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I wrote this for NaNo. I did get 50k, but I haven't really gotten past that stage of editing... (That is, I haven't done any) So I think I need help... ??? Thanks for your interest.
CHAPTER 1
Wenonah jumped out of bed, throwing her hand-sewn quilt from her body. It landed with a soft thump on the floor, but she ignored it, staring off into space. As if in a trance, she walked in her bare feet towards the small window, moving sluggishly. Then suddenly, she broke free, gasping in shock. She clutched at her arm, waiting for the pain to subside. What was going on? You couldn’t feel pain in dreams. Had she hit her arm on something in her sleep? She massaged her wrist and fore-arm tentatively.
The terror of the dream was still with her, though it was slipping away along with the pain. She shivered in the early dawn air. Her night gown swished against the floor as she continued to the window, stumbling. Feeling for the latch in the gloom of the pre-dawn light, she lifted the window with her good arm and leaned her head out, breathing in the cold, damp air.
Mist drifted over the fields, obscuring the small heads of wheat that had just begun to come up. At the edge of the pasture, she could just make out the edge of the barn, visible only as a dark shadow in the air. Shadowy evergreen trees and large bushes edged the paddock, dripping half-frozen water onto the ground. Wenonah shivered again, teeth knocking together. Turning around, she shut the window and dove back into bed, pulling the quilt from the ground as she went. She rolled over in the bed, falling into a sleepy haze as she began to warm up.
The sound of footsteps creaking on the stair reminded her to get up. Shaking her drowsy head, she crawled out again, reaching into the dresser for a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a sweater. Dream forgotten for the moment, she hopped down the stairs, pulling on a heavy jacket. Her mother was in the kitchen with Lenmana, making oatmeal in a large pot.
“Morning Wenonah! Your father is already outside with Kele. Why don’t you help them with the chores while I finish breakfast?”
Wenonah nodded. “Morning Mom. Are you sure you don’t want me to finish the oatmeal?”
Kai smiled at her. “Thanks, but it’s almost done.”
Wenonah pulled on a coat, pouting. Much as she enjoyed being outdoors, she still felt cold and shivery, and she wanted to be inside near the stove. She opened the wooden door, and then pushed on the screen. It creaked stubbornly as she opened it, and as she stepped down the concrete steps, it slammed shut behind her. The noise echoed in the early morning light, and Wenonah pulled her jacket tightly around her shoulders.
The grass that brushed against her boots was wet with dew, and it sent tiny little splashes up around her calves as she ran around the corner of the house, across the field, and up to the log building they used as a barn.
The barn’s double doors were wide open, and she saw Kele leading Tadewi and Chepi out into the paddock. The elderly horses clomped along docilely, happy to go to another day of grass-eating. Wenonah nodded a good-morning to her brother before going into the barn. There was already a bale of hay opened, and her father was stuffing some of it into the sheep’s feeder.
“Morning Dad!”
He looked up, grinning at her.
“Can you milk Ms. Molly for me? I haven’t got a chance to do it yet.”
And so she opened the heavy stall door, slipping in with the cow and her year-old calf, who were both munching their hay. Wenonah sat on the milk stool and got to work. It took her longer than it took her father, and she didn’t get all the milk, but the milk pail was almost full when she sat it outside the stall door. Maybe they could put some on their oatmeal. Taking some grain in a pail, she let the chickens out into their little enclosed run, and scattered some grain for them. By the time she was done, Len had already fed the pig, and was talking to Kele by the doors. Wenonah glanced at them before hurrying up the loft ladder.
It was dark in the loft, the only light coming from small cracks in the walls and the hole beneath her feet. Hay bales were stacked three-high, around the back of the loft, where the wooden roof sloped down to the ground. Wenonah pulled herself up onto the straw covered floor, taking a few steps forward and dusting off her clothes. Stepping around a stack, she knelt down, approaching a nest of hay and fur. A light-grey body gently rose up and down, and a long tail twitched in the straw. Wenonah slowly pulled herself forward on hands and knees, trying to be quiet. Suddenly, the mother cat was awake, and furious. She hissed loudly at Wenonah, jumping up to stand in front of her nest.
Wenonah froze, trying to stay calm. The cat batted at her with a front paw, pulling back at the last second. Wenonah retreated a little, while the smoky grey cat hissed again, and paced back and forth. Smoke was usually a very friendly cat, and she lived in the barn, catching rodents and keeping them company. But now she had kittens, and her personality seemed to have completely changed.
“It’s alright!”
Wenonah tried to sound soothing, but the cat didn’t seem to be convinced. Wenonah retreated still further, perching on the end of the ladder. The cat relaxed, and began to wash herself. Wenonah glanced around her body, and caught sight of five little bodies of fur. At least, it looked like five. They were all together in a heap, and it was hard to tell which bodies belonged to which kittens. Wenonah watched them for a few minutes before climbing back down the ladder.
~~~~~~~~
After breakfast, Wenonah went back outside, traveling the length of the corn field, and into the small clearing at the end. It was the last stretch of land that her father had cleared for planting, though they had never grown anything there. It was right on the border of the trees, and Wenonah loved to sit and read on the rock in the center, basking in the sun or listening to the sounds of the forest around her.
This time she clambered up to sit on the rock, but didn’t read. Instead she watched the trees, swaying gently and hypnotically in the breeze. She could smell pine and moss and dampness on the breeze. They sun was up now, and it had warmed the rock. She lay down on it and relaxed, watching the sky. She closed her eyes briefly, and listened to the sound of the wind through the tree branches, and the birds singing. Without realizing it, she began to sink into a half-sleep, thinking; I’m never this sleepy… What’s going on? But still she sank lower, forgetting everything around her.
She sniffed the air, turned around, and whimpered out loud as a searing pain burned through her left foreleg. Terror briefly coursed through her limbs and then everything went black.
The large black wolf uttered a short bark-howl and began to lick the gray wolf’s face. He followed the smell of blood to her leg, were a strong steel jaw was buried deep into her flesh. He studied it carefully, picking up a large stick and beginning to push on the part of the metal device that was exposed. Nothing happened. He tried again, growling in frustration, his black muzzle quivering. After nearly an hour of patient prodding, there was a click and the jaws of the savage metal beast released the wolf’s leg.
Sounds drifted around her head, recognizable as words but not clear enough to be understood. The pain seemed to have abated, but her terror had not. A dark form drifted above her. It didn’t seem to want to take on a specific shape. She closed her eyes hard and then opened them with more conviction. Her vision was back, and so was her pain. This time, she fought the blackness as it inched up along with the swelling of agony, momentarily blocking her peripheral vision. She did not faint, though the pain was nearly unbearable. She twitched on the ground, and that sent another spasm of pain up her leg. As she looked down, she noticed that she was lying down in a deep bed of clover.
A wet nose nuzzled her fur, and then teeth fastened in her scruff. She was too weak to struggle or protest, and allowed herself to be dragged a short way. The pain of the movement threatened to send her back to the dark place. She fought the urge to allow herself to sink into that cool, dark nothingness. A familiar scent flooded her senses. A large black muzzle came down and started licking her leg, which was still wet from the blood. She could hear the faint sound of the blood, dripping down and staining the clover a deep crimson red…
As her other senses gradually came back, she realized that one of her front legs had been seriously injured. Her paw was pointed at an awkward angle, and smalls drops of blood dripped sluggishly from small puncture wounds in her leg, left in a strange circular pattern where the steel trap had held her. The rough tongue hurt, and she could not suppress a yelp of pain. Then she heard other sounds from the trees around her. The rest of the pack had come to investigate. Wenonah lifted her head just long enough to see a gray and black she-wolf standing over her, then the whole scene started to fade and she could feel herself starting to wake up.
Try to have the information spread out more among later chapters... the first one should still be serving to suck your readers in.
