dark Hawk is her fastest way to the Union.

Captain Spencer Pierce just wants to pay off the debt he owes on the Dark Hawk and make a life for himself trading across the border. When the queen's assassination puts the shipping routes at risk, he finds himself Ever's reluctant ally.

As they fly into danger, Ever and Spencer must battle not only the enemy but also their growing attraction. She refuses to place her heart before duty, and he has always put the needs of his ship and crew above his own desires. Once the princess is rescued, perhaps they can find love in the Badlands—if death doesn't find them first...

As before, comment to enter, the giveaway will be live on Twitter on Sunday. If you have trouble commenting here, ping me by email, twitter, or Facebook and I'll make sure you're entered. 

Lonely Crone Week Two

Welcome to week two, awesome people. It starts on my birthday, so I'm thrilled to start with one of my recently discovered favorites. The Exile and the Sorcerer by Jane Fletcher.

The quest for the stolen chalice is a sham - her family's excuse to get rid of Tevi. Exiled in a dangerous and confusing world filled with monsters, bandits, and sorcerers, Tevi battles demons within and without as she searches for her place in the strange new world. Jemeryl has her future planned out - a future that will involve minimal contact with ordinary folk who do not understand sorcerers. Her ambition is to lead a solitary life within the Coven and to devote herself to the study of magic. It is all very straightforward - until she meets Tevi. Two unlikely allies join forces to defeat an insidious evil and on the journey find one another.

Next up is a local friend, his first book, with the second coming out very soon! Denver Demon by Donovan Edwards. I have a SIGNED copy that came with an awesome hug.

David Arbor a gay man living in rual Wyoming is drawn back to the life he had left behind when a serial killer murdering gay men in the Denver area has claimed the lives of several of his close friends. Having some schooling in criminology and psychology David decides he must head to Denver to help find this crazed killer before anymore of his friends turn up dead. It isn't long before David's need for love, answers, and sense of purpose leads him into a dark world of sex, lies, death, and the supernatural.

Finally is the AWESOME first book by a woman who welcomed me to the internet with an eight armed hug! Hard Luck by M. A. Ray.

Dingus Xavier has the worst luck ever. As if just being named "Dingus" weren't enough, he's the red-headed son of an elven mother and a human father. He might also be a berserker -- and those are just the things he knows about. Sir Vandis Vail has always been too busy serving his goddess to consider training a Squire, but when he comes across a lynch mob attacking a young man, he can't let it stand. In obedience to his divine Lady, he takes the boy into the Order of the Knights of the Air as a Squire. Dingus Xavier, though, is far more than he bargained for: a gifted ranger, but deeply damaged by a life of abuse. Vandis doesn't know how to begin to help Dingus face his pain, and he can't handle his own paternal instincts, either. When a rival religious order targets the Knights for extinction, it could be the straw that breaks Vandis's back.

As with last week, comment, email, or tweet for any entry. I'll live-tweet the drawing on Friday at noon. Good luck!

Week One Giveaway Winners

Okay, first up is the Cats & Conjure set by Asha King. It goes to Jenna Breen!

Next up we have Meeting His Match, by @katee_robert, which goes to Ashley Mulvaney!

And finally, A Little Weird, by JB McDonald goes to @edana_ni_emer!

That's it for week one! Stay tuned for the AWESOME books next week. Featuring Donovan Edwards, Jane Fletcher, and MA Ray!

Lonely Crone - Week 1

Welcome to the first giveaway!

I have three books up for grabs this week.

First is the Cats & Conjure collection by Asha King. Read the stories of conjurer Adelaide and tiger shifter Erik in a (so far) two book series.

Next up is Katee Robert with Meeting His Match: When New York matchmaker Addison St. Claire is tasked with matching her best friend's new brother-in-law, she almost refuses. But the sexy southern CEO turns out to be a challenge she can't resist, because if anyone needs to meet his soul mate, it's this man. And if matching him with someone else removes the temptation of being near him? Even better.

The last thing Caine McNeill needs is a matchmaker—especially a gorgeous redhead who spouts nonsense about soul mates, critiques what he drives and how he dresses, buys him a dog, and pesters him about a million little things he couldn't care less about. It's a crying shame he has to keep his hands off because chemistry like what's flaring between them ought to be explored. Thoroughly.

And so the battle begins. Addison is determined to stick to her plan of setting him up on dates with other women, and Caine is equally determined to ignore these women and seduce her.

Finally, in print and SIGNED, I have A Little Weird by JB McDonald. Kel has seen his share of weird throughout his life, but when London asks him to sub for her and her boyfriend, that tops the list. He isn't gay. He isn't bi. He definitely isn't submissive. And with an underlying case of post-traumatic stress disorder from years in the military, anything BDSM just sounds dangerous. But he also doesn't want to see his friends hurt, and he's positive that will happen if they get together with strangers from the Internet. London plays things too close to the vest for him to get a good enough read on her, but Kel trusts Ty, even if he doesn't think he'll enjoy turning over control. It'll be a one-off, it'll be a little weird, and they'll all go back to normal. He's not sure what to do when a little weird turns out to be something he wants.

Entries start the minute this post goes up and continue through Friday at noon Mountain time. Just comment to enter.  Happy reading!

Edit to add: Comments seem to be stubborn, but a friend and I have been able to get them to post, so don't give up and double check!

Another edit: Comments are still being stubborn, so you can just drop me an email or a tweet, and I'll add one for you.

Lonely Crone Giveaway

Welcome to October and my Big Ass Book Giveaway! Each contest will be posted on Monday at noon MT, and close Friday at noon MT. Entries are via comments on the pertinent blog post. I MUST be able to contact you by email. If you want one of the physical books, you must also be willing to give me a mailing address. Drawings will be by random number generator.

Now that the boring part is out of the way, Let me introduce the authors!

First up, we have Asha King, author of some STEAMY erotica.

With her, I'll be giving away a print book by J. B. McDonald  and an ebook by Katee Robert.

The week after will feature Donovan Edwards, Jane Fletcher,  and M. A. Ray.

For week three, I bring you Skyla Dawn Cameron in all her epic glory, giving away TWO of her books! As a bonus, a WONDERFUL ebook by Seleste deLaney.

For the GRAND finale, I have Krista D. Ball, Lilith Saintcrow and Jordan L. Hawk.

I am SO excited, y'all. These are some AMAZING books, and I'm so proud of this line-up.

October Book Giveaway

I'm turning 35 and want to forget how depressed it makes me to be 35, childless, single, and drowning in student loans.

So I'm giving away awesome books.

Stay tuned to this blog, entries start October 1st. Giveaways are the 10th, 17th, 24th, and 31st. I'm SO excited about these books, y'all, I hope you will be too.

Are We Truly Saved?

Grak ignored him, aside from his last words and their clues to Kaj'ik's condition. He sent tiny tendrils of magic into her womb, looking for the tainted magic there. What he found was vaguely infant shaped and growing at an alarming rate. It linked to Kaj's own life, siphoning it to fuel its abnormal growth. It was killing her.

The link between mother and "child" was intractable, immovable. There was no way he could see to sever it and purge it from Kaj's body. Grak stared down in the warrior, despair and hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him.

But again, Grak wasn't one to sit idle when he might be doing ANYTHING.

He drew on his own magic, reached out to Kaj'ik's shamanic magic to pull in the natural forces around them. Then he began the delicate task of replacing the corrupt magic with the less toxic shamanic and sorcerous magic.

He found himself mimicking memories from his childhood, his grandfather's delicate and intricate weaving. He used to watch the old orc for hours when he should have been sleeping. He paid for it with knuckle-swats the next morning, but never regretted it. His grandfather was truly an artist, he had decided a decade later, in the human cities with its art galleries and museums.

He put a stranglehold on the magical umbilical cord, encouraged Kaj's own body to produce a normal placenta to give the "child" flesh, siphoned the toxic energy into the corpse next to them until he could find a proper way to dispose of it. The "child" was attempting to use up its "mother" in its own growth. Grak spared a bare second to wonder just what this "child" was supposed to do.

Sweat drenched his robes and dripped down onto the warrior. He desperately wished for some food, but focused on burning through his own fat stores for energy to fuel his... would "purefication" be presumptuous? But there was not time for these thoughts, when toxic magic sought ways to escape his grasp. He bound it into the corpse, mixed green and blue magics surrounding it like a cocoon.

Kaj's breathing eased from its frantic pace. Grak's muscles protested his chronic position, but he tied off the two magics with vicious precision. The warrior was saved.

And pregnant, with... something.

Magic Storm

When magic exploded on the horizon, Grak lost all dignity and stealth. He hiked his robes up around his waist and took off. He went faster than he remembered being capable. Fear lent speed to his feet, knobby green knees showing in the cool Autumn air. The warrior's scream somehow wrung more speed from his out-of-shape body. Air sawed in and out of his lungs like sand-paper, but Kaj's scream did not stop. As he drew closer, the whirling, mixed magic brought tears to his eyes. It became harder and harder to see.

But he didn't need his eyes when he could follow that pain-filled scream so easily.

He had to pull up short when the magic storm threatened to scrape his skin from his bones.

He could only wait.

Yet waiting patiently wasn't really in Grak's nature. He summoned a tendril of his own magic and extended it toward the maelstrom, sought to understand it and why it produced that dreadful scream of pain from such a strong warrior. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled to keep his touch gentle as not to be scorched by the angry magic.

Grak attempted to "taste" the different elements. The colors were a clue for the origin of the magic, and he understood the green to be shamanic, from the living things around them. But the red and black were unfamiliar.

As his tendril sank deeper into the storm, Grak's horror grew. He tasted blood and hatred and the single-minded drive for vengeance. He sat down hard, knees no longer properly working. He couldn't even yet tell what the magic was doing.

He just knew that much hate couldn't be for anything good. He detected two human lives in the midst of the howling magic, one that was definitely his warrior, the other fading fast as he poured his own life force, hatred, and drive into Kaj'ik. Grak struggled to understand the things before his eyes.

Before he could truly grasp it, the storm blew away.

The two humans dropped to the ground. Kaj could not longer scream, her throat raw and unable to produce much sound. She struggled to her side to stare at the other human, an old man. She gasped for air, struggled to speak. "What- why?"

The old man cackled in what sounded disturbingly like glee. "You escaped the destruction of our people, traitor. You escaped it and did not enact vengeance. Maybe if you had, we wouldn't be here today. Maybe I wouldn't be bent like an old man, perhaps I might have been able to father a real child. But we'll never know, will we, coward? Instead of the mother of your people, you will be the mother of revenge." His crackling voice faded with his strength.

Kaj screamed again, the tortured sound that left her ruined throat would haunt Grak for all his years. He dove to her side, magic encompassing his hands as he tried to find the source of her pain. His eyes widened in horror as her armor creaked, giving way before a slowly swelling abdomen.

The old man cackled again, but the sound died away as he took his last breaths.

Vengeance

Her hand twitched toward her weapons, but fell again to her sides. What was the point? He wasn't wrong. It was on top of her mind to just keep going, let her master and the other villagers think she'd perished on her quest.

But you can't outrun fate, no matter how hard you might try.

"Cowardly Kaj, truth hurts, doesn't it?" He taunted. "You escaped punishment then, but don't worry your pretty head. I've come to fix that. I've been waiting for you." A tiny skull dropped from his hand, a dead infant. It took several horrified moments for her to notice the rusty red hair wrapped around the eye sockets. HER hair.

Her gaze shot back to Jola, but he was right there, next to her, clawed hands around her arm. Green, black and red magic surrounded them in a storm of wind and pain. She may have screamed, she couldn't hear herself above the yowl of the storm. Then her world narrowed to the pain coursing through her blood.

Survivors

"Kaj’ik Talani?"

She gasped, jumped to her feet, knees still unsteady. Her eyes widened at the person behind her. He was bent nearly in half from age and other things that had wrecked his body, but his face was unmistakeable beneath the wrinkles.

"Jola?" she whispered. "You're alive? How? Did anyone-" she strangled the words before she could complete them. There had been SO MANY bodies. Surely his survival was more miraculous than her own. "You're alive," she said more firmly. "I... I am glad to see you." Though his presence didn't alter her decision much. Hopefully he had found some sort of new life after the loss of their people.

"Survived?" His voice dripped with awful bitterness. "Survived," his softer words sent a chill down Kaj's spine. "I suppose you could call it survival," he said.

Kaj took half a step back without thought. "What-" she paused, licked her lips before she continued. "What happened, Jola? I came back and everyone was dead."

A terrible smile pulled his lips into a grotesque mask. "Oh, that's right. You were on you VISION QUEST." Spittle dotted his lips, his eyes grew wide with contempt. "Poor little Kaj, completely missed all the FUN." He rested his chin on his walking stick, and stared at her.

Kaj wasn't sure, but she might have been staring down straight crazy. "Jola, what HAPPENED?" her voice was no more than a whisper. "The (orc village, wtf did I name them?) was here when I returned. They.. they didn't let me see. Just said that everyone was dead."

Any doubt she had about the remnants of Jola's sanity evaporated at mention of the orcs. "The ORCS told you? You didn't see for yourself? You didn't see what you'd abandoned your people to?" At her startled gasp, that skeletal smile returned. "Oh yes, you think I didn't know you planned on leaving us? Running away like the little coward you are?"

Old Bones

Kaj knew the way by heart, her body moved the familiar path without much conscious thought. Tears threatened again, but a quick pinch to her thigh held them back. She would NOT cry again, there wasn't time, and she hadn't the patience for any mewling, even from herself. She was there before she knew it.

The skeleton of her village made her cry out in pain. It was worse than the last time she'd been here. Though how it could be worse without bodies littering the ground, she couldn't say. A scream built in her chest. Why it lodged there, she couldn't say. It wasn't like she hadn't always known how unfair life was. What did it matter?

She bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

She picked her way through rotting wood supports and hide that had faded to paper thinness. It was a ghost of its former self, much like the sole survivor. She walked down the central lane to the her master's yurt. The colors had faded to a shocking degree. Two years was longer than one would think, it seemed.

She held out a cautious hand to the bright fabric door. To her horror, it disintegrated beneath her fingers. The scream that lodged in her chest choked out as a sob. Maybe she had more tears after all.

Kaj dropped to her knees, unable to stand the internal pain any more.

Stealth

Her attempts at stealth were wasted on a sorcerer with insomnia and excellent night vision.

Grak followed at a very cautious pace. He didn't want to interfere, he told himself, just observe this crazy warrior. He he tried to imagine what she might be doing, sneaking out of the village like a thief in the night.

But thoughts quickly lost priority as he fell further behind her trail. The woman must have the eyes of a cat, he thought as he stepped in something slimy. He slowed, attempting to keep her trail without alerting her any more than he might have already. He was already afraid he'd left a trail of his own wider than a tree trunk.

The forest grew thicker, the air grew thinner, harsh pine green overtook the nearly bare trees with leaves just fallen. Grak grabbed a handful of needles to chew, as he hadn't brought any food in his haste.

Escape from What

She expected some sort of fulfilment.

Instead she felt completely empty.

Why didn't that hollow part of her, the aching emptiness that had kept her awake at nights for so many years, why didn't it feel any smaller? Instead it was a new pain. Just as raw.

Maybe she would never heal. Maybe she should head up into the mountains and lay down with the rest of her people. Their time was passed, it was time for a new people to rise up. She was just one broken woman who had abandoned her people. There was no revival, no resurrection.

Soft snoring on either side of her, fabric partitions keeping her separate from her hosts. The orcs here, they were far more civilized than her own people, for all they shared many traditions and habits. They had language and literature. Her own people hadn't even had a written language, just the traditional stories.

Oral tradition, almost all of it was gone now. Because she had been a selfish child.

But if she'd been less selfish, she'd be dead too.

So yes, maybe it was more than time for her people to leave this living world.

Kaj dressed in silence, only the slide of fabric, leather, and fur against skin making whispers of noise. She was at least trained well as a hunter, nobody should notice her leave. She'd even learned how to quietly operate the monstrous wooden doors the orcs preferred to proper yurts, with their fabric door flaps.

She was at the walls before very long at all. Getting over the wall without notice was child's play. It actually made her quietly worried for the village. But it wasn't her concern, she had a goal and would accomplish it as the last thing she did. Perhaps then the pain would stop choking her and she could finally just sleep.

Closure?

It was at dinner that Grak finally got some insight into his warrior.  Sooj, the village Matriarch of Justice, delivered the news.

“The last of Vok’s band has been brought to justice,” she said in a deceptively melodic voice. “With her death, the Sundance are avenged.”

Grak had never seen a woman close off so quickly and completely. Her eyes rested on her plate, unseeing, and did not move. “You are certain?” she asked in a choked voice.

Rather than taking insult at the doubt, Sooj nodded firmly. “We questioned her to be sure.”

Kaj stared at her half-eaten food, her knife and spoon in her hands. Grak waited for some reaction, joy, anger, relief, anything. Instead she continued to stare.

He looked down at his own nearly-empty plate. He almost held his breath as he waited for her to move again. Finally, she scooped up a spoon full of mashed roots.

“Well, I suppose that’s it then.” Her voice shook, which she attempted to cover up by shoving the spoon into her mouth.

Sooj kept her eyes away from the human warrior. “We gave them last rights, scattered their ashes at the Burning Meadow,” she said, between casual bites. “You can go, let them know.”

Kaj nodded before the Matriarch finished. “That would be good, I think. Tomorrow, I’ll head out at first light, if someone from the night watch would be kind enough to wake me.”

A murmur of assent rumbled through the hall. Grak polished off his food, watching the orcs watch the human. There was an odd, protective air about them. It felt distinctly odd, and completely different from his own xenophobic village. He wondered if other humans received similar treatment from the Krak’esh.

The orc to his left elbowed him sharply. "Why are you dressed like a pinkie magicker?"

Grak sighed. That answered that question. "My attempts at shamanic magic were less than adequate," he said simply. "So I followed my talents."

The orc's brows lowered in confusion. "And they just let you?"

That prompted half a smile. "Human academics are in a world of their own. They view every one with suspicion until you prove you're not going to accidentally smash all their experiments."

His expression cleared up. "Then they taught you everything?"

Grak shook his head ruefully. "No, then they let you slave for them as an assistant until they think you've learned something. I believe they call it 'apprenticeship.'"

The other orc  barked with laughter. "Nice to see some pinkies have their heads on straight. I'm Grus, I teach the young warriors the basics. Kids are good for the most part, but sometimes they need a kick in the ass to remember their place."

Comfortable Silence

She knew it was Grak next to her without opening her eyes. She’d like to attribute the knowledge to the superior skills of a warrior, but they’d rusted in the whiskey barrel of her life long ago.

No, it was Grak himself. His presence was unmistakable. It was like his magic bumped against her in a gentle announcement. “Hello, I am Grak, I am here,” it said silently.

She told herself it was irritating. She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t move. Instead she sat up, piled her nearly-dry hair on top of her head and secured it with a heart wood hair comb. Something firmed up inside her, and she finally turned her gaze to Grak. “Is it much like your village?” she asked.

He tilted his head toward her, as if her words might escape if he didn’t listen closely enough. “Similar enough. I’m sure some traditions and habits are different, it’s a much different climate here, after all.” He sighed heavily, settling deeper into the water. “I do miss my clan. I haven’t seen my mother or brothers in several years.”

Pain clenched in Kajivar’s chest, but she held back the tears. The thousands that came before had done nothing. New tears would also be wasted. “You should visit them,” she said tightly. “I’m sure they miss you as well.”

His eyes narrowed on her face, and she attempted to smooth away any expression. “It is my intention to return to the South with the thaw,” he said simply. “I wanted …” He looked away from her. “I will see them in the Spring,” he said instead.

The corners of her lips turned up in a sad smile. “I’m glad,” she said. Nobody should waste an opportunity to be with their family.

They spent the rest of their bath in comfortable silence.

Friends?

Grak spotted pale skin amongst the various shades of green and made his way to Kajivar’s side. Her hair splayed on the rock behind her in a drying fall of rust red that darkened to brown closer to her head. At some point, she had clearly lightened her hair, and he wished he could remember the significance of that. He was sure it was part of the puzzle that was Kajivar.

He caught himself before he could fall further into the old orc’s thinking. If the warrior was a puzzle, he most firmly did not want to solve it. That way likely lay complete madness, if her behavior up to that point were any indicator.

Yet he submerged himself in the pool beside her, and said nothing.

Is there a place?

Grak stared after the warrior as the women ushered her off. Clearly, they knew her well. Perhaps this was best.

“You wear the robes of sorcery, tov’rosh,” an elderly orc man observed in a tired, gravelly voice, pulling Grak’s attention back to his own circumstances.

It only then occurred to him that this village might not be as …. tolerant, of his eccentricities as his own. He respectfully put his fists together in front of his chest and bowed his head. “Yes, Elder. I have discovered a talent for the human magic.” And completely failed as a shaman, he did not add. Maybe it wasn’t necessary.

The old orc just nodded thoughtfully. “Have you found fulfilment in your studies?” he asked, curiosity plain in his words.

The question gave him pause. It wasn’t something he thought about. He had a talent for magic, so he attempted to be a shaman. Shamanic spells eluded him, so he studied human sorcery. He was good at it. It never occurred to him to wonder if he enjoyed it. He felt the muscles around his eyes tense as he attempted to answer. “I do not dislike it,” he said slowly. “And I do have a talent for it.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “If I had one wish, it would be to have a greater capacity to help my people,” he confessed.

The old orc’s eyes crinkled at the corners in well-worn lines. “Perhaps you just haven’t yet had the opportunity, youngster,” he said with great amusement. “I am Kagor, I teach the youngest of our shamans. I am glad you found an outlet for your unusual talents.” He held out a hand, inviting Grak to join him.

Grak ducked his head modestly and followed Kagor. “It was a great disappointment to my family when I tested so highly in magical talents, yet failed to master the most basic of shamanic spells,” he admitted quietly.

Kagor shook his head vigorously. “People are not puzzle pieces, they are puzzles unto themselves. And some are more complicated than others. It is the duty of the individual to solve their own puzzle, no matter where that solution may fall. Trying to solve another’s puzzle only leads to disappointment to all involved.”

Grak raised an eyebrow. “Interesting wisdom, Elder,” he said uncertainly.

The older orc laughed out loud. “Don’t mind my ramblings, youngster, I’m just an old teacher who is entirely too fond of puzzles. Building and solving them.” He led Grak to a low-roofed building. “But I should cease my ramble and let you wash the road dust away.” He opened the door to the warm steam room. “We have built a second entrance to the Sona. Sometimes it’s helpful, like when the women take over.”

Grak performed his ablutions in a perfunctory manner, taking far less time than he would in his home village. It was difficult not to linger, it had been so long since he’d had a civilized bath, he wanted to treasure every moment. But he was also curious about the warrior. If he was honest, he felt a little worried as well.

She seemed rather unwell during their journey, and he was certain it wasn’t the lack of alcohol.

Once clean, he walked out to the hot spring enclosure. Steam filled his nose, mouth, and lungs in a comforting cloud. He looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. Winter was almost on them. Soon the snow would start to fall.

Would they still be here when the trails became impassable?

When did he start thinking in terms of “they” and “us?”

Welcome

She sighed heavily as she watched his retreating back. He hadn’t been old enough to braid his hair last time she’d seen him. She started forward with a thought to signal her horse and Grak to follow.

Not that the greedy beggar equine needed it, he knew there was food and a warm stable waiting. Grak, on the other hand...

She didn’t know what to make of the strangely dressed orc. Though, not so strange for him to dress as a sorcerer. She’d witnessed his magics and power. He was completely strange to her. Her people were very close to the Kra’kish, sharing many rituals and beliefs. Unsurprising, given that the peoples had grown up together in the far, icy North.

From the little she’d paid attention to, Grak was strange even among his own people. She didn’t quite know what to make of him.

Then there was no more time to ponder, because the Kra’kesh remembered her, and welcomed her as if to home. Tears threatened to choke her. Tora, the chief medicine woman, put an arm around her shoulder, acting as a breakwater between the clamoring people and Kajivar.

“Hold yourselves back, you barbarians!” she shouted. “Can’t you see she needs some quality Sona time? Back! Back all of you men!” The women of the orcish village closed quiet ranks around her as she was hustled into the steam-house.

She tried to help as the stripped the furs away from her body, but only managed to get tangled. The girl laughed as she carefully worked Kajivar’s hand loose. Hands rubbed a cleansing mixture of plant oil and ashes into her skin and hair before pushing her into the next, hotter chamber. Multiple strathes scraped the cleansing mix from her skin. She sat back in the konsa chair as nearly scalding water was poured over her hair to release the mix from the strands.

Back on her feet, she braced herself. The final urn of chilled water sluiced over her skin. Goosebumps popped out from head to toe, but she felt truly clean for the first time in a long while. It was a far more comfortable Kajivar who walked out to the hot springs.

Submerged to her neck in mineral-smelling waters, tension started to ooze from her muscles. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend to forget.

Greetings

They happened upon an outrider before they got to the orc village proper. He greeted them with a large dose of caution.

“Hello, travelers, are you lost?” he asked.

Kajivar pushed clumped locks of dirty hair out of her eyes. “Badash? ‘Zat really you? Didn’t think you were out for solo patrols yet.”

For several long seconds, the young male looked astonished, then suspicious, then completely shocked. “Kajivar?” Her name was a breath on his lips, barely heard. “You’re alive? I mean, we never found your body, but you’re alive?”

She turned her face away in shame. Her eyes fell on Grak’s boots, peeking out the edge of his robes. He didn’t know. She swallowed with some difficulty and turned back to Badash. “It’s a long story. I was away, when I returned and saw...” she trailed off with a small shrug. “Well, I fell into a whiskey barrel for a while.”

“Two years, Kajivar.” The young warrior turned his horse away from them. “Well, follow me. The Sundance are still welcome among the Kra’kish.”

~*~

ETA: So, nearly two years after I stopped posting, I've started again. I've scheduled posts out every other day until July 24th.

New Year Charity Raffle

Happy New Year!

It's a lovely new year, beloved internet, and I mean to start it off on a positive note. Therefore I am hosting a charity raffle for the month of January. Every whole dollar you donate to one of the organizations listed below will earn you one virtual raffle ticket. The prize is a gift basket which consists of four hand-knit wash cloths, and three items of your choice from Chagrin ValleySoaps.

Please, donate directly to the organizations and email the receipts to me for your entries. perihawk at gmail dot com.  The receipts will only be kept for the duration of the fund-raiser and destroyed immediately after the winner is confirmed.

As a bonus, if you're into the humiliation of your friends, if we reach a combined total of $250, I will make a video of myself singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls" from The Little Mermaid.

Photo used with permission of Chagrin Valley Soaps.

Donation emails will be accepted January 1st through 31st. The winner will be drawn on February 2nd.

Thank you for helping me start this new year off right!

MSF - Doctors Without Borders is a French secular humanitarian-aid non-governmental organization, Nobel Peace Prize laureate, best known for its projects in war-torn regions and developing countries facing endemic diseases. Its headquarters are in Geneva, Switzerland.

Villalobos Rescue Center is a Pit Bulls Dog rescue, rehabilitation and placement facility for abused and abandoned Pit Bulls.

The mission of Books With No Bounds is to provide Aboriginal children and teens living in remote communities, with books donated by publishers, authors, schools, individuals and organizations. Books With No Bounds organizes, catalogues, packs, and sends appropriate books to the Nishnawbe Aski Nations so that Aboriginal children and teens are given critical building blocks for literacy success.

Heifer International is a global nonprofit with the goal of ending poverty and hunger in a sustainable fashion. Established in 1944, Heifer International gives out gifts of livestock, seeds and trees and extensive training to those in need.

Cat Care was founded by Suzanne Hart and Eileen McIntosh in order to address the over population of cats and to assist individuals in their surrounding communities including Peterborough, Northumberland and Hastings Counties by arranging for cats to be spayed/neutered at low cost spay/neuter facilities in Ontario.