No matter where you are, if it is summer or winter, I hope you have a really nice holiday filled with good food, laughter and good memories.

I just finished wrapping the few gifts I have this year, so I am going to write until we are off to my brother’s in 3 hours or so.

Since it is Jul, I thought I would give you a sneak peek at the current opening for the Bonedragon’s curse.  (Which will probably be cut, because I want to start the book a smidge later.)

The sound of thumping footsteps approaching the burrow was almost masked by the rain pattering against the roof. Love inched over to the rowan staff, laying on a pair of pegs, just above the pile of grass and leaves were he slept. Part of him was whispering that he was overly cautious, that no one would hurt him.
He ignored it. Things were tense in the forest, tense enough that everyone was cautious.
”Love!” A familiar voice roared.
Love relaxed.
Ketor. What did the troll want now? The faun sighed. The only way to find out was to speak to his fried.
Love grumbled, but stood. He brushed off the leaves from his fur covered legs and poked his head out.
”What?”
”The warden want to see us.”
”Now?” Loke sputtered.
”Yes.”
”Why?”
”Dunno. Probably something about the feud between the dryads and the wolves.”
Loke grimaced. If the warden was summoning the rangers, things were getting to a head. He hoped it wouldn’t require Ketor bashing heads in with his stone club. Or him wacking dwellers with his staff.
”Let me get my cloak,” he muttered.
Ketor grunted.
Love grabbed the cloak his mother had woven from shed unicorn fur before he left her burrrow. He felt pang of nostalgia. He had a good life, but there were times when he wished fauns wasn’t so territorial. Love sighed. Maybe he could visit next summer.
He wrapped the cloak around him, and left.

This is from the WIP and it is very rough. Also due to be changed or cut in the revisions, cause this draft is really, really messy. But I hope you like it!

The trees rustles above them, as the wolf lead them deeper into the forest.  It felt like time had stopped for a moment, but Love knew it hadn’t. It was just his imagination.

He wasn’t certain how far they had walked when a tall woman,  dressed in a tunic made of leaves and grass, the green and yellow a startling contrast against her dark brown skin and hair the color of red autum leaves stepped out in to the path, blocking their way.

The wolf stopped, and growled. “ What do you want, Aldis?”

Aldis sniffed. “I just wanted to warn you that times is running out.”

The wolf growled. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”’

Aldis gave him an angry look, and the air crackled. The branches began to move towards them, as if they were as flexible as human limbs.  Love gulped.  The dryad was riding the killing edge, for some reason. Love had a hunch that the missing wolf pup was involved.