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OK, I’m here. Things are still as unsettled as before. It’s neither good news or bad, it just is. Two notes about that – 1.) Now I remember why I don’t eat breakfast. It messes my system up for days. 2.) I-25 south of Albuquerque? You go up the hill, you go down the hill. You go up the hill, you go down the hill. Repeat about 90 times until you get to Las Cruces. Also, it’s 100 degrees out.
This is a new snippet, something I’m playing with right now. When the next (yes, next) Wildblood book comes out, I want it to be a standalone. It will take a bit more planning on my part, but I don’t mind.
Here, Shannon is waking from a self-induced coma. I won’t spoil the trilogy, but this book will examine relationships hinted at and skimmed over previously, personal ones and public things. Please forgive my interesting punctuation.
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Being exhausted and weak, she couldn’t hold on to the memory. As it faded, she remembered the gunfire, and felt wounds; some hers, some not, some old, some fresh; it was a relief, to wake from it.
Faint light from an oil lamp illuminated part of the room and a lone figure sat waiting, immersed in the pages of an old book. “Awake now?” he inquired quietly. Damon Green, colleague, friend, and more, he was one of the few people she trusted.
“Yeah, now,” Shan agreed, not recognizing the room, “What day is it?”
She considered it, knowing Saturday afternoon was the last clear memory she had, “Ranchlands?”
“You don’t think I’d let them keep you in The Vista unless it was an absolute emergency, do you?” he asked, setting the book aside. The Ranchlands was his home, a centuries-old sovereign Siksika Nation, the Blackfoot nation that had existed long before, and now after, what had been the United States.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Wildblood Trilogy is complete, and you can find it by clicking on the graphic, or at other retailers by following the links on my website.