HOME | DD

Description
The following is a scene from my novel, "Song of the Summer King." Kindle version is available on amazon.com: [link] Or you can order a signed first edition from my website! [link]
~~~

“Only a fool would stand ground against old Lapu,” a female voice said. Shard whirled, hissing, and saw no one. “I’m glad to see you aren’t a fool, Rashard son-of-the-Nightwing.”

“Show yourself!” He turned in a circle, wings half open, though he didn’t dare try to fly in the woods again. He was alone. All the other gryfons pursued the boar to the meadow. A scent washed him, musky, woodsy. Wolf. When he stood still at last and flicked only his ears he heard her, turned, and saw her.

In the woods she blended as well as a shaft of sunlight, or a shadow, or a leaf. The wolves of the Star Isle were nearly as large as gryfons – and unlike the lesser beasts that ranged the little forests of the lesser islands, they also boasted bold coloring, had names, and spoke. Her coat was a color like the red heather of summer, but those spots in the sunlight shifted color like gryfon feathers, iridescent gray and gold. She stood under the tallest of the rowan trees.

“Who are you, speak!”

She stepped forward, ears up, alert but not threatening, and she had bright amber eyes. Her hackles remained smooth, her stance passive. “I am Catori. Why do you hunt the great boar?”

“For meat,” he lied, then, thinking of Kjorn, angled his head proudly. “For the great kill, to prove our worth. For the glory of the king.” Even as he spoke he wondered why he was explaining himself to her instead of attacking, or leaving to join his fellows.

“Which king?” She stood root as a pine tree, inscrutable as the whispering birch. Shard hesitated, then lashed his tail. The wind shifted through the naked branches and pine bows and seemed to echo her in tiny voices, "Which king? Which king?"

He snapped his gaze up, but saw only branches rustling in the whispering breeze, and birds. Then he looked back to the she-wolf, narrowing his eyes.

“The only king. Sverin son-of-Per, king of the Silver Isles.”

Her nose wrinkled and she showed the sharp points of her teeth. “King of the Sun Isle, you mean. King of thieves. There is a king on the Star Isle as well, and you don’t belong here.”

Movement caught his eye and he looked up. A raven sat now in the branches above, bobbling back and forth and chuckling. Was it the same as earlier that morning? Had it tracked him, told the wolves, caused this trouble? “We belong wherever we wish. Wherever we fly. Fight me if you don’t think so.”

“I have no wish to fight you, though you trespass here, and your king has hunted my family.”

“Trespass?” Shard crouched, then forced a bold laugh, thinking of Kjorn. The Silver Isles belonged to gryfons. “As for the king, Sverin hunts wolves because you harry our hunts on Star Isle. It’s your own fault.”

“A vicious circle.” She tilted her head. “But which came first, Rashard, the mountain, or the sea?” Above, the raven guffawed and sidled on his branch, echoing her.

Shard hesitated and fluffed. Her answer made no sense -- and yet with the words came a memory, the low and thrumming voice of a male gryfon. His father’s voice?

'Which sprang first, Rashard, the mountain or the sea? Not even the eldest could tell, whether first came wave or tree.'

“Which came first?” Cried the raven, winging to another branch.

Words Shard didn’t remember learning clawed his mind and he whispered, “The silence, or the song…”

“Not even the rowan could say,” murmured Catori. “Had it a voice, and lived so long.”

~~~~

Watercolor and Pen. ^_^

...there are three wolves in this painting. Shard doesn't look right. Oh well.

Description
The following is a scene from my novel, "Song of the Summer King." Kindle version is available on amazon.com: [link] Or you can order a signed first edition from my website! [link]
~~~

“Only a fool would stand ground against old Lapu,” a female voice said. Shard whirled, hissing, and saw no one. “I’m glad to see you aren’t a fool, Rashard son-of-the-Nightwing.”

“Show yourself!” He turned in a circle, wings half open, though he didn’t dare try to fly in the woods again. He was alone. All the other gryfons pursued the boar to the meadow. A scent washed him, musky, woodsy. Wolf. When he stood still at last and flicked only his ears he heard her, turned, and saw her.

In the woods she blended as well as a shaft of sunlight, or a shadow, or a leaf. The wolves of the Star Isle were nearly as large as gryfons – and unlike the lesser beasts that ranged the little forests of the lesser islands, they also boasted bold coloring, had names, and spoke. Her coat was a color like the red heather of summer, but those spots in the sunlight shifted color like gryfon feathers, iridescent gray and gold. She stood under the tallest of the rowan trees.

“Who are you, speak!”

She stepped forward, ears up, alert but not threatening, and she had bright amber eyes. Her hackles remained smooth, her stance passive. “I am Catori. Why do you hunt the great boar?”

“For meat,” he lied, then, thinking of Kjorn, angled his head proudly. “For the great kill, to prove our worth. For the glory of the king.” Even as he spoke he wondered why he was explaining himself to her instead of attacking, or leaving to join his fellows.

“Which king?” She stood root as a pine tree, inscrutable as the whispering birch. Shard hesitated, then lashed his tail. The wind shifted through the naked branches and pine bows and seemed to echo her in tiny voices, "Which king? Which king?"

He snapped his gaze up, but saw only branches rustling in the whispering breeze, and birds. Then he looked back to the she-wolf, narrowing his eyes.

“The only king. Sverin son-of-Per, king of the Silver Isles.”

Her nose wrinkled and she showed the sharp points of her teeth. “King of the Sun Isle, you mean. King of thieves. There is a king on the Star Isle as well, and you don’t belong here.”

Movement caught his eye and he looked up. A raven sat now in the branches above, bobbling back and forth and chuckling. Was it the same as earlier that morning? Had it tracked him, told the wolves, caused this trouble? “We belong wherever we wish. Wherever we fly. Fight me if you don’t think so.”

“I have no wish to fight you, though you trespass here, and your king has hunted my family.”

“Trespass?” Shard crouched, then forced a bold laugh, thinking of Kjorn. The Silver Isles belonged to gryfons. “As for the king, Sverin hunts wolves because you harry our hunts on Star Isle. It’s your own fault.”

“A vicious circle.” She tilted her head. “But which came first, Rashard, the mountain, or the sea?” Above, the raven guffawed and sidled on his branch, echoing her.

Shard hesitated and fluffed. Her answer made no sense -- and yet with the words came a memory, the low and thrumming voice of a male gryfon. His father’s voice?

'Which sprang first, Rashard, the mountain or the sea? Not even the eldest could tell, whether first came wave or tree.'

“Which came first?” Cried the raven, winging to another branch.

Words Shard didn’t remember learning clawed his mind and he whispered, “The silence, or the song…”

“Not even the rowan could say,” murmured Catori. “Had it a voice, and lived so long.”

~~~~

Watercolor and Pen. ^_^

...there are three wolves in this painting. Shard doesn't look right. Oh well.