Another day, another dollar. Or rather, another Sunday, another six sentences.
You know the drill – here’s the link - click it to find loads of snippets of new published and unpubl;ished works by people you may never have heard of YET but who will certainly be making their mark in the months to come.
Meanwhile, here’s my bit from A Fierce Reaping, showing another side to Cynfal’s character.
Cynfal hesitated for one moment then stooped to duck under the lintel and step into Gwion’s home. He blinked, trying to make out the shapes in the dimness within, then Gwion threw back the doorflap to let the wintery light stream in to reveal a floor well strewn with oat straw and a couple of hides for seating.
There was another stool, a couple of oat bins, a painted chest with a saddle and bridle on top of it, a general lived in clutter of which Cynfal approved and a broad bed at the back of the building of which he approved even more.
Even with the covers thrown back to allow it to air he could imagine how warm and comfortable it would be – far more comfortable, his inner bastard murmured, than a cloak and a blanket with Aeddan and the others snoring in his ear.
More interesting still was the dark mass beside the wall, highlit with the soft gleam of well tended leather and the spark of bronze buckles, that was surely too big to be just one set of body armour.
“Snug place,” Cynfal said and grinned to see Gwion’s pleased smile.
Won’t be about much at the weekend because I’m going to Uk Meet – a mini convention for writers and readers of LGBTTQ lit. However I will try to catch up on everyone’s sixes on Monday.