Here is the beginning of Chapter One of the third book of Ferrian's Winter. It contains no spoilers as it deals with a couple of brand new characters. (The rest of the chapter contains things you need to have read about in the previous books, hence I can only post this short excerpt). Enjoy! :)
* * * Lightning tore the air asunder; bright, angry veins striking at the mountain pass as though seeking to split the ancient grey gorge deeper. Rain pummelled the rocks and turned the sky into a twilight haze. All around, high, snow-capped peaks soared; stolid, oblivious and cold. A young woman struggled against the storm, a slim figure bent with exhaustion, hugging herself, her booted feet dragging on the trail. The racing mud caught her feet and she slipped, falling hard on her shoulder. Close beside her, a stream roared, leaping over rocks like a white beast. Rain poured down her face so that she could barely see. She could no longer tell if tears were mingled with it. The fall had caused her no pain, but knocked what little breath she had left from her lungs. She was numb all over; the rain had a sleety edge to it that coated the ground with a perilous layer of liquid ice. The cold had seeped all the way through her thin silken clothing, through her skin, through her bones, even through her warmest cloak. There was no part of her that it had not claimed as its own. It had seized her thoughts; held her limbs hostage. She wasn’t sure how she had even made it this far. She turned her head heavily to look at her right hand, lying on the streaming path as though it belonged to someone else, clenched in a fist so tightly she could not open it; her knuckles stood out bone-white against her light brown skin. But the small object they held was still there. A weak blue light glowed between her fingers, trailing off into invisible wisps. It seemed fragile in the fury of the storm, but it was the strongest it had been since she had started her journey. And though the rest of her hand was lifeless, where the stone pressed against her palm she felt a soft, cool caress, as though she clutched a breath of summer breeze. There was a clattering sound from somewhere ahead and a pair of hoofed feet appeared before her. Then she was being pulled gently but firmly to her feet. She wasn’t sure that they would support her, but her companion held her steady. She looked up into his face. His long red hair streamed with rain, the ebony beads entwined in it shiny. Water rippled over his golden-brown skin like a smooth stone in a river. His expression was steadfast, his dark eyes calm. He looked down at her clenched hand, reached out and carefully took it in his own. A shiver passed through him as the blue light brushed his skin, and his jaw tightened. Then he released her hand, turned back to her and nodded. They continued onwards.
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All of my books can be purchased in digital form from most online ebook retailers, including
Amazon and Smashwords. Paperback versions of my books are available from Amazon's print on demand service. AuthorMegan Leigh is a Tasmanian expat writer and artist living in Amsterdam. She paints nature and animals and writes weird and wonderful stories of fantasy and adventure. Subscribe for updates!
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