A Fallen HomeKin is FINISHED!
No new drawings this week because I've been focusing on my novel, which IS NOW FINISHED! *Throws confetti* Whoop! At 96,344 words, probably two years, and a lot of elbow grease, A Fallen HomeKin is done! It's been a long journey full of learning curves, but I made it, which means it's very possible I can write everything else I have planned >:D Not any time soon, though. I need time to get my words back.
In the meantime, I plan to be drawing more! So hopefully this will be the last time in a while there is an empty week. Anywho, here's an excerpt from one of the recent chapters and a link to where you can go read the entire novel:
The night hung around Fralith like a net strung between trees, ready to drop on him at any moment. He shivered, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. Something had woken him; something big enough to pull him out of the fog—which was now thin and ghostly—twirling around his ankles.
He held his breath, scanning the thick shadows clumping in the corners of his room. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. It was just him and the darkness. Quietly, he let air seep from his lungs, the space between his shoulder blades itching as if a gaze prickled his skin.
But…his back was to a wall. No one could be behind him. Still, he twisted around, fingers fisting. Darkness. Just…darkness, nothing more. What had woken him? Something had woken him; he remembered jerking awake to…to…something. Had it been a sound? A movement? Another dream?
Turning back around, he scanned the darkness again, every muscle tense and ready to spring out of bed. Again, nothing moved. It was as if everything—even this moment—was suspended in thick, black syrup made from the fabric between waking and sleeping.
This…didn’t feel real. So maybe it was a dream. A dream that was so vivid he thought he was awake. That…did happen, right? Reaching back, he felt around in his memory for any mention of such things. He came up empty. Apparently, he just— didn’t talk about dreams, especially strange ones like this one.
This is silly. He shook his head and forced himself to relax. This is not— There’s no danger. Just…go back to sleep. Still, he held himself at the ready for a few more heartbeats, straining for any sound in the shadow-drunk night.
Nothing.
He snorted. He was jumping at shadows now? Had his instincts gotten this rusty? Shaking his head again, he lay down. Just a dream. This was just a dream and—
A rumble, no, more of a muffled purr.
Fralith froze, reality snapping back into place. No. This was real. Very real. Ice melt washed down his spine, caution prickling his arms and the back of his neck with sharp claws. I wish I had my knife!
Taking a slow, measured breath, he pushed down the leaping of his heart and focused his ears on the sound. Purring, coming from behind him. It…was too muffled to be in the room with him—thank the Eternal—but not warped enough to be too far away.
With even, slow movements, he pushed the blanket off of him and positioned himself so he was facing the window to the side of his bed. Gently, he pushed aside the corner of the curtain, squinting at the flood of light stealing his night vision. He huffed. Nighttime was not supposed to be this bright. Silly LightTrees.
His eyes adjusted and his gaze landed on the small strip of grass outside the house and the BlackStrip next to it. It was not the cool breath from the ClearStone or even the utter stillness of outside that chilled his bones.
No. It was the sleek, black MetalEater quietly purring like a SnowPounce playing with its prey on the BlackStrip, looking for all the world as if it was watching him.
He held his breath, scanning the thick shadows clumping in the corners of his room. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. It was just him and the darkness. Quietly, he let air seep from his lungs, the space between his shoulder blades itching as if a gaze prickled his skin.
But…his back was to a wall. No one could be behind him. Still, he twisted around, fingers fisting. Darkness. Just…darkness, nothing more. What had woken him? Something had woken him; he remembered jerking awake to…to…something. Had it been a sound? A movement? Another dream?
Turning back around, he scanned the darkness again, every muscle tense and ready to spring out of bed. Again, nothing moved. It was as if everything—even this moment—was suspended in thick, black syrup made from the fabric between waking and sleeping.
This…didn’t feel real. So maybe it was a dream. A dream that was so vivid he thought he was awake. That…did happen, right? Reaching back, he felt around in his memory for any mention of such things. He came up empty. Apparently, he just— didn’t talk about dreams, especially strange ones like this one.
This is silly. He shook his head and forced himself to relax. This is not— There’s no danger. Just…go back to sleep. Still, he held himself at the ready for a few more heartbeats, straining for any sound in the shadow-drunk night.
Nothing.
He snorted. He was jumping at shadows now? Had his instincts gotten this rusty? Shaking his head again, he lay down. Just a dream. This was just a dream and—
A rumble, no, more of a muffled purr.
Fralith froze, reality snapping back into place. No. This was real. Very real. Ice melt washed down his spine, caution prickling his arms and the back of his neck with sharp claws. I wish I had my knife!
Taking a slow, measured breath, he pushed down the leaping of his heart and focused his ears on the sound. Purring, coming from behind him. It…was too muffled to be in the room with him—thank the Eternal—but not warped enough to be too far away.
With even, slow movements, he pushed the blanket off of him and positioned himself so he was facing the window to the side of his bed. Gently, he pushed aside the corner of the curtain, squinting at the flood of light stealing his night vision. He huffed. Nighttime was not supposed to be this bright. Silly LightTrees.
His eyes adjusted and his gaze landed on the small strip of grass outside the house and the BlackStrip next to it. It was not the cool breath from the ClearStone or even the utter stillness of outside that chilled his bones.
No. It was the sleek, black MetalEater quietly purring like a SnowPounce playing with its prey on the BlackStrip, looking for all the world as if it was watching him.
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