C. Lee McKenzie's Blog, page 15

I Have A Title

This title has been a long time in coming. At first, I called it The Girl Who Learned to Fly Again, and I used that while I wrote the story. But the more I thought about it, the less that seemed to work, so for a long time I just called it Flying Woman.

I had this image of a young woman sailing down snow-covered mountains, hair streaming behind, joy radiating from her. Here was a person who loved what they did and it showed.

Well, Flying Woman didn’t fly with me or anyone else I ran it past. Finally, the real title came, but not in a flash. It more or less crept up bit by bit. I remember starting with the image of snow-topped roofs, and the slow trickle of water that form icicles under a wintery sun. For a while, I carried that image around with me, and then I thought about what happens when you snap off one of those long thin chunks. Sometimes they shatter, don’t they? And there was my metaphor.

My young protagonist was going to have a lifetime dream taken from her in one terrible moment. Her dreams were going shatter. Her body as well. So the title became…

Shattered: A Story of Betrayal and Courage

Nineteen-year-old Libby Brown is on her way to the winter Olympics for her shot at the Gold. But on a last practice run, an out-of-bounds snowboarder collides with her, and she wakes up in a hospital unable to move her legs. Terrible accident they say, but was it? Or did someone want her off the U.S. slalom team? Libby must find the truth or remain shattered forever.

So there it is. I have a title and the cover artist is working on how the final package is going to look. Now’s when I start getting excited and really anxious. I love covers. To me, they can make or break a book. I can’t wait to share it with you.

Writing Real

If this were a fantasy, I could let my imagination run free. I do that when I write for young kids, and I love it. However, since I wanted this book to be as realistic and accurate as possible, I did a lot of research.

Available on Amazon

I attended a presentation by Karen Trolan, a woman who lost the use of her legs in a small plane crash and still downhill and water skis. She’d written a short biography about her experience as a paraplegic, and I read that to get a first-hand account of what it’s like to go from someone with the use of all limbs, to one who has to rely on a wheelchair. The image of the sit-ski on her cover is one that helped me describe this adaptive equipment.

Of course, I did a lot of Google searches. The world of paraplegia is well represented, and so I was able to find excellent information about a subject I knew little about.

I also interviewed one doctor and a clinical specialist in spinal cord injuries when I started to draft this book. They both gave me some very Real Facts about what paraplegics face. They also made it clear that Hollywood hadn’t gotten it right, hinting that they hoped I would.

Making the story real and yet making it appealing for readers was my biggest challenge in writing this story. How could I avoid the Hollywood cliches, yet keep a reader reading? And most importantly, how could I give an honest portrayal so that anyone who experienced what my main character did would identify with her?

I was fortunate that these very busy experts were willing to give me so much of their time. After I’d spent several hours talking to them and asking questions, I had no choice but to finish the project and see it into print. I felt as if I couldn’t let them down.

The biggest test is going to be my paraplegic readers. Will they think I got it right?

I’m in countdown mode and hope to see this book in print before long. If you haven’t already offered to lend a hand with my launch, just leave me a comment if you’d like to add your name. Any help is appreciated!

Adapting Makes Anything Possible

There’s a lesson for all of us when it comes to the topic of adapting. If we’re not flexible and adjust to new situations, we’re likely to fail in reaching our goals. When I first started thinking about writing this new book, I imagined a young girl who would never participate in the one sport she’d always dreamed of being the very best in–downhill skiing. By the time I’d written her story, she showed me just how wrong I could be.

Along the way, I found so many examples of people who not only learned new ways to take part in their favorite sport(s), but also branched out and became stars in different ones.

This video features adaptive equipment for indoor rowing, something that helped train two people to medal in the Paralympics. Very inspiring.

As writers, we’re always encouraging each other not to give up, even when we’re up to our eyeballs in rejections. I think we can add “adjust to the changes” in this business of writing to part of our mutual support. And these days there’s one heck of a lot of that to do, isn’t there?

Although I don’t have a firm publication date from the publisher, I’m putting out the call for help with my launch in October. I’d so appreciate SPACE ON YOUR BLOG, TWEETS, FB POSTS, INSTAGRAM POSTS. If you’re up for doing a REVIEW, that works as well. Just leave a comment with your preference and I’ll be in touch.

You might want to see what’s happening HERE.Enter to win a $12 Gift Certificate during the Young Adult Bookish Event. It’s open internationally.

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Have you ever been so touched by a story that it changed your life?

Today Kathryn McKendry is a guest and she’s introducing her new book. Welcome Kathryn.

One Year on Broadway is the unlikely true story of two musical theater fans whose lives were forever changed by seeing a touring production of Once on This Island in 1992. What they saw that night was a version of their own story played out on the stage and it gave them the courage to fight for their own forbidden love.

Twenty-five years later, by some strange twist of fate, they were led back to the Island where they ignored conventional wisdom, took a leap of faith, and became co-producers of the Tony Award-winning Broadway Revival of Once On This Island.
This is their love letter to the musical that gave them more than they ever could have imagined.
Amazon ebookGoodReads

Paperback: $13.99 ISBN 978-1-7356100-1-6
E-book: $3.99  ISBN 978-1-7356100-0-9Published by: One Small Girl Publishing

Author Bio: Aside from her incredible year on Broadway, Kathryn has coached figure skating for over thirty years, working with skaters of all ages and levels. Currently, she is the head coach of a theater on ice team. When she’s not coaching, writing, or hanging out with her family, she loves traveling, cooking, and of course seeing Broadway shows. Kathryn lives in the Cleveland area with her husband, three kids, and three dogs.

Follow Kathryn onInstagram: @kjmckendryTwitter: @kathmckendry

Some 1st Wednesday Inspiration

“A dream written down becomes a goal. A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan. A plan backed by action becomes reality. Today my goal for the past 4 years, well 5, thanks to COVID becomes a reality!…” Leanne Smith

Leanne Smith represented the U.S. in the breaststroke at the 2020 Paralympics in Tokyo. Smith who suffers from dystonia (a neurological muscle disease that causes painful and uncontrollable muscle spasms) is one heck of a planner and competitor. When I read what she wrote about making it down the path to the big games, I was so impressed that I copied her words and tried to put them into my own context as a writer.

As I wrote this next book that’s coming out in October 2021, I did a lot of research about paraplegia, and I never failed to find inspiration in the lives of those who have had life-altering events that threatened to derail their cherished plans. It seemed that the more challenges these people encountered, the more they pushed to succeed in making their goals. That’s something I’ve tucked away to remember when my plans derail. Instead of giving up, I’ll remember what I’ve learned from writing this book about those who don’t have give up in their vocabulary.

And now the winners from my month-long contest to celebrate the publication of this next book.

Signed Books/ eBooks (for international winners)

Cathrina Constatine, Mary Aalgaard, Sandra Cox, Mike Boyd, Elephant Child, Liz. A., Rebecca Douglas, Patricia Garcia, Sheri Sudweeks, Hilary, Michael Di Gesu, Jemi Fraser, Natalie Aguirre, Sherry Hilger, Simone Smith, J. Lennie Dorner, Jeff.

$10 Amazon Gift Certificates

Elephant Child
Natalie Aguirre

Join Us NowSeptember Question

How do you define success as a writer? Is it holding your book in your hand? Having a short story published? Making a certain amount of income from your writing?

The co-hosts for the September 1 posting of the IWSG are Rebecca Douglass,T. Powell Coltrin @Journaling Woman,Natalie Aguirre,Karen Lynn, and C. Lee McKenzie!

From the way the question is phrased, it’s clear that success is highly subjective. It will be interesting to visit everyone today and read the answers.

Mine is short and pretty simple. I feel successful if I write a story that people enjoy reading. And I feel doubly successful if the next book is better crafted than the previous one. I hadn’t re-read my previously published novels until I finished this newest one. But I was curious to see if I’d become an improved storyteller, so I finally cracked open a couple of earlier publications. To tell the truth, I was a bit nervous. What if I hadn’t grown as a writer? What if I was stuck and couldn’t grow in my craft? Since this post has a theme of bravery, I thought re-reading old writing would be a good test of my nerve.

As it turned out, I did find some improvement, but I was disappointed that I hadn’t made any major leaps between my last book (Not Guilty) and this one. I had made more between my first book (Sliding on the Edge) and this one, and I had to resist taking up my red editor’s pen to get rid of some annoying cliches and newbie writing in Sliding.

What a challenging and interesting field this writing of stories is. I can’t read a great story without thinking, wow, look at all those words and how beautiful they are when they’re put together just so. Here’s to everyone’s success, regardless of what it looks like for each of you.

The next #IWSGPit is already on the calendar, so be sure to add the date to yours and start brushing up on that pitch. It’s always fun to jump into a Twitter Pitch.

Quote of the Month: Bravery is the capacity to perform even when scared half to death. Admiral Omar N. Bradley

The Cure by Patricia Josephine

She’s heard about a cure locked away in a lab in Upper Michigan, and she plans on retrieving it. To do so, she needs a zombie. Not just any zombie, though.

Zee is Erin’s link to the lab. His connection to the living world is her bargaining chip. But only if she can teach him to control his mindless impulses.

Can a zombie be trained? Or will Erin be Zee’s next meal and become a zombie herself? The fate of humanity rests in her hands.

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Excerpt
I rose with the sun. A yawn shook me as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Before the world ended, I wasn’t a morning person. Most days I woke closer to noon. My job as a freelance writer allowed it. Like an idiot, I took it for granted. Now, if I wanted to get anything done, I had to do it while the sun was up and visibility was good.
Damn, I missed sleeping in.

I dragged my feet as I headed to the deck. Sunlight cast golden rays across the river. Waves lapped gently at the yacht’s side. The air was crisp, and my breath fogged.

I cracked open a bottle of water and took a sip. What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee. I used to have a canister of instant coffee, but I ran out three months ago. I was still chastising myself for not rationing it better. Later, I would go to the Soo Locks Park and stock up on supplies. I could barter for more there.

Acquiring coffee had to wait, though. My new friend needed to be checked on.

I scarfed down a breakfast bar before grabbing my shotgun and a backpack and clambered into the raft.

A moan pierced the air as I reached land. I secured the raft and darted to the base. I entered a small reception area.

A waist-high desk was near the door with a computer sitting on it. A few chairs were set in the center of the room.

Notifications hung on a cork bulletin board. Silence hung in the air as if the room was a bubble that somehow escaped the apocalypse. I almost expected to see Coast Guard personnel walk through the door and demand to know what I was doing.

I shook the feeling off and strode to the red cooler under a window. Flies swarmed around it. When I opened it, a sour stench assaulted my nose. I gagged, barely holding down my breakfast, grabbed a dead rat, and slammed the lid shut.

I walked to the tarp, removed a cinder block, and lifted the edge. Snarls greeted me. The zombie clawed at the sides of the earth. Hunger lit its eyes like fireworks. I lifted my shotgun and pointed it at its head. It stilled.

“That’s a good boy.” I lowered onto my knees. “You’ve been dead long enough to develop your basic instincts. How to walk and run. I’ve heard stories of zombies who forgot how to do that.”

The zombie watched me with narrowed eyelids. The color of its eyes had dulled to a muddy brown, and the whites were tinged yellow. Was it trying to figure out how to get out and eat me?

I smirked. “You should know how to hunt by now. Zombies sometimes hunt in packs. You aren’t as mindless as movies made you out to be.” I dangled the dead rat above it.

The zombie snarled, and spit flew from its mouth.

A surge of bitterness rose up my throat. The skin on my knuckles turned white from how tightly I clutched the rat by the tail.

This could’ve been stopped. Lives and the world could’ve been saved. She might still be here.

Take a Test…Will you survive the zombie apocalypse?

You wake up and find the zombie apocalypse has started. What do you do?
A: Take stock of anything you can use as a weapon, secure your home, and take stock of what food you have and how long it will last.
B: Get closer to look at a so-called zombie. This can’t be real.
C: Barricade yourself in your home and freak out.

Which of the following weapons would you use to kill zombies?
A: Gun.
B: Knife.
C: Baseball bat.

You’re making your way downtown in hopes of finding supplies. Along the way, you see a group of 4 zombies. They appear to be eating some unlucky sap. How do you get around them?
A: Backtrack and take a different route.
B: Run in with guns blazing and take them out.
C: Throw something that makes noise and causes the zombies to follow it.

Someone you love is now a zombie. How do you react?
A: Shoot them and put them out of their misery. It’s what you’d want if the roles were reversed.
B: Sob.
C: Capture them and put them somewhere secure in hopes of someone finding a cure.

You’ve found a group of survivors, but they don’t trust you’re not infected. How do you gain their trust?
A: Put your hands up and back away to show you are no threat. Leave. It’s not worth trying to reason with them.
B: Strip and show to show that you are not infected, setting all your weapons aside.
C: Insist that you are not infected, motioning to visible skin and lack of blood on your clothing.

Results
If you answered mostly A then you’ll survive. You take survival seriously and don’t take unnecessary risks. You’ll either do it alone or find people you trust. You may even end up the leader of the group.
If you answered mostly B then you are screwed. You don’t take stock of your surroundings, don’t exercises caution, and think you are invincible. And now you’re a zombie.
If you answered mostly C then you have a chance. Sure, the concept of the zombie apocalypse freaked you out, but you’ve calmed down and you’re hoping with enough gumption you’ll make it. If not, you at least plan on taking out as many as you can first.

Giveaway!
Ends August 31st.

About the Author

Patricia never set out to become a writer, and in fact, she never considered it an option during high school and college. She was more of an art and band geek. Some stories are meant to be told, though, and now she can’t stop writing.

Patricia lives with her husband in Michigan, hopes one day to have what will resemble a small petting zoo, and has a fondness for dying her hair the colors of the rainbow.

Social Media Links:
Website – http://www.patriciajosephine.com
Newsletter – http://www.patriciajosephine.com/news...
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...
Amazon Author Page – https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00UH7GAK0
Facebook Page – https://www.facebook.com/pjlauthor

Sneak Peek #12 Especially For You

This is THE LAST DAY of my Character Reveal series for my next book.

There’s no quiz today, but the answers to all the quizzes are below. I’ve left links to previous posts if you’re joining me late, so you can work your way back if you want to see the other posts and comment to enter to win a book and possibly a GC. Here’s last week’s POST.

Thank you for joining me and meeting my characters. Thanks for making this August month a lot of fun. I’ll be announcing the winners soon and getting in touch with them so I can arrange to send books as soon as they’re available!

Wunderstock

Here’s Libby, the girl who must choose to either remain shattered or rebuild her life. I’ll post one of the key moments in my protagonist’s life, the moment in the hospital that kicks off the story and sets Libby on the way to whatever future she may have.

 I knew hearts didn’t stop beating until you died, yet I was certain mine had just stuttered to a halt. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs refused to expand. My throat went dry. I’d planned most of my life for this one year. I’d worked out, built my strength, gone to ski camps, kept at it until I’d made it through the selection process—until I’d almost made the US Olympic slalom team. I had my passport. I’d packed my bags weeks ago. Now, my mother was telling me I couldn’t do what I’d lived for all these years?
     My heart kicked in and air filled my chest. “Shut up! Shut up!” In my mind, I screamed, but that’s not the way I heard my voice. Shut up sounded like a whimper. 
     “Libby, stop.” Dad was back, his hand on my shoulder, his face filled with pain. “Please, stop.”
     His calm presence and the terrible sound of his plea brought me up short.
     I gulped back the ragged clutch that filled my throat. “Why? Why can’t I ski with my team?” Then I glanced down. Mom was lying across the foot of the bed. She was lying across my legs, and I didn’t feel the weight of my mother’s body.

The Answers to the Quizzes! Did you get them all right?

1. What famous book features these minor, but memorable characters? Aragorn, Pippin and Merry. 
A. Star Wars
B. Great Expectations
XC. Lord of the Rings

2. Who wrote this unlikeable character? Mr. Collins
XA. Jane Austen
B. J.K. Rowling
C. John Grisham

3. How do psychologists say we should react when our friends behave immaturely?
A. Give them understanding and sympathy
XB. Never support their poor behavior. 
C. Give them a good scolding.

4. What generation in the U.S. usually makes up what we call “helicopter moms”?
XA. The women who grew up in the late 70s, early 80s called the “latch key” kids.
B. The women who were from single-parent homes.
C. The women who were orphaned early in life.

5. There have been many mother-daughter relationship threads in stories told over time. Here are three. Which of these is the most modern tale? 
XA. Pride and Prejudice
B. Book of Ruth
C. A Sicilian Tragedy

6. There are some famous fathers in books. I’ve matched three to books, but only one match is correct. Which one? 
A. Jack Torrance, About A Boy
B. Atticus Finch, Pride and Prejudice
XC. Arthur Weasley, Harry Potter Series

7. Here are the names of three “bad boy” characters in young adult literature. One isn’t really a character in a book. Which one?
A. Ronan Lynch
XB. Whit Moreland
C. Damon Salvatore

8. Here are some facts about World Para Swimming (Olympic competition for handicapped swimmers). Two are correct. One is not. Which one is not true?
A. Nearly 100 countries participate in the World Para Swimming games.
XB. World Para Swimming uses different rules than its Olympic counterpart.
C. World Para Swimming is only open to male and female athletes who are handicapped.

9. Here are some interesting facts about Argentina, except only one is correct. Which one?
A. Basketball is Argentina’s favorite sport.
B. Che Guevara admired Argentina but never visited.
XC. The name Argentina comes from the Latin word for silver – Argentum

10. Which of the following dates is the first documented account of using physical therapy as a medical treatment for pain?
A. 1740
B. 1920
XC. 460 B.C.

11. There are a lot of famous TV sheriffs. Here are three, but one isn’t famous, in fact, he never existed. I made him up. Which one is he?
XA. Johnson Mayhew, of Tulsa, Oklahoma
B. Andy Jackson Taylor of Mayberry, North Carolina
C. Seth Bullock of Deadwood, South Dakota

And the winners of signed books are…coming soon.

Sneak Peek #11 Especially for You!

 This is Day 11 of my Character Reveal series for my next book—title TBA soon. I’ll post a new character and a one-question T/F Quiz each Wednesday until I run out of characters. Those who comment most AND answer the most questions correctly will receive a signed book (bookplate sent separately) and a chance at 1 of 2 $10.00 Gift Certificates. NOTE THIS CHANGE: I started announcing winners at the end of each week, but that became tedious, so I’ll announce future winners toward the end of the Reveal. The books and the CG’s will be sent out upon publication. Sorry, but I can only send signed books to U.S. However, I can send an eBook to international winners.

To enter, leave a comment and type the answer to the quiz at the end of your comment (A, B, or C) I’ve left links to previous posts if you’re joining me late, so you can work your way back if you want to see the other posts and comment. Here’s last week’s POST.

Meet the Sheriff (Resized to 350)
Image credit  mattieb  on  Wunderstock  (license)

Sheriff Davidson’s daughter is a skier, so he’s keen on finding out who caused Libby’s accident that day at Blake’s Crossing, but there’s nothing to go on. Libby can’t remember anything beyond the collision, and nobody’s coming forward as a witness. Still, he’s determined to investigate.

This character is a slow, but sure kind of guy–old-school. He does his leg work and he’s not one to give up on what seems like a hopeless situation. He’s also a stickler for following the rules, and with Libby and Harley also tracking down clues, he gets a bit perturbed.

Quiz: There are a lot of famous TV sheriffs. Here are three, but one isn’t famous, in fact, he never existed. I made him up. Which one is he?
A. Johnson Mayhew, of Tulsa, Oklahoma
B. Andy Jackson Taylor of Mayberry, North Carolina
C. Seth Bullock of Deadwood, South Dakota

NEXT WEEK YOU’LL MEET LIBBY, THE LAST CHARACTER I’LL INTRODUCE, BUT THE CENTRAL ONE. AND I’LL POST THE QUIZZES WITH ALL THE ANSWERS. THE QUIZZES WERE JUST FOR FUN, BUT IF YOU TOOK THE TIME TO PLAY, I REALLY APPRECIATED IT, AND YOUR NAME WENT IN THE HAT FOR THE GIFT CERTIFICATE.

Against All Odds by Jacqui Murray

Xhosa’s extraordinary prehistoric saga concludes, filled with hardship, courage, survival, and family. 

A million years of evolution made Xhosa tough but was it enough? She and her People finally reach their destination—a glorious land of tall grasses, few predators, and an abundance that seems limitless, but an enemy greater than any they have met so far threatens to end their dreams. If Xhosa can’t stop this one, she and her People must again flee.

The Crossroads trilogy is set 850,000 years ago, a time in prehistory when man populated most of Eurasia. He was a violent species, fully capable of addressing the many hardships that threatened his survival except for one: future man, a smarter version of himself, one destined to obliterate all those who came before. 

From prehistoric fiction author Jacqui Murray comes the unforgettable saga of a courageous woman who questions assumptions, searches for truth, and does what she must despite daunting opposition. Read the final chapter of her search for freedom, safety, and a new home.

A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!

Chapter 1

The foothills of the Pyrenees

They came out of the mountains, hair frozen in sparkling strands, hands and feet wrapped in shredded pelts, ribs etched against their skin under ragged hides white with snow, faces haggard with fatigue. Blood crusted scrapes and gashes, many recent, others almost healed, reminders of the violent struggles endured on their journey.

Though their steps flagged, not one of these upright creatures exhibited a hint of defeat. All males and a few females carried at least one spear, some two, many with warclubs strapped to their backs. Despite the anxiety and fear of entering this foreign land, hope energized them today, that their migration might be at an end.

All of them—Xhosa and her tribe, Pan-do and his, Wind, Zvi, and Seeker—had been chased from their homes by enemies. In their flight, they found each other. It took time to work through their differences but now they traveled side by side, respected ideas not theirs, and called themselves the People.

Their charismatic Leaders—Xhosa, Wind, and Pan-do—were known as reliable friends to those who earned their trust and dangerous enemies to those who opposed them. Two wolves—Spirit and Black Wolf—journeyed with them. Though the People lacked the animals’ sharp claws, dense fur, and piercing teeth, each considered the other “pack” and would defend them to death.

The exhausted group straggled down the gently sloping flank, feet shuffling carefully over the slippery scree. The ground changed from talus to stunted tufts of grass, sparse and brown which made walking easier. Optimism shone from their faces even as their tired eyes flicked side to side in search of unexpected movement, ears strained for out-of-place noises, and noses sniffed.

Rather than continue across the meadow, Xhosa led the People into the shade of the edging forest.

“Do you smell it, Wind?” Anticipation filled her gestures.

She and Wind, pairmates as well as Co-Leaders, stood quietly, absorbing their surroundings. Light filtered lazily through the canopy, the shadowed ground dappled with patches of warmth. She sniffed in the essence of wet earth and rotting leaves, the mustiness of moss, and something else much more enticing. 

“It’s there.” She pointed and strode forward, lengthening her stride.

An icy gust whipped down the hillside through the shadows and raised bumps on her arms but she ignored it. The forest gave way to open sky and searing heat. It was too hot for her thin pelt but she didn’t stop to remove it. Green stalks swayed as far as she could see, edged on one side by more mountains and the other by some sort of leaves and branches. Sunlight glinted off the rippled surface of a distant river as it curled over the terrain.

“Dung!” The scent overpowered every other odor.

Wind huffed to her side. “It’s been a long time since we smelled dung that wasn’t frozen.”

“We did it, Wind.” Her eyes glistened with relief.

For most of a Moon, dread gnawed at her courage and left her wondering if following the guidance of Seeker—a boy barely a man—was a mistake. But Seeker assured her in his ebullient way that once out of the hills, their new homebase would welcome them. Xhosa wanted to believe him because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Nor did she know what to do if it didn’t work.

Wind motioned, arms inclusive, “It’s beautiful, Xhosa.”

Siri, Pan-do, Ngili, the wolves Spirit and Black Wolf, and the rest of the People gathered around Xhosa and Wind, eyes locked on what lay in front of them.

Pan-do whispered, “We made it.” His eyes were moist, mouth open.

Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, hands close to his body. “With all this grass, Gazelle or Mammoth must be nearby.”

Dust, the Lead Scout, trotted up, coming from a tall cliff far ahead on their forward path. “I think there are caves there.”

The People hadn’t slept in a cave since leaving Viper and the Mountain Dwellers. It would be a treat if true.

Xhosa looked behind. Shadows already stretched as far from the bottom of the rocky slopes as sunlight to the top. Daylight would soon end.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s rest and then see if those are caves.”

Ngili, the People’s Lead Hunter, motioned, fingers spaced out, palms up, “I’ll go with Dust to check.” He added a swift spread-fingered swipe with first one hand and then the other, followed by a quick bob of his head and a puff.

Xhosa brushed both hands down her sides. Go.

The People spoke with a complex combination of hand motions, facial expressions, body movements, and sounds augmented with chirrups, snaps, hisses, and whistles. By the time Ngili finished talking, Xhosa knew how many would join him, where they would go, and how long they’d be away. The People’s communication was sophisticated but quiet, a precaution especially in unfamiliar areas. Unusual sounds—voices, for example—stood out. All animals made noises but few as varied as the People’s. Why alert Others who lived here to their presence? Xhosa would do that in her own time, in her own way.

Dust, Ngili, and two scouts soon receded into the landscape, the only evidence of their passage a slight disturbance in the slender waving stalks. Despite the dung scents, the abundant plant food, and the glisten of a faraway river, Xhosa crossed her arms over her chest and paced.

Something is wrong. 

She searched the forests and the rippling field that had swallowed up Dust and Ngili . Xhosa possessed the ability to see great distances in sufficient detail to find trails, footprints, movement, or the glitter of sun off eyes.

She saw none of those and that made her more uncomfortable.

With this wealth of food and water, Others should be here.

Wind motioned, palms flattened against his chest, “The mountains we crossed touched Sun. They’re cold and barren. Few can do what we did to get here, Xhosa. We are safe.”

Xhosa could hear in his voice, see in his gestures, that despite his bravado, Wind too felt uneasy about what they didn’t see and hear.

But she grinned. “I don’t know how I survived without someone being able to read my thoughts.”

She trotted over to a stream that fed into the river she had noticed. She stretched out on her belly, flat on the soft grass at the water’s edge, and took a long, satisfying drink of the sweet liquid. Thirst quenched, she collected handfuls of the tender shoots of new plants growing along the shore, ate what she wanted and tossed the rest into a communal food pile that would be shared with all the People. It was already filling up with fat fish speared from the slow-moving pools beside the river, tasty reeds and cattails, and even a handful of eggs plucked from nests not hidden well enough along the shore and in the roots of trees. The wolves snapped birds from the air and swallowed them almost whole, coughing up feathers.

Xhosa leaned back on her hands, sniffing the unique fragrance of each groupmember. Zvi was sweaty from wrestling with Spirit. Siri smelled sourly of hunger but she wouldn’t eat until Honey’s bleeding foot was wrapped in mulch and leaves. The females with new babies exuded the pleasant aroma of milk. Some scents jumbled together making them impossible to identify. When Xhosa became Leader of the People, before it merged with Pan-do’s and Hawk’s, the People had been small enough that she could recognize everyone by their odor. Now, she kept track of her tribe while Pan-do did the same with his. Wind helped everyone.

Done eating, the People sprawled on the warm ground, soaking up Sun’s remaining rays, chatting contentedly with gestures and the occasional sigh. Water dripped from their thawing bodies, soaking into the thirsty ground, as the remaining ice and snow on their pelts and in their hair melted away.

Xhosa and Wind sat apart from the others, on a log long ago softened by rot. She uprooted handfuls of grass and wiped the sweat from Wind’s body, as he did hers. The soft scratch felt good and the earthy fragrance reminded her of times long gone. When he finished, she harvested chunks of green moss from the log’s decaying bark and stuffed them into her neck sack. All the People wore one of these around their necks. Even the wolves did when they were migrating.

Finished, she leaned against Wind and closed her eyes. In a group of Others, her pairmate stood out. A Big Head, the People’s traditional enemy, the ones who drove Xhosa and her tribe from their long-established home, Wind had earned Xhosa’s trust by saving her life more than once and then, as a member of her People, sharing Big Head spear tricks and warrior skills with her Leads. Before long, each of them individually told her that thanks to Wind they could now defeat an attack which they couldn’t have done in the past. Whatever distrust her People harbored toward him faded away.

“Xhosa!” Dust panted up to her. “I found a cave. And we found trace of a herd. Ngili is tracking it.”

By the time Sun settled into its night nest, the People were ensconced in the cave Dust found. They had to squeeze together to fit but all were thrilled to sleep without waking to frozen toes and numb fingers. Stone and Zvi—the burliest of the People—lugged rocks in and Siri built a fire that quickly warmed the interior. The subadults gathered kindling to feed it and arranged who would be responsible throughout the night for keeping it lit.

Usually, the wolves slept scattered among the People but with Black Wolf close to delivering her pups, she dug out an opening in the back and claimed it as her den. Then she settled to her belly, one leg forward, the other bent back, eyebrows twitching.

Xhosa strode toward the nest she would share with Wind but stopped at the sight of Seeker, weight on his bottom, legs crossed in front of his body in the uncomfortable position he preferred. His pairmate Lyta curled next to him with their best friend, Zvi.

Xhosa approached Seeker. “You are not outside.”

Every night as long as Xhosa could remember, the enigmatic male lay on his back, gaze fixed steadily on the star-dotted sky, spouting what to Xhosa sounded like gibberish to whoever listened. Intermittently, he leapt to his feet and spun dizzying circles or bounced from one foot to the other, huffing and chirping. Lyta and Zvi would either join him or watch. He once explained to Xhosa that this was how he studied the changes in the night sky—the appearance and disappearance of particular stars or their movement in relation to each other—so he could guide the People accurately. This nightly process was how they had moved from the distant start of Endless Pond to this cave where Endless Pond seemed to end.

He didn’t respond to her statement, didn’t even acknowledge her. That worried Xhosa. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that danger lurked around them, somewhere. Seeker’s anxious look didn’t help.

She squatted at his side and added a question to her declaration. “The stars aren’t talking to you?”

To the side, Lyta wriggled, not comfortable in the seated position Seeker preferred but determined to try because Seeker liked it so much. Zvi crouched on the balls of her feet, the more traditional pose. She’d tried to sit on her bottom, legs crossed in front, but kept falling backward. Besides, it took her too long to rise from that position which meant if Lyta needed help, she couldn’t respond quickly. Squatting, for her, made more sense. Seeker didn’t care. He expected all to do what worked for them. Both his best friend and his future pairmate were long accustomed to his eccentricities.

Finally, Seeker offered Xhosa only a confused frown.

That’s not a “Yes they are,” and that raised the hair on her neck. Before she could ask more, Ngili scrambled through the thistle barrier the youngsters had placed around the cave’s mouth to prevent the entrance of intruders and hurried toward Xhosa.

He motioned, “I lost the herd’s trace in the dark. I’ll try again tomorrow,” and then raced toward where the hunters had gathered. They were all tired. Some would mate before sleeping but not Ngili. He hadn’t given up hope that his pairmate, Hecate, would come back.

After a final glance at Seeker, Xhosa joined Wind in their nest. She squatted behind him and teased the dirt and debris from his long head hair, occasionally focusing on a difficult tangle until her fingers could move easily through his hair. When she finished, he did the same for her.

As he groomed, he said, “I’ll join Ngili tomorrow. If there are herds, we will find them.”

“Pan-do and I will continue with the People.”

They said nothing more, both enjoying the calming feel of nails scratching on their skin and the intimacy of someone they trusted implicitly. Done, both fell asleep.

The first rays of daylight filtered into the cave. Black Wolf was already outside, padding back and forth restlessly, huffing uncomfortably. Wind left with Ngili and a handful of scouts, knowing Xhosa would leave a trail to wherever they settled when Sun’s light ran out. Though Spirit usually went with the hunters, today he stayed with Black Wolf.

Xhosa and Pan-do led. Dust copied their pace and direction but a distance away. With Ngili and Wind searching for meat, Xhosa focused on finding a cave large enough for the People. They strode onward, gaze sweeping the landscape, everyone grazing on berries, roots, and worms as they walked. Sporadically, Xhosa heard a faraway squawk or glimpsed a covey of birds as they exploded into flight, fleeing an unknown threat. It was the direction Ngili and Wind had gone, and told her how far they’d gotten.

The People rested by a waterhole. They searched its shoreline for prints but found none. Wherever the herds lived, they didn’t drink here so the People moved on, through copses of young saplings and around a bed of haphazardly-strewn boulders. The air tasted of flowers, warm earth, and the mild tang of salt, but the dung they found was hard and old.

Xhosa touched Pan-do’s hand and both stopped, eyes forward. “Do you smell that? It reminds me of Endless Pond.”

He pointed to his strong side and the direction they were walking. “From there and there. How can it be on two sides?”

Xhosa tingled. One of her People—Rainbow—had abandoned them long ago, taking many males and females with him. Others she and her People ran into while migrating here told her Rainbow traveled the same route she did but along the opposite shore of Endless Pond. For him, as for her, this was as far as he could go without folding back on himself.

If they got this far. If any survived.

She pushed aside those thoughts. Before searching for whatever remnants remained of Rainbow’s group, the People must find a homebase. All they suffered to get here—the interminable walking, the loss of Hawk, the death of groupmembers, Nightshade’s treachery—was for naught if they didn’t establish a home.

Spirit bumped her leg. Black Wolf panted at her mate’s side, her belly almost touching the ground.

Xhosa motioned, “Your mate’s pups won’t wait much longer. We will find a den for her.”

Spirit took off, his movements graceful and fluid with Black Wolf lumbering after him.

Not much later, Pan-do squinted ahead. “I think Spirit found a cave.”

Xhosa leaned forward, narrowing her gaze, and finally saw where Spirit stopped. He sat on his haunches at the base of a cliff, facing her, nose twitching, tail swishing the dirt behind him.

It took the rest of the day to cross over the craggy scrubland, up and down the deep ravines, and around the occasional spot of slippery ice. The cave proved too small for the People but not for Black Wolf’s needs. With much scuffling and panting, she created a nest for her pups and disappeared into the cool dark hole. The People settled outside, under an overhang that would protect them from rain and predators, and far enough away to not bother the new mother. As soon as Ngili and Wind arrived, shaking their heads that they hadn’t found a herd, they left again to search for signs of a trail left by former inhabitants of this cave.

Xhosa’s chest squeezed and her stomach knotted. Spirit padded up to her side, hackles puffed, nostrils flaring. He agreed. Something about this area made her tingle but for now, until Black Wolf finished, they must stay.

The Author Answers Some Questions

Spoiler alert: What star guided Seeker from the Iberian Peninsula to the British Isles?

The enormously bright star Venus is located directly above the horizon. This likely is what caught Seeker’s attention, especially during this time of year. What he called a herd of stampeding stars was a meteor shower. He had seen what we today term “shooting stars” at times before in his life but not in this quantity and longevity. To him, it became a sign directing them to their next new home.

You used “said”—I thought they didn’t speak.

In this trilogy, “said” is generic for communicating. It could be verbal but is more likely to be gestures, body language, or facial expressions. I also often use “motioned” and “gestured” to indicate hand signals that communicate their words.

Their speech is too erudite.

As a species, Homo erectus lasted far longer than any other Homo species for a reason: They were not only highly intelligent for the day but made use of rich communication skills. Their sophisticated tools, especially the symmetry of the hand-axe, suggests to many scientists that they could use sophisticated communication. Because the capacity to “speak” with voices remains a hotly-debated topic, with opinions divided on whether the “speech” part of their brain—that allowed them to speak—was evolved enough for verbal words, I present communication often as body language with limited speech.

Book information:

Title and author: Against All Odds
Series: Book 3 in the Crossroads series
Genre: Prehistoric fiction
Available digitally (print soon) at: Kindle US   Kindle UK   Kindle CA   Kindle AU

Jacqui Murray

Author bio:

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers, and the Man vs. Nature saga. She is also adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an Amazon Vine Voice,  a columnist for  NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Laws of Nature, Book 2 in the Dawn of Humanity trilogy, Winter 2021. 

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Sneak Peek #10 Especially for You!

This is Day X of my Character Reveal series for my next book—title TBA soon. I’ll post a new character and a one-question T/F Quiz each Wednesday until I run out of characters. Those who comment most AND answer the most questions correctly will receive a signed book (bookplate sent separately) and a chance at 1 of 2 $10.00 Gift Certificates. NOTE THIS CHANGE: I started announcing winners at the end of each week, but that became tedious, so I’ll announce future winners toward the end of the Reveal. The books and the CG’s will be sent out upon publication. Sorry, but I can only send signed books to U.S. However, I can send an eBook to international winners.

To enter, leave a comment and type the answer to the quiz at the end of your comment (A, B, or C) I’ve left links to previous posts if you’re joining me late, so you can work your way back if you want to see the other posts and comment. Here’s last week’s POST.

Meet Liam Image
(Resized to 350) credit  UHartfordCollegeofENHP  on  Wunderstock  (license)

Liam is a minor character, but he plays an important part in the story as a physical therapist. His role is to help Javier and Harley through their rehab. Javier needs to toss those crutches and return to Argentina to help his mother with the ranch, and Harley has to qualify for the U. S. Para Swim team. While Liam’s a shadowy character, I think you’ll admire him for his skill and his patience. He’s also darned persistent when it comes to Harley in the romance department. The question until the end is “Will he win her heart?”

I’m a believer in the power of physical therapy, having had a couple of injuries that gave me two options, surgery or some regular exercise and treatment under the guidance of a physical therapist. That was a no-brainer choice for me. I’ve never regretted spending the time in rehab, and I have such admiration for those therapists. Liam had to be a part of this story.

Quiz: Which of the following dates is the first documented account of using physical therapy as a medical treatment for pain?
A. 1740
B. 1920
C. 460 B.C.