Young Writers Society

Ok... so this is like the first half of chapter 1. The revision is taking me forever! I think I am just going to totally rewrite the second half. But I figured I would post the first part of the work in progress. If I'm lucky (I'm usually not), I might have a little time tomorrow to work. Homework is evil.

I have been told in previous reviews to work on pacing, imagery, repetition and my characters. I am kind of wondering if I improved these areas a decent amount, and how much more work they need.

But anyway... here is what I have revised so far.

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Chapter 1

“Last day of school, Fern. Wake up!” came Dad’s voice from the hall.

Sunlight poured into the sparsely decorated room, the glare off the bronze trophy of a horse and rider forced Fern to sit up. She shoved the covers off. “It all must have been a dream,” She thought in astonishment while she changed into her simple farm clothes. “It had seemed so real though.”

Fern was hit with the scents of breakfast the moment she opened the door into the hall. Her nose twitched and her eyes brightened. She quickly finished her contemplation by telling herself, “Stop being so concerned with silly pointless things like dreams. Unless you want to end up like those senseless, city people in the east.”

The worn stairs were slick underneath Fern’s feet as she descended them, passed the humble living room, and paused in the hall to look in the mirror. For a split second, a wolf appeared there, the same as in Fern’s dream. It was so beautiful; its snow white fur was shiny. But Fern’s shocked face appeared in the mirror a moment afterward framed by dull, untidy locks and she shook her head, certain that she had imagined the wolf. She turned away from the mirror and walked silently on, propelled by hunger.

Fern padded across the wooden floor of the kitchen, and chimed “Morning, Mom!” to the skinny and frail-looking woman as she kept the scrambled eggs moving around in the skilled.

“Good morning, Fern,” was the soft reply.

Fern sat down next to the red-nosed, long haired boy at the sturdy table for a hurried, yet complete breakfast. A mountain of eggs loomed over some greasy bacon. Fern piled eggs into her mouth with a ferocity that caused her mother to snort with disapproval and the boy to stare with wonder. Unaware of the intensity of her eating, Fern shoved all three slices of bacon into her mouth, bit down, and swallowed. Fern’s plate was clear in less than five minutes.

“Wow sis, a new record,” exclaimed Fern’s little brother, Bo, who was half way through with his minute breakfast. He cleared the hair from his eyes and stared at Fern’s plate in awe.

“Yeah. Finish up and come help me feed the critters,” Fern said as she gave the door a powerful yank and slipped outside.

Fern walked toward the pasture with light, confident movements, enjoying the cool wind off the lofty peaks of the Terracordula Mountains and the pale green color of the soft grass under her feet. She climbed on top of the iron gate into the first field. She paused at the top rail and savored the clean and fresh taste of the air. She walked past the stable where the horses where kept at night in the winter or in bad weather. This time of year, though, they were left outside to enjoy the mild climate. Fern opened the gate to the stable and whistled. A few seconds later, the herd of horses rushed over the hill, headed for the stable.

Hildia rushed out in front with the astonishing speed of a horse that was racing to win the biggest race on all of Terra. Fern grinned, and remembered the bronze trophy in her room. Despite the fact that they had only won a small county wide contest Fern glowed with pride and hope as she watched her horse sprint. Hildia’s blood bay coat glistened in the sun and her black mane blew back. Hildia raced past Fern with a powerful rush that brought a thrill of power and vigor to the girl. She raced after her horse and felt her heart pound.

Fern placed feed in all the troughs and went over to stroke Hildia. The horse looked at Fern with her big eyes and tossed her head excitedly. It seemed to Fern that the mare was the only one who understood her, with the exception of her best and only friend, Sam (short for Samantha).

Ignoring the rules, Fern leaped up onto Hildia’s back and clucked. The horse sped out of the stable and raced over the hill. Wind and horse hair whipped Fern’s face, but she didn’t mind, it was a perfect morning. Any morning Fern could ride was perfect. The mare’s muscles rippled with speed and power. Fern fell into the fluid pattern of Hildia’s run so that she felt like she was part of Hildia’s fiery strength. Horse and rider raced down to the brook, and paused to watch a maple leaf flow past. Fern patted her horse’s neck and reminisced about the first time her hand had slid along the sweat lathered coat.

The autumn sunlight had reflected off the very same brook. Fern had stood next to Samantha on this same bank; both had fallen silent in the middle of a fit of laughter, because of the beautiful horse they had spotted on the opposite bank. It stood still as a figure carved of copper and stared at the two eight year-old girls with its ears tilted towards them.

Sam had turned her head very slightly toward Fern, and murmured, “That horse doesn’t look familiar, did your Dad buy more stock?”

“No,” Fern had whispered back, “but if it is wild how did it get in here, couldn’t have cleared the fence?”

Sam turned to her friend and said, “Maybe your Dad bought it secretly for you, a really tame horse so you could actually ride.”

“Hey! I can ride!” Fern had shouted at her friend.

Sam held up her hands in surrender, “Alright, alright, so you can get near it, then.” Sam had then looked over at the horse, it hadn’t moved. “Well, lets see if we can get near it.”

Fern nodded and the two girls picked their way across the river on the barely submerged stones. The horse had tolerated the pair of them until they were an arm span away. Then Sam, who was a step behind Fern stopped, and Fern continued forward alone. Fern was so stunned by the unique blood color of the horse that she never noticed her friend stop cautiously. Fern’s hand had run along the blood bay mare’s neck before Fern had registered what she was doing.

It was with that simple, unconscious movement that Fern had earned her first horse. As it turned out, Hildia, Fern’s horse wasn’t truly as tame as she seemed. It had taken many months of work to break Hildia to reins, saddle, and people.

The maple leaf Fern had subconsciously been following flowed over a small waterfall. Fern was jolted out of the warm sunlight of her memory and into the crisp morning of the present.

Fern made a soft click with her tongue, and Hildia turned away from the brook and climbed up to the field. Instead of going back toward the stable like Fern indicated with her hands and feet, Hildia headed to the place where Fern had attacked the mountain lion in her dream. The mare looked at a specific place on the ground, and refused to budge. Fern rolled her eyes, and climbed down to investigate what Hildia was focused on.

Fern knelt by the patch of mud that Hildia was staring at. A paw print, like that of a missive dog was pressed into the ground. Fern put her hand next to it. The print was roughly the size of her hand, the distance between the claws and pad of the print was about from the large knuckle in her finger to the base of the palm. The first thing that came into her mind was wolves. She immediately began looking around for more tracks, but this print was on an island of mud in a sea of soft grass, there would be no other prints to find. Fern took a last look at the terrifying print, and climbed back onto Hildia.

Now that Fern had examined the print Hildia was content to head back to the stable. The ground turned muddy as they reached the stable entrance, and the smells of manure and hay became predominant. Fern slid off her horse and began finishing her stable chores.

By the time Fern had gotten the horses back to the pasture, Bo had finished feeding the chickens and was about to feed Sweep. Fern arrived by the dog house at the same time as her younger brother. Bo was carrying Sweep’s food dish in one hand, water bowl in the other and carrying Fern’s forgotten shoes over his shoulder. Sweep wagged his shaggy tail as Bo laid down his food and water bowls. “You forgot your shoes, again,” Bo said as lifted them off his shoulder and handed them to Fern. Bo knelt next to the dog and began stroking him, while Fern glared at the knot that Bo had tied her laces together with. Fern sighed and walked over the lean on the doghouse while she undid Bo’s crazy knot.

Once Fern had finished cramping her feet into her shoes she joined Bo and stroked Sweep’s fur.

Fern starred at the collie’s feet, but they were much to small and dainty to have made the track in the pasture. Fern began to say something to Bo, but stopped as Sweep directed his attention to washing Fern’s face. Fern pushed the dog away, she didn’t particularly enjoy the dog breath. She was content to burry her hands in Sweep’s warm fur.

Finally Fern stood up and sighed, “Come on, Bo. We don’t want to miss the bus.” She watched as her scrawny brother hugged the dog. She couldn’t help but grin, that dog didn’t have the impressive strength of a horse, but he was a true companion, always following till he sensed he was being a nuisance. Fern laughed. She had once again made a ridiculous comparison between the dog and her brother, they both had the same ability to sense what needed to be done. The boy and farm dog looked at her quizzically.

Fern shook her head walked off down the dirt road.

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Harsh critiques welcome!