"Roan's First Days"

Part 3

 

The weasel lunged, mouth open and teeth bared. Roan struck hard with his twig staff, landing a blow to the beast's face and knocking it off balance. The predator shook its head and backed away, startled that its prey fought back.

 

The young chipmunk worked his way to the center of the clearing, careful to keep his staff aimed at the wicked creature should it lunge again. The weasel snarled and edged forward, giving Roan a wide berth at first. It sniffed the air, eyeing the large chipmunk as it began to circle.

 

Roan gave a sharp warning bark, which made the weasel pause, and the beast sniffed the air once more before making its move. Suddenly, the circular path it had been tracing tightened, and Roan found himself being stalked at much closer quarters than he liked.

 

The creature gnashed its teeth, and Roan whacked its nose with the tip of the staff. The lanky beast shook its head and staggered backwards. Roan lunged and struck again. The weasel growled and snapped at Roan's staff, unable to wrench it away from him. Roan took a half-step forward, and just as the beast opened its maw to snap again, the chipmunk gathered all of his strength and plunged the tip of the twig staff deep into the roof of its mouth.

 

The weasel's eyes grew wide, and the black pupils dilated as the life force drained from them. Roan buried the butt of the staff in the ground, and the weight of the weasel's body drove the staff into the soil just enough that it remained propped up, the weasel hanging in midair like a macabre scarecrow. 

 

Roan stared at the beast's face. In one quick move, he inhaled deeply, then hawked a wad of spit into the weasel's unblinking eyes. The phlegm-laced saliva dripped down the lifeless orbs and mingled with its short fur.

 

Roan wiped his mouth with his paw and turned away.

 

Victory was his.

 

 

 

 

 



"Roan's First Days"

Part 2

 

The slender weasel dropped its prize into the blanket of autumn leaves and rose up on its hindpaws.  Its eyes locked on Roan, the twitching nose seeking out the chipmunk's scent among the layers of damp and mildewy smells permeating the little persimmon grove. Satisfied that Roan would be a much larger, tastier catch, the weasel dropped onto all fours and lumbered fearlessly toward his striped prey.

 

The young chipmunk stood his ground, the sturdy twig he held serving as the only barrier standing between him and certain death. As the weasel approached, Roan's mind briefly flicked to his natural instinct to flee, but his own steady, indomitable spirit quashed that idea before it could take root. He stood strong--fierce and tall--never once allowing his eyes to drift from his enemy's sinewy form.

 

As the weasel drew closer to Roan, it slowed his pace and cocked its head, weaving back and forth in hopes of finding an opening to attack. Roan carefully turned his body as the weasel edged closer, always keeping his makeshift staff between him and the cunning predator.

 

The sly creature growled its annoyance, shifting position constantly as it searched for the opportunity to strike.

 

"Enough of this," Roan muttered under his breath.

 

The young chipmunk bared his teeth and charged forward. Caught off-guard, the weasel reared up in the air and snarled savagely, its dark eyes glistening with a killer's bloodthirsty hunger. Roan raised his weapon to strike.

 

Someone was about to die.

 

 



"Roan's First Days"

Part 1

 

The young chipmunk turned to look upon his mother for the last time.  She stood tall and brave at the base of the oak tree where they had made their home, her sharp eyes locked solely upon him.  Roan stared back her, taking in his mother's countenance.  Only her chin quivered.  He was the last of her little ones to leave.

 

Roan at last looked away and hurried up the path that led to a little grove of persimmon trees.  The young chipmunk had grown fat over the summer, nearly twice the size of some of his siblings.  His white stripes flashed along the length of his muscular back as he ran, hinting at the massive specimen he would one day become.

 

He skidded to a halt at the edge of the grove.  Squishy, orange, sickly-sweet persimmon fruits lay scattered here and there among the autumn leaves.  Roan cautiously stepped into the small, natural clearing in the center of the grove and sniffed the air.  There was a subtle scent beneath the smell of damp leaves and rotting fruit, something musky and unknown to him.

 

His eyes darted to a sturdy twig.  The chipmunk pricked his ears and listened for danger, but the little grove was quiet.  He inched forward cautiously and bent low to retrieve the twig, grasping it tightly with both paws.

 

The strange odor grew stronger as it filtered into the grove from the north.  Roan squinted, bracing himself for whatever might come his way.  At the far end of the clearing, a small pattering ruffled the leaves, paused, then stirred them again.  The chipmunk focused all of his senses on the base of a large persimmon tree.  Within moments, a lithe, serpentine creature slithered into view.

 

Roan's heart pounded. 

 

It was a weasel.  And it carried the corpse of a gray mouse in its jaws.

 



Finding My Place in this World

When I threatened to vomit on my future publisher and future editor prior to my novel's pitch, I had no idea that they would actually want to see my work.  As it turned out, they did, and I am thrilled to announce that Oghma Creative Media will breathe life into my Evershade series in July 2016.

In book one, Evershade:  Season of Crows, Ash struggles to find his place in this world.  Orphaned at a young age, his fellow walnut keepers, the inhabitants of Evershade, raised him.  For a mouse, he was most fortunate to have survived the opossum attack, but now that he has his own burrow, what destiny awaits him?  When the land is stricken with the worst drought in memory, and the stream dries up, Ash and all of Evershade must struggle to survive the suffocating heat, stale water from the cisterns, and bitter food rations.  And when two banished mousemaids seek out the Crow Kingdom to exact their revenge on Evershade's king, the walnut keepers must make a terrible choice--stay and fight for their beloved home, or flee for their very lives.

This blog will consist of the backstory of some of these characters.  For example, why is Evershade's watcher, a massive chipmunk named Roan, the only one with true battle experience?  What were the tales of the great snail lords in the Crystal Caverns that Queen Sapphire told to Prince Sky when he was just a chick?  And exactly how did the white warrior squirrels of the Order of Rozka come to be?

I look forward to you joining me on this journey.  I might even slip in a little sidestory now and then just for the fun of it!