As some of you know, I've been dying to get back to my Native American spirit trilogies. And finally, I am!
The last couple of days, I've been reading the first book, which is done and partials have been sent to a couple editors and a couple of agents. The wonderful part is after "fixing" the two books published at The Wild Rose Press it is refreshing to find little that needs revised on this book. The lyrical quality I tried to instill in these books still feels right to me and I love reading it - again.
Below is an excerpt where the heorine, Wren, has a second meeting with the spirit of the mountain, a wolf.
Stepping into a clearing, she stopped.
Sunning himself in the middle of the small meadow was the white wolf. His thick, shiny coat sparkled in the early morning sunlight. From where she stood, Wren could see his eyes were closed. Did she dare approach? If she startled him, he might not be as friendly as the day before.
Hoping he would not run, she backed into the trees and sang a song about the creatures of the mountain. She raised her voice, walking slowly into the clearing. Her heart beat rapidly. Would he remain or flee? She was anxious he not be angry with her and run away.
When she first stepped into the meadow and spied the animal, elation and hope overcame her. Wren knew not why, but this creature filled her with pleasure and acceptance for what was to come.
The wolf did not run. He raised his head, watching her approach with unblinking eyes.
"White Wolf, what a surprise to see you," she said, continuing to walk toward him. He made no attempt to run. His grey eyes watched her. They almost seemed to say, 'you may come closer', giving her the courage to walk right up to his reclining white body.
"May I sit next to you?" she asked, indicating a spot beside the wolf.
His muzzle dipped slightly as though telling her yes. Wren sat next to the animal, her legs curled underneath her.
"You are beautiful. May I stroke your fur?" Again his eyes seemed to answer. She put a hand on his back. The fur was warm and thick. The beating of her heart lessened as she sat next to the animal running her hand over and through the soft pelt.
The contentment that surrounded her the day before when she tended his wounds wrapped around her like the hot steam in the sweat lodge.
"I believe we have met before." The wolf seemed to lean closer as though to listen. "In my ninth summer, I set out on a vision quest. In my dream you came to me." The wolf looked her in the eyes. "I am almost certain you were the one. The eyes, are different not as blue, but I will never forget." The wolf tilted his head seeming to acknowledge her observation.
Her daring soared. She stroked the shorter, sleeker hair on his wide, strong head. His ears lay back as her hand moved downward.
"In my dreams you told me I would be the one to save my people." She looked away; no longer able to talk for fear her own selfishness would upset the one who bestowed her prophecy. Her hands picked at the rough cloth of her dress. Had the wolf known then her weyekin would make her leave everything she loved? He nudged her hand with his warm, wet nose.
Wren looked at him. The grey eyes searched hers. He seemed to see things in her even she did not know.
"You bestowed upon me a great weyekin. A gift all the elders say is more special than any other given to a maiden." She gulped not sure whether she was pleased or upset to have been given such an honor and hardship.
"Ever since the day on the mountain when you told me of my gift, I have felt unworthy of such greatness." She ducked her head in shame.