Helen (heleninwales) wrote,

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Writing progress

Another couple of hundred words revised today. Too complicated to try to count exactly.

I think this is all moving much more fluidly now. It was very stodgy before, like cold porridge. Also Huw does much, much more and doesn't just hang around being wimpish.

Here's just a taste of the skirmish...

Brand, powerfully built, seemingly tireless, snarled through his beard like a bear brought to bay by a pack of hounds. He dodged and wove and his sword cut bright arcs through the air, keeping Kararl's men a sword's length away. But Huw knew he couldn't last long now he was alone. He urged his horse into a gallop.

The big monster was quietly eating the dead rider and to reach Brand, Huw had to pass close to it. Intent on its meal, it didn't look round as Huw approached, but his horse's head come up, nostrils flared and eyes rolling at the smell of blood and the sight of the monster ripping flesh from the body. The horse faltered and, as Huw tried to kick it on, it balked, shying away, nearly unseating him. He clung on grimly as the horse snatched for the bit and bolted in earnest, carting him away from the monster and the skirmish.

Wriggling back into the saddle, retrieving his stirrups and fighting the horse back under control took Huw a mortifying couple of minutes. He was supposedly the best rider here: farmer's son and horsebreaker. He'd teased Gawain only the day before, saying that he rode with the style and grace of a sack of barley. But there was Gawain, in the thick of it, wielding his sword as though he was an old pro like Angrak's southern soldiers and not, until barely two weeks ago, a mere tailor. Huw tried to console himself with the thought that he'd drawn the short straw in the livery stables yesterday, that precisely because he was the best rider and also small and wiry, he had been given the little chestnut youngster, barely broken to saddle and certainly not schooled to the horrors of battle.

When Huw finally got the horse both listening to him and pointing in the right direction, he scanned the field of battle, taking stock of the situation. He was startled to see Mark, the blond stranger, running straight towards the feeding monster.
Tags: a necessary evil, writing progress

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