Rani Divine's Blog, page 40

Stop #2, Part 2

Dublin is a lot of fun. Seriously. We haven't had time to go outside the city since we've been here, and we haven't wanted to. There's just so much to do and see in the city itself, and we haven't even finished it all. Unfortunately, we leave here soon... but the adventure continues, and that's the fun part!

We've determined by now that we've walked at least four miles a day since we've been here. Probably much more than that, but in being conservative I'll say about four miles. (I'd really like to say it's between six and seven...). That said, if you're planning on coming here and you're not much of a walker, you should look into the hop on hop off bus tours. They look really nice, though we haven't needed them thus far.

The morning of day three in Dublin (day five overall), we'd already mapped out what we wanted to do for the day. Sort of. We knew approximately what we wanted to do, and we'd looked at the approximate locations of everything to make sure that it could all be done in one day. We thought it was a bit much, but doable. Our plan was to go back to Dublin Castle for some more pictures, go to Christchurch Cathedral, and to the Guinness Storehouse (if you've been watching my Facebook and Instagram, you'll already know we went there). Of course, things don't always go to plan.

We left that morning feeling pleased with ourselves that for once we knew what we wanted to do that day and had somewhat learned how to use an umbrella (as it was still raining from the night before), and headed off in the general direction of Christchurch. Actually, we looked up over the buildings and saw a spire, which we assumed was Christchurch. And headed off in its direction, hoping we were right. We weren't. I'm not actually sure where we ended up, but we took pictures of it!

As a sidebar, I hadn't realized just how difficult it is to take pictures while you're holding an umbrella. It's like a juggling act, and you're always struggling not to get the umbrella in any of the shots. I hope I got a few good pictures to share with all of you, but I also hope you'll excuse the edge of an umbrella in some pictures. Maybe I'll edit that out. We'll see how long it takes me to get the pictures up.

Eventually, we found ourselves at Christchurch, neither of us really knowing anything about the cathedral, but both of us wanting to see it for ourselves. And I'll tell you, it really is a sight to see. From what I understand, it's the oldest cathedral in Ireland. Don't quote me on that: I haven't had the energy to look it up and find out for sure, but I'm pretty sure I heard that while we were there. We took a mass of pictures, including selfies, and were generally just a smidge louder than I felt we were supposed to be, but I got the giggles! It happens. I flung my umbrella in the crypt. What else was I supposed to do?

From there, we walked. And walked. Do you sense a recurring theme here? I think we've walked more than we've done anything else in Dublin, and honestly, we've had a very good time of it. Our feet might not agree with that statement, but for the past few months we've been working on walking more, being more active, and making sure we'd be ready for this to happen -- because we knew from the start that Dublin would be all about walking. As will one of our later cities, more than likely, which you'll find out when we get there. ;-)

When we'd finished at Christchurch, we made our way back to Dublin Castle. We'd talked about going inside, about doing a tour of the grounds and the gardens, but we ended up deciding against it. See, castles are one of Mum's things. She just really likes them. But our family tends to lean more toward extravagence than age, and Dublin Castle looks more old and historical than it does lush and lavish. So we took a few more pictures and moved on.

Trouble was, it was still early in the day, and we didn't want to go to the Guinness Storehouse (the last thing on our list) so early in the day. We knew the tour came with a pint of beer, and we really didn't want it until later in the day, closer to evening. You know how it is. It may be five-o-clock somewhere, but our tummies just weren't having it at that moment. Instead, we walked alllllllllll the way down to Trinity College.

Another sidenote, of something I'd like to set straight here and now. Mum and I looked at a map on the side of the road all of one time before we made our way to the college. That's right. One look, no more than a minute and a half. We figured out what street we needed to get to, a landmark that might be useful, and we did it. We made it to Trinity College off only one look at a map. I think I may need to give myself another high five for that one.

Trinity College is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It'd be a great place to go to school, I'll tell you. The grounds are lovely, the students seemed like a lot of fun, and you can even get them to be your tour guides. A lot of fun. We didn't do any of that.

Now, let me explain something. Me being a writer and all, you might assume that I'd want to go inside the library and spend hours staring at the books, that I'd just want to be in the presence of them and see them with my own eyes. I didn't. I really just, didn't. All I wanted was to see the grounds, to look at the gardens and take some pictures of the buildings. Being on a school campus just makes me want to get off the school campus, library or not. It's a biproduct of spending so much time in school. I'm trying to get over it, don't worry.

Needless to say at this point, we didn't stay long at Trinity, either.

As any good traveler should, Mum and I researched the locations we were going to, before we left the States. In doing so, we found a few places in each of those locations, where we might want to do for lunch, dinner, or pastries of some sort. One of those places was Queen of Tarts, which we'd just so happend to stumble upon in our hunt for Christchurch, earlier in the day. So at this point, we went back the way we'd came, up the windy cobblestone streets (ladies, do not, I repeat, DO NOT wear heels in Dublin), until we reached the quaint little restaurant.

I know I keep talking about the food. I know it. But I don't care. The food is so flinging flanging delicious that you really should go to Dublin and try all of it. Some of the restaurants have Irish feasts on their menus -- you could even try something like that. We haven't been hungry enough for them, but we've eaten as much as we can stomach.

Queen of Tarts had some of the best food we ate in Dublin. No lie. It's amazing. We ordered potato cakes with leeks and bacon, topped with a poached egg and served with roasted cherry tomatoes, and a savory scone filled with sundried tomatoes, poppyseeds, feta cheese, and chives. It. Was. Delicious. All of it. We snarfed it. We considered ordering seconds, but ended up with a macaron instead, which was just as delicious and the perfect little bite of sweet to end the luncheon.

Seriously, and I do mean seriously, you have to go to Queen of Tarts if you're ever in Dublin.

After a quick stop at the apartment to freshen up and prepare ourselves for what was about to come, we left for the Guinness Storehouse.

That's right folks. The Guinness Storehouse.

By the time we got there, a line had already amassed and we found ourselves wondering if this was a good idea at all. We could've gotten tickets online ahead of time, but we weren't sure that was something we'd wanted to do either, and so here we were. Fortunately, they have a pretty smoothly operating system, and we were in pretty quickly. Unfortunately, with that many people inside, it was a little difficult to enjoy.

I'm going to be honest with you now. Completely frank, completely honest. The main bulk of the tour isn't very fun. There's loads of information written on the walls and playing in videos next to replicas of machines, but it's hard to read or watch any of it with so many people around, and it's hard to know where you're supposed to be at any given time. In all honesty, the thing that makes it is that after the main tour itself, you get to pour your own perfect pint. They teach you how to properly pour it, in all 199.5 seconds of its glory, and at the end you get to drink the pint that you poured. So really, you're paying twenty euros to tramp around in confusion, and then have a pint of beer (which you can take up to the gravity bar, where you can see all around Dublin). On the even brighter side, Guinness tastes VERY good in Dublin. I mean, VERY good. I don't like Guinness in the States. I do in Dublin. It tastes different, and different is delicious.

After the Storehouse, we figured we should probably eat something. And (honesty again) we were tired of crowds. But this was Saturday night, and there would be no avoiding a crowd. Much wandering and meandering later, we put our names in at a place called Elephant & Castle, and waited. We walked around the Temple Bar area for about half an hour in the chilly evening air, glad that for once it wasn't raining, and determined that we now know this area extremely well. Temple Bar area is very easy to navigate.

Another sidenote: if you're ever in Europe and you see street performers, stop and listen/watch them. While we were waiting for our table, we came across a group that played some of the coolest Irish music I've heard while I've been out here, and it was honestly difficult to tear myself away. A lot of them have been that way. Lots of talents on these streets!

In getting back to the food, Elephant & Castle is great, even if you have to wait.

In a later Googling, we found out that they're not Irish... But we really didn't care at that point. It just looked cute, and we were hungry, so we ate there. We ordered a charcuterie plate (which we devoured shortly after its arrival) and a plate of lamb with horseradish potatoes and asparagus spears (which was the best lamb I've had in my life and cooked to utter perfection). Follow that up with a bowl of chocolate ice cream doused in chocolate liquor and covered in toasted hazelnuts, and you get a very happy Rani and Mum.

The walk home was cold and a little brisker than usual, if only to avoid the drinking crowds.

The next day, we didn't have much on our list... because we'd done it all the day before. Which was nice, because our feet REALLY wanted a break by now. Did they get one? ...no. But they wanted one.

Our hosts in Dublin were kind enough to give us breakfast every morning, but that day was the best of them all. Apparently, the bakery where our host had been picking up pastries for our breakfasts didn't bake as early on Sundays, so instead he picked up a delicious carrot cake, set out meats, cheeses, and bread, and made us tea and coffee. If I could choose my ideal breakfast, that would be it. It hit the spot in every possible way, and totally prepared us for a very nice and relaxing day.

For our final full day in Dublin, we wanted to take it easy more than we'd done the prior days. No point in going full speed the whole time and burning out early, eh?

The first order of business was to figure out how we were going to get back to the Dublin airport for our way out of town the next day. We knew what bus we had to get on, but we weren't sure where we needed to catch it from or what we needed to do. Our host seemed to think there was a bus stop about five minutes away, but we wanted to be sure, so we checked. We're glad we did -- it was about twenty-five minutes from the apartment. That would be fun, first thing in the morning, while lugging fifty pounds of luggage... Sarcasm.

From there, we decided to make our way to St. Stephen's Green, and the best and easiest method seemed to be Grafton Street, once again. We picked up some chocolates on our way, because, you know, chocolate. I'm not positive what the place was called, but they had these super yummy dark chocolate mango truffles... We could've eaten a whole pack of those, and nothing but those.

Grafton is a walking street, where no cars encroach upon the people who pack the street and duck in and out of shops, interspersed with various street musicians playing all sorts of lovely music. It was great fun, and the street just so happend to end right at the corner of the Green.

St. Stephen's Green is by far the prettiest place we went to in Dublin. I swear, we had our cameras out the entire time and did not stop taking pictures. Also, having chocolates to pass the time was a very blissful and relaxing experience.

Our intention was to sit in the park and hang out, watch the ducks and the "funny-looking ducks" (otherwise known as "seagulls"), and not move. But the park was just too pretty, and there were too many things to see! We walked through most of it, taking pictures the whole way, and hardly stopping to give our tired feet a break. The next day we were leaving -- we had to see it all while we could! To stretch out the time some more, we eventually went to a coffee shop just across the street and picked up a sandwich and some chips to eat in the park, which was also a lot of fun. Our first park picnic outside the States!

A few days before, we'd been to a souvenir shop. I think I mentioned that. If I didn't, then you're finding out now! Anyway, while we were there, Mum had looked at a ring and a pretty plate that she was thinking about getting, and we decided at this point that we should go back and look for them again. Only we tried at several different locations of the same store. Several, several locations. Oy, so many of them. I bought a couple things for myself, and eventually we found what she was looking for. The ring really is lovely, and the plate is cute. And along the way, me being me, I bought a pair of shoes. If you know anything about me at all, then you know how much I like my shoes. I was fully prepared to come home from this trip with at least one new pair of shoes. Because of that, we had to stop by the apartment before we could go anywhere else. Who wants to walk around carrying a bunch of shopping bags? Not me.

The next stop was St. Patrick's Cathedral. I'd never been to any Catholic services before, but I'd heard that the Evensong services are the prettiest, and that they're a good way to get to see cathedrals without having to pay. So we went.

The trouble with Catholic services, when you have tired feet, is that there's a lot of sit-stand-sit-stand, which makes your feet go ahh-grr-ahh-grr, and confuses the rest of your body. But the choir really was lovely, as was the organ, and although the message wasn't really a message at all and didn't really make any sense, we generally enjoyed ourselves. We also took some pictures outside, since you can't photograph inside during services.

By the time the service ended, it was nearing half-past four. Not exactly dinner time, but when you have an early morning coming up, you do what you have to do. We ate dinner at Quay's, which we'd been walking past off and on for days at this point.

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: you have to eat everything while you're in Ireland. Just do it. I don't care if you're hungry. Eat it and walk it off.
We ordered crispy toasted garlic bread and cheese with rocket and garlic dip (yum!) to split, and Dublin coddle for dinner. I know, I just said to eat everything, but you can split things. That's allowed. As long as you eat it. Both were absolutely delicious and you should go to Dublin and order them immediately. Dublin coddle is basically bangers and mash over stew, and it's just as good as it sounds. Also, people are really nice if you want to split a dish. They'll even bring you extra plates, automatically! It's great!

Now. I got this beer. Hop House 13, from the Guinness family. It's a slightly lighter ale. And it's amazing. I couldn't quite place what it reminded me of, what flavors I was picking up, but it went marvelously with dinner and I'll be looking for a six pack of it once we get back to the States. If you can find it, buy it. You won't regret it.

Essentially, Dublin was all about eating and walking. And learning to use an umbrella. The next stop is all about learning an entirely different sort of skill.

I bet you already know where it is.

[love]

{Rani Divine}

Stop #2, Part 1

[Rule #1: this is going to be long, and you're not going to care. Rule #2: I'm not going to proofread, and you're not going to care. There are better ways to spend my time abroad than making sure I used the right form of "your" ;-)]

The next leg of our tour, I have dubbed as follows:

A New Mexican Meets an Umbrella

Why? Because we're in Dublin, Ireland, and it's been raining.

But let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Back in Keflavik, our hosts were awesome. I mean, freaking awesome. I'd highly recommend any of you to stay with them, because they're great. We stayed up far later than we should've done, just by talking to them. They were going to go out and take pictures of Aurora Borealis, and we REALLY wanted to go with them, but our flight out in the morning was far earlier than we liked to admit. But our hosts were nice enough to call ahead and get a taxi for us, since we had no idea how to go about doing that. Before Iceland, I'd never taken a taxi in my life. I've now taken two. I digress.

The Keflavik airport suggested being two and half hours early for our flight, so like the newbies we are, we listened to it. Don't do that. Seriously, don't do it. Especially if your flight leaves at 6:20 in the morning. Yeah. We left our host's house at 3:50 in the morning, and it sucked. We did not sleep that night. My best estimation is that I slept for two hours, but I reall don't know. Every time I closed my eyes I found them snapping back open, just in case I might miss my alarm. The moral of that story is: don't listen to the airline's website. Also, Keflavik Airport didn't open our section of the terminal until an hour before our flight was supposed to take off, so we ended up sitting around for an inordinate amount of time. On the bright side, it gave us plenty of time to research our destination and figure out how we were going to get from Dublin Airport into the city itself.

If I had to give a review of Wow Air, it would be that they really need to learn to better communicate with the people taking their flights. Our flight out of Keflavik was delayed, though they told none of us anything about it. Apparently they had some unscheduled maintenance that needed to be done on the plane. None of us would've complained about that. Seriously. Please make sure my plane is in working order before I get on it. Please. Anyway, they didn't tell us anything of what was going on, and we all stood in line for a very long time waiting to get on the plane. I was so exhausted that I actually have no idea what time we got on the plane. All I really know is that I had a hard time sleeping there, too. *sigh*

I didn't sleep on the plane, try as I might. My head kept bobbing. Not cool, head. Not cool. But the flight was really very decent. Wow is annoying in that they make you pay for every little extra thing. There are bag fees, seat fees, and fees for things I didn't even think there could be fees for, and they push products during the flight, but the flight itself was actually pretty great. Especially for the price, even with the extra fees, I'd recommend it. Just be sure to pay ahead for your bags, to cut down on some costs.

After a fitful hour of head bobbing, we landed in Dublin. Mum's first phrase upon our arrival? "Oh look! Cows!"

To which I chuckled. The cows didn't seem to mind being so close to the airport.

Getting through customs was a breeze. I think they looked at the two of us and thought we were just two more American tourists here for the weekend. Which was what we were. So they were right. We easily retrieved our bags, made a quick pit stop, and headed outside. Since we'd handily figured out what bus we wanted to get on ahead of time, we had an approximation of where we were going. So we bought two way tickets at a kiosk and boarded a bus into the city.

I should mention that this time we were well aware that we would have a jaunt to our host's house. We knew it. So we had time to prepare. We haven't gotten lost yet, for which I'm quite pleased! Having a river in the middle of the city helps keep things nice and organized. Find the Liffey, and you'll easily figure out where you are.

I've digressed again, haven't I?

We had a twenty minute walk from the bus stop to our host's house. That meant another twenty minutes pushing a bag and lugging a purse and a carry-on. It wasn't half bad though, aside from the surprisingly chilly wind that kept trying to push us the other way. I swear, my left hand was not strong enough to push a suitcase for very long. (Another side note: if you have a walk like this, and your suitcase is on wheels, you should push it on all four wheels. Pulling it expends a lot more energy and tires you out faster, while pushing it is as easily as pushing a cart around the store).

Twenty long minutes later, we reached the apartment. Only our host wasn't home. The janitor let us into the building and the cleaning lady let us into the apartment, only to tell us that our host was in the hospital. Neither of us had any idea what to do. Seriously. What do you do if you're staying at someone's house, someone who you've never met, and they're in the hospital? Plus, we had no idea why he was in the hospital. There wasn't much we could do, but we hadn't eaten yet, so we quickly cooled off (a twenty minute walk is enough to turn an icy breeze into a sauna) and went out for lunch (it was two in the afternoon, but we realized that we hadn't yet eaten or drank anything all day long). I messaged our host on the Airbnb app and let him know we'd gone out and taken the key from the cleaning lady, noting that we really had no idea how to get back in the building, since it was the janitor who'd let us in in the first place.

We walked down the stairs, and as the door closed behind us and we looked out the window, we realized it was raining. And we'd left our umbrellas on the bed upstairs. The bed that we didn't know how to get to, because all we had was a key, and we needed a fob in order to get the front door to open.

Well, crap.

Not much we could do about it, and it looked like it was only drizzling, so we put our hoods up and went outside.

Now, being from New Mexico, neither of us are used to seeing a lot of rain. Any rain that lasts more than ten or fifteen minutes is a lot of rain, for us. So when it sputtered, started and stopped, went between drizzling and pouring, it seemed a normal thing. And we soon found ourselves walking along the Liffey, taking in the sights, and forgetting about our hunger. Only to have it rear its head when we read a sign for Guinness stew. Yummmmm... Except it seemed that was what everyone was serving. So it took us a while to find a pub we wanted to go to, and eventually we ended up at a place called Fitzsimons. We each ordered our own beer and a bowl of stew, mine Irish, Mum's Guinness.

Stew in Ireland is not like the stew I make at home. I'm used to soup being runny and stew being thicker and creamier. Stew here is like a soup with giant pieces of stuff in it. I had a piece of celery in mine that was as long as my thumb -- and I have long thumbs. But oh my dear goodness gracious was it delicious. Especially on an empty stomach. Only trouble was, that stomach hadn't eaten anything in such a long time that it'd shrunken, and they served us portions worthy of a lumberjack during logging season. I'm a tiny little woman. I couldn't have eaten that much on a good day.

As for the food, I'll just say this: get it. Eat food in Ireland. I've not had anything that wasn't absolutely delicious. And I'm a bit finicky with my food. I know what's good. Trust me. Eat in Ireland.

While we were there, our host thankfully messaged me back and let us know how to get back into his apartment, and informed us that he was okay. He'd injured his leg on a run, and had to see a doctor to make sure everything was okay. *whew* We could get back to our bags!

After having to hang out in the pub an extra half hour or so just to have enough room to finish our beers, we decided that from here on out we should just split something and order something else if we're still hungry, and we proceeded to continue exploring. And in our exploring we realized we were in the Temple Bar area. Oh, and a little thing called Dublin Freaking Castle! (I may have adding the "freaking" part myself). Mum's been wanting to see castles for eons, so we had to go in. She tried to look like she didn't want to right away, but I knew we had to. Like a good daughter, I ushered her into the courtyard. It's beautiful. Seriously. I have pictures, but they don't do it justice. At all. It's beautiful, and if you're ever in Dublin, you should go see it. Definitely.
When we finally tore ourselves away, we wanted to go to bed. But it wasn't late in the day, and we knew we'd likely be hungry again later. Logically, we went to the only light food that could possibly serve as an alternative to an actual dinner:

Pastries.

We found this cute little place called KC Peaches, which I thought was cute because Dad calls Mum KC all the time. We're not entirely sure why, but he does. So we went in and got a slice of chocolate pear tart and another of this chocolate ganache mousse crisp rice light sponge cake thing that looked so amazing we couldn't help but get it. We ordered them to go, along with a cup of coffee for Mum and another of chai for me, and started the trek home.

It rained again.

We thought it might stop, so we went on. But it just kept raining. And raining. And the poor paper bag holding our pastries was ripped from the wetness, and our hoods were soaked through (because, of course, our umbrellas were still back at the apartment), and our pants were covered in dark speckles and our hair was blown to high heaven and dampened by heavy rains. By the time we made it back, all we wanted to do was get out of those clothes. We hung up our things, put on our pajamas, stole some forks from our host's kitchen, and ate our pastries on our bed.

Especially after being caught in the rain, those things were the most delicious treats I could've possibly tasted. The pear tart only had the sweetness of the pears, paired with the bitterness of chocolate and buttery tart crust beneath. But the cake! Oh, the cake... I know a lot of Americans like sweet foods. The more sugar, the better. I'm not one of those. I like sweets, but in moderation. I'd rather have something delicious and slightly sweet, light enough that I feel like I can still stand, and that was exactly what this cake was. Layers of the lightest white cake you've ever tasted with chocolate mousse and chocolate covered crisped rice in between and chocolate ganache and toasted coconut on the outside... I could've eaten the whole piece myself, but I was nice and shared. :)

The rest of our first night was spent laying in bed reading, getting a phone call from family back home, and charging every electronic device we brought with us. And then it was off to blissful sleep.

Day two in Dublin started more slowly, blessedly. We even woke up late. It took us nearly two hours to get ready, and when we finally left our room, our host was waiting for us with pastries on the table. He hobbled to the kitchen (which we told him he really didn't have to do) and make us a cup of coffee and tea (Mum says his coffee is the best in Ireland). He sat down with us while we ate, and we talked about our plans for the trip, before the two of us finally made our way outside, this time with umbrellas in our purses.

Now, something I should mention, is that the day before, while we were on the bus from the airport, they were playing a video about all the different bus tours you can take in Dublin. And they played one that looked like a lot of fun, called the 1916 tour. Mum and I don't know that much about Ireland, and we really wanted to get to know as much as we could. This tour was historical, talking about the revolution, and so when we left the apartment we went in search of where we could take this tour.

We took our time finding the place. The Liffey is so pretty, as are many of the buildings that line it. We stopped many times along the way to take pictures (don't worry, I'll post them en masse as soon as I can) before we finally reached a vistor's centre. The lady inside pointed us in the right direction, we went to the bus station and purchased our tickets, and had a couple of hours before the tour began.

Once again, we walked. Up and down O'Connell Street, along the Liffey, across any cool looking bridge we happened upon, all while trying to remember that traffic is backward in this country. Look left, not right. Left, not right. It's only just starting to settle in my head! Like the good little tourists we are, we found a souvenir shop and got some things for ourselves and some friends and family (something we had sadly not had time for in Iceland), and meandered through various streets until we felt certain that our feet could use a rest. Please.

When we had less than half an hour before the tour, we stopped for fish and chips. Grease has never tasted so delicious (aside from a need for salt, which I've noticed in all of their food, but could just be a matter of taste). We snarfed it and went straight across the street to the bus stop.

The 1916 tour is a dramatic performance on a bus. There are two actors, one male and one female, who play four characters each in order to depict the happenings of the Irish Revolution. It was utterly fascinating. They explained how the revolution began, things that were done in it and what went on around it. They depicted soldiers and women who assisted them, all fighting for the cause of Ireland's freedom. I felt like it was a much better way to go about explaining everything, rather than just telling us. Everything sat with me, and really still has. I would go on it again, on another trip, if the opportunity arose. I enjoyed it that much.

Remember to tip! We did, thankfully, before we got off the bus. The performance was spectacular.

Afterward, we went back to what we'd done the rest of the day: we walked. This time, down Henry St. It's a street that's just for people, filled with shops and a few eateries, along with various street performers. We walked up it and down it, and ended up at a chocolate shop, where we picked out the four kinds that sounded best and continued our walk.

I have never had a mango chocolate so delicious in my life. Seriously, you have to eat everything in Ireland. Maybe my stomach is growing back to normal size by now.

Walking, walking, walking.

Raining, raining, raining harder... Umbrellas?

Being from New Mexico, our instinct is not to use them. See, in NM, when it rains, it's only going to rain for a little while. In Dublin, apparently, that's not the case. I put my hood up. Mum caved first and got out her umbrella. Eventually, I did the same.

The rain got to our heads, both figuratively and literlly. We walked around in a fit of confusion, not quite knowing where to go or what to do in this weather. We tried ducking into stores, only to find that they were already packed full. We walked on the streets, but it was hard to stand close enough to hear each other while we each held an umbrella. *sigh* I don't think New Mexicans are meant to carry these things. They're a nuisance, aren't they? But I suppose they do the job.

It was a little early for dinner, even though there was nowhere else to go, and after a quick stop for some chai and coffee and looking at more menus than I care to remember, we ducked out of the rain into a restaurant for which we hadn't read the menu. What can we say? It looked cute.

If you've never had a boxty, you really should. They're delicious. And if you've never had a charcuterie plate, you really should. They're fun and delicious. We had both, along with a beer flight to share. Seriously, I'm going to say it again, eat food everything in Ireland. Bring an extra stomach if you have one. Mum says, "If you don't, buy one while you're there." Dinner was followed by Irish Whiskey for Mum and something called A Perfect Ending for me, which our waiter kept calling a happy ending and saying he shouldn't say that. Either way, it was delicious and our waiter was a lot of fun. Gallaghers Boxty House was the name, and you should go there if you're ever in the area. Deliciousness all around!

We walked home in the dark, in the rain. Not something two New Mexican women are used to doing. Ever. For one, we don't walk home alone at night. For two, we don't walk in the rain. That night, we did both.

I'll say this though, the streets of Dublin feel very safe. I didn't once feel strange or remotely nervous. It's a very walkable city, and the people are very friendly.
I'll say this too, just for giggles: walking home in the rain, while having badly to use the restroom, will make you walk ten times faster.

[love]

{Rani D.}

Stop #1

This will be long. I'm not sorry about that. It's stop one on our trip, my Mum and I, and as promised, I'm sharing it with you.

No pictures for you yet, but I'll try to get some up on the next leg of the trip, and I'll keep posting on Instagram. If you haven't followed me yet, go do it! I'm Rani.Divine -- and I've been posting whenever I remember to do so.

[note: I'm not going to proofread, and you're not going to care. Okay? Okay.]

The trip started in Texas. We drove all the way to Fort Worth on Friday, the 23rd, and spent all day Saturday shopping and sightseeing around Grapevine, downtown Fort Worth, and the Galleria in Dallas. But Sunday was the greatest day of them all, on that leg of the trip. Sunday we went to church at Eagle Mountain International Church, a part of Kenneth Copeland Ministries. They had a pastor named Billy Burke teaching that morning, and again that evening -- and we all wanted to go. He's a healing teacher, and his services are filled with moves of the Holy Spirit. Boy did we see some. After hours and hours in church, worshipping the Lord, listening to teachings from Billy and Pastors George and Terry Pearsons, we witnessed miracles. I watched a woman with Parkinson's be healed, her hands suddenly still in the presence of the Lord. A boy whose hips had been damaged, and who hadn't been able to run without severe pain, was suddenly running back and forth across the stage. A woman with memory loss began to remember. A man with a growth in under his arm announced that it'd vanished. Women were healed of breast cancer. Men freed from demons. Children set free. Everywhere I looked, people were receiving their healing. The Lord gave, and they received without question. We all witnessed the beauty of it, the passion, the love of the Lord poured down upon His children. And it was a beautiful sight to behold.

It was also the perfect beginning to a trip unlike any I'd ever been on before.

Until that day, I'd never been to a healing service. I'd never seen miracles taking place before my eyes. And until now, I'd never been out of the country. How awesome is it, how great is the Lord, that I get to do both in one trip?

Monday, the 26th, we left the country. Dad drove me and Mum to DFW airport, watched while we got checked in and checked our luggage, and said a heartfelt goodbye when we made our way through security. He stayed with us the whole time, the watchful eyes of my Daddy on both of us until he knew we'd made it through and were on our way.

Our trip may have already started, but our journey was only just beginning.

The whole day was spent in airports. Not exactly the funnest way to spent that many hours, but we made the best of it. On a side note, the restrooms in DFW are amazing, and if you have the chance, you should definitely go in one of the Monte Blanc stores. Write with one of the pens if you can. It's worth it, even if you don't want a fancy pen. Trust me. Oh, and wear comfy shoes if you'll be in Kennedy Airport. It's a trek. And don't use the bathrooms in Terminal 7. They're horrible.

Mum and I still had fun the whole way, despite what some people call the annoyance of being in an airport all day. After all, we were on our way to Europe, and neither of us had ever been out of the country before. This was our great adventure, and we had the blessing of experiencing it together! We watched people, walked around the airports, played games on our Kindles, and generally tried to stay awake throughout the day.

New York, Kennedy Airport, was interesting. Bag claim was a hassle that had to be dealt with. See, all both flights were one-way, so we had to stop and get our bags when we hit our layover city. At Kennedy, however, our bag claim belt was shared with four other flights. Four. Other. Flights. I can see the necessity, it being Kennedy Airport and all, but there were so many people and so many bags that it was just a confusing mess. We found our bags eventually, after me almost knocking down a twig of a woman trying to get mine off the belt. But then we had to change terminals, to get to where we would board our next flight, which meant taking the overground train Kennedy has in the middle of the terminals -- and something neither me nor Mum had ever experienced before. After struggling to get on the thing without falling, we were both then trapped without a bar to hold onto, and holding our suitcases, carry-ons, and purses. We both very nearly fell over. Fortunately, our terminal was the next one over. We waited in line almost forty minutes before we could check in, eventually made our way through security for the second time in one day, picked up some pastries from Starbucks to eat once our flight landed in Europe, and eventually found ourselves seated outside our gate, waiting for our place to board.

By eight-o-clock that night, we were on our way to Iceland.

Icelandair is, I think, one of the nicer airlines. We boarded the plane and were immediately handed a bottle of Iceland Glacial water, which by the way is delicious water. If you've never had it, you should. Yum. The water in the country is good too, though it smells a little funny. You won't notice that once you drink the deliciousness. I digress. The flight attendants left a blanket and small pillow on each of our seats, and we even had our own mini TVs to ourselves. Remember, I've never been out of the country, so I don't know if this is normal. It's not in domestic flights, let me tell you. Though the flight itself was a little choppy, it really felt like being in a car on the roads of New Mexico. Easy to deal with. Especially if you're from New Mexico. We slept most of the flight, or rather, tried to. It's hard to sleep on a plane!

On arriving at Keflavik Airport, my mother had a blonde moment. We weren't sure where to go, so she walked up to someone wearing the equivalent of a TSA badge and earwig and asked "Do you work here?" The woman replied, "I should hope so, or else I'm not sure why I would be wearing these," and laughed. She then directed us to where we needed to get our passports stamped, and once again we were on our way.

I'll tell you, the chaos of waiting in line to get your passport stamped is insane. I've rarely felt so cramped in my life, and I've never once gotten used to it. Some cultures don't believe in personal space, and I experienced that firsthand. Oy.

After only slight confusion, we got through the line and made our way to baggage claim.

There's a mall in Keflavik Airport. Not in the terminals, but outside. By bag claim. There's a duty-free mall, where you can buy everything from Iclandic alcohol to VS underwear, all duty-free. They even have carts! We did not partake. After all, we were only in Iceland a short time.

Bag claim in Iceland was much easier than it was in New York. Only one flight's bags to a belt, and ours were early off. We'd pre-purchased a bus ride to Reykjavik, where we were staying our first night, so we grabbed our tickets and got on for the ride.

Did I mention it was about 7 in the morning?

On advice from a friend of ours, who often travels to Germany to visit her family, we didn't stop to rest. Even so, we hadn't anticipated much action in the first twenty minutes we were in Reykjavik. That was not the case. The bus ride was nice (GrayLine, in case you wondered), and we had the opportunity to see a little bit of the countryside and eat the pastries we'd gotten from Starbucks in New York, while constantly reminding ourselves that it was now morning, and not the midnight our bodies believed it to be.

But then we got off the bus after the forty-five minute ride to Reykjavik, having told our driver what hotel to drop us off at, only to get off the bus and realize we were at the wrong location. And the bus was now gone. Sheesh. Google Maps to the rescue! (Sidenote: it's been great having T-Mobile out here. I don't mean to be a commerical, but man, these guys have some pretty great service overseas.) Mum mapped the address to where we were staying, and we started our trek.

People say you should get lost everywhere you go. I didn't know why, until that day. I didn't understand why anyone would ever want to get lost. I like to know where I am, always. I just do. But we got lost. Google Maps glitched, it couldn't figure out which way we were facing, and we made it to the end of a street and stopped in stumped confusion, unable to read or understand any of the street names, not knowing our north from our sideways, and in a city neither of us know much about.

Thank God for locals!

A lovely young lady stopped paused her walk while we were situated on the corner of that street, and asked us if we needed help.

Yes. Yes we did.

She helped us, even taught us how to pronounce the name of the street we were staying on, and once again we were on our way. Google Maps found us again, and twenty minutes from the time we were dropped off (also twenty minutes late to when we told our hosts we'd check-in), we arrived at the home of the lovely Bea and Haffi, Airbnb hosts.

Much to Bea's surprise, we simply dropped off our bags and went out again right away. After all, we'd been told that the best way to get over jetlag is simply to force yourself into the local time. It wasnow 9:30 in the morning, so we might as well act like it. Having already been lost in the city, we knew a little bit of how to get around town. That, my friends, is why you should get lost in every city you visit. You'll know your way around like nobody's business, let me tell you.

We went to a nearby pond and watched the ducks and swans, took pictures of some of the houses, and called the bus company to make sure they would pick us up at the right place from now on. Then we walked to a church Mum had found online, called Hallgrimskirkja, that she'd wanted to see. Don't ask me to prounounce that.

It's a beautiful church. I highly recommend going to see it, if you're in Iceland. Inside there's an organ, with an organist playing beautiful music that fills the great hall. Some people were sitting in the pews, enjoying the sound, while others were snapping pictures left and right. We were in the latter group. After paying a small fee, we went up to the top of the steeple. From up there, we could see what looked like all of Reykjavik. The coast was visible from one side, and houses on all three, in colors in such array that you will never see in New Mexico. Ever. The desert is known as fifty shades of brown. Reykjavik is a hundred shades of every color you've ever wanted to see.

From up there, we saw a statue on the coast that we wanted to see up close, so upon our descent we made note of the direction and headed off. After a short walk and stopping at various points along the way to photograph anything remotely pretty enough to photograph, we were there. It's like a Viking ship, an abstract one, made out of metal. I'll post pictures later, with everything else, as soon as I have time.

The coast in Reykjavik is beautiful. Beautiful. We could've sat out there for hours. I'm pretty sure we did, actually. We took more pictures, selfies included, and continued our walk. We found some parks to sit in, located a coffee shop for future reference, grabbed a hotdog from a food truck, and found the place where we wanted to go for dinner. But only one thing mattered at that point, only a few minutes after noon: sleep.

We slept for three hours, on what could've been a sack of potatoes for how tired we were but was actually quite a comfortable mattress. Soon after my head hit the pillow, I was asleep. Never have I been so happy to rest.

When we woke up, it was almost time to go out again. We changed clothes, freshened our makeup, brushed our teeth, and went to dinner.

Check out Tapas Barrin online if you get the chance. That's where we ate our Icelandic Feast. Of course, home-time it was nowhere near dinner time, so neither of us was very hungry... So we split a meal for one. It starts with a shot of Brennivin, a famous Icelandic drink which also happens to be delicous. But the main meal is smoked puffin in blueberry sauce, Arctic chard with red pepper salsa, lamb kabobs samfaina, blue ling in lobster sauce with luscious mashed potatoes, lobster tails baked in garlic butter sauce, minke whale with sweet potato puree and cranberry sauce, and white chocolate skyr (a traditional Icelandic dessert) mouse with passion coulis and lemon sorbet for dessert. Oh my goodness. That meal was delicious. If you've ever had Maine lobster, and you think it's the best lobster, you're wrong. Iceland lobster is awesome. And if you've been watching my Instagram, you'll have seen an image of the dessert, which was fabulous. I do not, however, recommend eating minke whale. I didn't like it, personally, but I can see how other people would. Try it, definitely. Arctic chard is very yummy, on the other hand, as was the blue ling. Go to Tapas Barrin for sure if you're in town. Mum said they have good coffee as well -- I didn't try it, but I'm also not a fan of coffee.

After a quick stop at the house to switch coats, we were picked up by GrayLine for a Northern Lights tour. We had two blessings on this trip. One was that we got to sit together. We were some of the last people on the bus, and literally had the last two seats side by side. The second was the lights themselves. Even the locals said they were some of the best they'd ever seen. The bus took us to a little cafe on a ranch outside town, on the other side of Iceland. There, we could either sit on the bus or in the cafe, or wait outside for the lights to start. Apparently, it's never predictable as to when they'll start, how long they'll last, or the colors they'll be. That night, they were beautiful. Mum and I spent half our time outside, and the other half inside trying to keep warm. The lights started as faint little lines, hard to pick up at all if your eyes caught the glint off someone's smartphone or the rays of headlights from a car across the way. But then, a few hours into the night, they danced. I'd never seen the Northern Lights before, but believe me, this was a spectacle. It was beautiful, and in so many colors I couldn't even describe. They danced across the sky, from horizon to horizon, mixing and blending, popping and spiraling, so much that none of us knew which way to look. I have never before seen a more dazzling display of nature, and I will never not recommend going on a Northern Lights tour, anytime you happen to be in Iceland, or in a place where you're able to see them. They lasted at least twenty minutes, though none of us knows for sure. We were all too ensconced by the lights themselves, by the beauty of it all, to know exactly how long it lasted. Whatever the length, it was beautiful, and so far I count it the highlight of the trip.

GrayLine returned us to the place we were staying, where we only spent the one night. We slept in in the morning, quickly got dressed, and went to the coffee shop we'd seen a few blocks away. Icelandic pastries are yummy. Though, I'd pretty much say that any pastry is a yummy pastry. But really, they were delicious. We had one that was a little like a crunchy croissant filled with raspberry cream and covered with dark chocolate and dried raspberries, and another that was akin to a turtle brownie. Also, starfruit strawberry tea is delicious. Mum had another coffee.

Once again, GrayLine were the ones to pick us up. This time, from the right location. They took us back to the airport -- but that wasn't where we planned to stay for long. See, our flight is tomorrow, very early in the morning, and we didn't want to have a forty-five minute bus ride that early. So we caught a taxi from the airport that took us here, to Keflavik, where we spent all afternoon. We once again walked a bit in the city, strolled along the paved coast, and even took the beaten path up along the rocky shore, where we took some marvelous pictures. I'll post some for you later, I promise.

We got to board a ship on the shore, one that's decommissed and open to the public, and even see a giantess in her cave. It was silly, but hey, we were having fun. And we were very thankful that we'd been working out at home, in preparation for the trip. And for comfy shoes. Don't go anywhere without comfy shoes. Seriously.

The afternoon ended at a touristy restaurant, where we split fish tikka and a seafood plate, and ate a creme brulee for dessert. You'll have seen the seafood plate on Instgram and Facebook, if you've been watching. We also met another mother/daughter travel duo from the States, from North Carolina, and stayed an extra hour in the restaurant to chat with them about our adventures.

Now, the day winds down in our bedroom of the next host house in which we're staying, and once again the Northern Lights are supposed to be stunning.

We'll see if I stay awake long enough to see them.

I doubt that I will.

[love]

{Rani Divine}

Pack Logic

As you all know, I’m on a trip! And I had something pretty cool happen while I was packing everything in my suitcase—something that’s never happened to me before.

My bag was underweight.
Seriously, that's never happened to me before. Usually I'm frantically searching for anything I can take out of my bag so it'll be under the dreaded fifty pound rule. I'm a chronic over-packer. 

So I was talking to my sister-in-law about how light my bag turned out, and she suggested writing a little blog about it, in case any of you guys were interested in my magic methods. Therefore, I thought I’d put together a short list of the things I did to keep my bag almost fifteen pounds underweight... so I can buy some souvenirs on my trip without going overweight on the way back home.

1. Weigh your bagI don’t mean after you’ve put stuff in it. I mean beforehand. You should know how much your bag weighs, so you know exactly how much space you have. If your bag is more than twelve pounds, I highly recommend getting a new one. Samsonite has some great lightweight bags out there, and Burlington Coat Factory usually has good prices on them.

2. Pack twiceI know, a lot of us don’t even want to pack once. But if you’re going on a week-long (or longer) trip, you’ll definitely need to pack twice. Yes, I'm saying I've been over fifty pounds on a week-long trip. I'm an overpacker, remember?

I guarantee you, the first time you pack, you’ll have put extraneous items in your bag. I can guarantee it, because I've done it. Every. Single. Time.

So weigh your bag after the first pack, take everything out, and remove what you won’t need. Don’t bring a shirt that will only go with one pair of pants. If it doesn’t match with at least three other articles, don’t pack it. Looking at you, ladies. ;-)

3. Get a lift scaleI don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but that’s what I’m calling it. My dad was nice enough to pick one up for us. It’s one of those scales that's basically a handle with a strap on it. You string said strap around the handle of your bag, and pick it up via the scale. It's a much more reliable read than your traditional bathroom scale, and honestly, they're a lot of fun to play with. I've been weighing random things around the house since we got it. You'd be surprised how much things actually weigh.

4. Think about your carry-onThe carry-on seems to be one of the most underutilized methods of packing. Use it! Put books, electronics, and as many liquids as you can into your carry-on. This will keep your main bag lighter and prevent any extra charges at check in from having a bag that's overweight.

That’s what I did, and I have an extra nearly fifteen pounds of space in my bag. Oh yeah, and most of what I packed was fall/winter clothes. And it's including two pairs of shoes. Boom.

Apparently, I know what I’m doing. Even though I didn’t realize it until right now.

For any of you going on trips soon, I hope my little guide gives you some ideas! My next blog post will be from the road, so keep your eyes out!

[love]

{Rani Divine}

Hi

As promised, today I want to take a few minutes to explain what’s going on with Too Many Books to Count, and why we stopped our (usually) month-long series a little early. 

I hope that you’ve enjoyed our latest series. I had a lot of fun drawing my characters for you, and picking out scenes that I think are very expressive of those characters. We’ve had a huge response from it, so it’s something I’ll definitely consider doing again.
But for the next two months, I’m going to be on a semi-hiatus.
Yes, that means I won’t be posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We’ll pick that up again in the beginning of November. Don’t worry – it’ll go by quickly.
During the time that I’m away, I will still be posting on Too Many Books to Count – but it will not be on a regular basis or in a describable pattern.
Why, you ask?
Because I’m going on a research trip out of the country!
I’m not going to tell you where I’m going, because I’d like it to be a surprise. I’ll only be posting a few times while I’m gone, but I’ll do my best to share some of the highlights of the trip and tell you some fabulous places to check out if you’ve never been before.
It’s a really special trip for me, because not only do I get to go exploring Europe (see, a hint!), I also get to go with my mum – one of my very best of friends.
We’re SO excited to get to experience this, and I really can’t wait to show you some of what we’ll be doing.
Will this help you figure out what I’ll be writing next, now that I’m almost finished with my Earth-Space series? Maybe. We’ll see. If I write something spectacular, I’ll let you know.
For now, thank you to everyone for sticking with me in Too Many Books to Count, and don’t forget to check back in regularly over the next couple months, for updates about where I’m going and what I’ll be doing.
[love]
{Rani Divine}

Arneia

Today, our series comes to an end. I know, it seems weird since we’re in the middle of a month. I’ll explain that on Monday, don’t worry.

I really hope that you’ve enjoyed getting to know some of my characters, as much as I’ve enjoyed sharing them with you. They all hold special places in my heart, even the ones who’ve annoyed me to no end. And today I’m sharing one who means a lot to me. She plays an important role in this world, and in the lives of more people than even she knows. And she’ll end up playing a pivotal role in the final installment of the Druid Novels.

Everyone, meet my first person narrator: the witch of the Dwr.

Arneia


(I was trying to make her hair look wet — how'd I do?)

Arneia was one of the characters who I just connected with from the very beginning. I never found her difficult to write. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I could’ve written the whole book from her point of view, and had no trouble whatsoever. That was how much she and I connected. I laughed with her, I cried with her, and I grew with her.

This scene is a very pivotal one in the story, one that you’ll all know is coming from the very beginning, and one that I looked forward to from the start.

I hope that you all enjoy it, and that you’ll stick around in the next few months as my publishers get ready to announce the release date of this beautiful addition to the Druid Novel series.


Excerpt #3 from Dwr: People in the Water, by Rani Divine©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016




I swam beneath the human’s vessel, ushering some of the swimmers away as I did so. The nets were being pulled up, and it wouldn’t be long before the swimmers were once again dragged up onto the deck to become the victims of the humans. This was their way of surviving. They needed sustenance, in the same way that the Dewin required it. But for them, it was not necessary that their sustenance be given to them by the world around them. For my people, the coral would drop their polyps into our hands, and we would eat. We did not require much, nor were we required to consume as frequently as humans, but still we ate. This much, I understood. I knew also that they would never find the island without our assistance—not the way they were moving now. They likely had no idea that the island even existed, only they hoped that it did. It was a hopeful thought, to know that Malcolm and his people wanted a better home, a better life. They didn’t want to be associated with the humans who lived in the plains. To them, those people they’d left behind were the scum of the earth. It fascinated me that they were even allowed to think or say such things about each other, as the future rulers of this world. There was no telling how long it would be before my people, and the people of my sisters among the Dewin, were taken from this world. Humans would have to learn to live with each other sooner or later, and it seemed most appropriate to me that they learn now, when there was still time and the Dewin still remained among them. For now, however, there was little that could be done on the matter. These had already left their home in the plains, and they searched for a home anew. I would not show it to them until I knew that they could be trusted, that they would not actively seek out and destroy members of my people. In truth, that was all that I could ask of them. Now, I released a few of the swimmers from my arms and turned back toward the ship. Since Mira’s stunt yesterday, more and more of my people had been entering the nets in an effort to rescue as many swimmers as possible. I didn’t know what they hoped to gain by prolonging the time the humans remained in this place, casting their nets in search of sustenance, but I could no longer prevent them. I’d followed their example more than once this day alone, with Afon at my side. The swimmers were my ward. I had to care for them in any way that I possibly could. That meant that I would resort even to this, to ignoring the people aboard the ship and the needs of their bodies, in order to preserve the lives of those I held most dear. The swimmers were mine to care for, given to me by the Vartes. Many of them would die at the jaws of the sharks or the other predators: it could not be prevented. But the lives lost to the humans were avoidable, in many ways. Another of the nets was pulled up from the depths, catching over a hundred of the swimmers within its embrace. Unthinkingly, I swam toward it as quickly as I possibly could. I reached my arm inside from the top and retrieved as many of them as I could. It was already far too late for anyone to jump within the arms of this net and save the majority of the swimmers. “Fyddech chi'n gadael iddyn nhw farw?” Mira asked as she swam closer to me. “You would let them die?” I knew by now what she was trying to do, why she had stayed here even after I’d asked her to leave and shown her that there was no reason to remain in the absence of her master. My sister had been ordered to goad me, to anger me and make me hate what she had become. To my disgrace and shame, it had begun to work. Her eyes stared into mine, and I was pained at the sight of them. I did not want to believe that my own sister could grow to hate me, that she could so easily be turned against the Vartes, against her own sister. This was not the Mira I’d grown up with. She was no longer my sister. Yet, every time I looked into her eyes, I saw only the gaze of my mother’s daughter. “Rwy'n arbed cymaint ag y gallaf,” I replied, watching as the net was pulled up onto the ship and another was cast off the opposite side. “I save as many as I can.” “Maent yn eich ward. Onid ydych yn gweld?” She swam closer to me and took hold of one of my wrists. “They are your ward. Do you not see?” She tugged on my arm and pointed up onto the deck of the ship, where even now many of the swimmers were being gutted. Blood spilled down off the ship and into the water. Sharks already patrolled the outer edges of this region, being kept at bay only by the magic of my people. When the nets finally ceased, they would feast on the parts cast off by the humans, the pieces that these people had no desire to consume. “Yr wyf gwrach, chwaer. Rwy'n gweld i gyd,” I breathed, forcing my eyes back down onto the last of the nets. “I am witch, sister. I see all.” I’d kept count every time they’d dropped the nets to fish, and if I’d counted properly, this would be the last. “Byddwch yn gweld dim ond yr hyn yr ydych am ei weld,” Mira replied. “You see only what you wish to see.” She released my arm and swam closer to the vessel, watching to see when they would begin to pull the net back up.“Ydych chi hyd yn oed yn gwybod faint sydd wedi marw heddiw?” she asked. “Do you even know how many have died this day?” A shark snapped its jaws on the other side of the line, and she flinched at the sound. Instinct. Even my people had something to fear in the predators of these waters. We never knew what they were thinking, what they would do. But I doubted that my sister would ever be willing to give her life for one of them, as all of us had been asked to do. “Rwy'n gwybod y bydd yna fwy os na fyddwn yn ofalus,” I said. “I know there will be more if we are not careful.” I attempted to take her hand, and she only swam closer to the net. Slowly, like a shroud of mist moving over the waters, the net began to rise. My sister turned toward me, hatred in her eyes. I knew she would not attempt to rescue any of those now caught in the nets, not after everything she’d said to me now. She wanted me to prove that I was willing to give my life for my ward. Her eyes pierced into mine, and she did not look away. Even as I turned and swam into the net, catching up an armful of the swimmers to throw from the trap, I felt her eyes upon me. I cast the swimmers up and out of the net, and I took hold of the edge to follow. But before I could move, Mira’s hand covered mine. The net was pulled tight, all the edges now breaking the surface of the water. In that moment, I finally understood the true purpose of my sister’s presence. It wasn’t simply to goad me, to make me feel pain over all that had happened. She was here to trick me, to trap me, and to throw me into what she believed was a den of the most vicious of creatures. “Hwyl fawr, chwaer,” she said as she looked up at me, her expression consumed by malice. “Goodbye, sister.” “Efallai y bydd eich pobl yn drugarog yn eich tranc.” She smiled. “May your humans be merciful in your demise.” The net was pulled higher from the water, and I struggled to be free. I shouted down to my sister. I watched as some of the others came to my aid, only to be held back by Afon. He would not allow them to risk their lives—not even for me. It was well. I would’ve ordered him to do that very thing. Being dragged from the depths, from the only place I had ever known as my home, I felt the cold air rush upon my body. Swimmers surrounded me, those that I’d been unable to save. Fear crashed down upon me, and I prayed to the Vartes that there was another way, that there must have been something I could do to get out of this situation. I prayed for aid, that someone would loose the end of the rope and the net would crash back into the sea. I felt the wooden surface of the ship beneath me as the net was finally dragged up onto the deck and my ward spilled from its hold. My own body betrayed me, thrashing against the air that surrounded me. This was not my home. I could breathe air, yes, but I could not survive for long in this place.          I screamed.

Maisie

What’d you guys think of the first Dwr scene? I hope you enjoyed Malcolm and Piper just as much as I do. Piper gets to be a lot of fun, and Malcolm… Well, I love Malcolm.

Today, I’m sharing with you another character very near and dear to my heart. She needs a little cherishing, because she’s been through a lot. She’s Malcolm’s little sister, and the whole reason why the two of them are on this expedition. Why is that? Well, you’ll just have to read the book and find out.

Everyone, meet the lovely little…

Maisie


Although in many ways she was a difficult character to write, she was also a lot of fun to work with. I really couldn’t predict her, at any time. She was always keeping something from me, right up to the very end.

But for me, that makes for a very fun character. I go back and read her a lot, just to remember what it was like to write her scenes.

Excerpt #2 from Dwr: People in the Water, by Rani Divine ©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016


Maisie stood from her cot inside the captain’s cabin, her decision finally made. She’d been watching the water for hours, staring in search of Mama, when finally she was there. Her head popped up from the water, her black eyes looking up toward the quarterdeck. As far as Maisie could tell, the wraith didn’t see her at all. But from where she watched, near the very back of the cabin, she saw both the creature and her brother. They looked at each other, sharing something though Maisie heard no words exchanged between them. Mothers and sons were always that way, or so she’d heard.Seeing that finalized what she was going to do. In her eyes, there was no other option. She wanted to see her mother, whether her brother wanted her to or not. Already today she’d been out on the deck. She’d gone out with Piper early this morning to watch while the fish swarmed around the boat. They’d been asked to leave while the fishermen were working, but the time had used up all that they were allowed on the deck. If Maisie wanted to go out there now, she would have to do so without anyone else seeing—especially Mal or the captain. There were ways to get where she wanted to go without starting out on the deck, but she didn’t want to risk hitting the side of the Helena on the way down. Taking a deep breath, she walked out from behind the screen. No one else was in the cabin. That, at least, was in her favor. Silently, she climbed down out of the cabin and into the main housing deck. All eyes immediately shifted to her, and she did everything in her power to ignore them. She didn’t want to look at any of them. None of what they were doing mattered to her. They always looked at her like this, every time she came out of the cabin. People didn’t expect to see her down here. It was understandable, after how much time she’d already spent up inside that small room. And she knew what people thought of her and Malcolm sleeping in that cabin, while the captain’s own daughters slept down here. Some of them believed that the captain was having his way with her, that it was the reason why she never left that room. Others believed she was only here because she’d snuck aboard, and they wanted to hide it from everyone. Very few of them truly understood the truth of it. Refusing to make eye contact with any of them, she walked outside their quarters to the ladder, and climbed up toward the main deck. Rain still fell lightly from the thick grey clouds above, and the crew busied themselves with the rigging and the sails. Maisie didn’t even pause to wonder what the people were doing. It didn’t matter. There were creatures in the water, and she was going to see them whether Mal wanted her to or not. He couldn’t protect her forever, no matter how much he wanted to make her believe that he could. He could never be there for her all the days of her life. He would do his best, but even his best wouldn’t be everything. Now was time to live her own life, to do the things that she most wanted to do. She poked her head up onto the main deck and waited until she was certain no one was looking at her. Then she climbed up onto the deck and followed a crowd of men toward the railing on the port side—the side opposite where Mal and the captain now stood. Again, Maisie waited. She left the crowd of deckhands and cowered close to the railing, preparing herself to jump in. She heard the sounds of the sails being lowered, the anchor rising from the depths so the Helena could again make way, but none of it mattered. None of those sounds truly registered in her mind as she watched her brother on the quarterdeck. He was looking around the main deck, watching the crew go about their business while the captain held up the glass to view the path before them. Once Malcolm looked away, she took her chance. She swung her legs over the side of the railing and took a deep breath, her eyes staring down at the water. Her eyes registered images of teeth and fins, colors and drops of water, but none of it meant anything in the final moments before she leapt from the edge of the Helena. Mama was down there, beneath those very waves. She kept her legs tight beneath her and crossed her arms over her chest, the same as she’d seen the men do in the lake when they were about to jump into the water. Within seconds, her body was completely engulfed with icy cold water. Her legs and arms paddled as hard as they could, struggling to keep herself afloat. Her head burst from the water, and she watched as the Helena sailed away. She gasped loudly and swam as hard as she could toward it, unable to force herself to cry out. There was no telling what her brother or the captain would think of finding her down here, of seeing how utterly insubordinate she’d been by jumping into the water a second time. The whole thought of it was absurd, the very idea that she’d jumped into the water to find one of the wraiths, the embodiment of her mama—a ghostly figure she’d seen her brother interacting with. As she swam, something touched her legs. She gasped again and swam even harder. The last thing she wanted to do was look down at see what it was. Then another figure burst from the waters in front of her. Shark. She’d heard the name before, and even seen dead ones in some of the fisheries in the village. They were deadly, killers, and they were only ever seen out here in the salty waters of the ocean. Again, Maisie gasped loudly. This time, she stopped. The thing was in front of her. She couldn’t very well keep going that way when it was right there, waiting to swallow her whole. Instead, she took a deep breath and dove down beneath the waves. Searing pain hit her eyes the moment she opened them. Mal had told her about this, from the first few times he’d been in the water. She hadn’t thought to retrieve his goggles from their quarters.          There were sharks all around her, swimming tight little circles a short distance away from her body. Unthinkingly, she screamed beneath the water, terrified that they would strike her, tear her limb from limb. But every time one tried to swim close to her, it hit a wall—almost literally. Their snouts bent against an invisible wall.

Malcolm

Happy Monday, everyone!

Now, two weeks ago I shared some sketches and excerpts from Coetir. Last week, it was Cedwig. That means this week we’re looking at some characters you haven’t met yet—characters from my next novel, Dwr: People in the Water!

 You know what that means! Pre-release excerpts!! 


For the first time, making his debut appearance, I’d like you to meet...

Malcolm 



He’s the primary human character in Dwr, and he’s been a lot of fun to work with. This book was written extremely quickly. It actually got stuck in my head partway through writing Coetir, but instead of writing Dwr, I fought it and wrote Cedwig. After that, there was no more fighting to be done.

Since then, Mal has been one of my favorite characters to go back and read time and time again. In this scene, he and Piper, the daughter of the ship’s captain, are taking a dinghy out into the strait between the lake and the ocean, searching for a path on which to take their ship.

I hope you enjoy!

Excerpt #1 from Dwr: People in the Water, by Rani Divine ©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016


Malcolm held out his hand to help Piper down into the small boat. He’d already packed all the necessary items for the night, a blanket in case she grew cold or tired, food and water, an oil lamp, and the supplies they needed to test the depth of the waters. “You ready for this?” He smiled as her feet landed in the boat. She’d changed her clothes and was now wearing a pair of trousers and a loose fitting shirt, her hair tied up into a bun on the back of her neck. He was almost surprised to see how at home she seemed in men’s clothing, but at the same time it only made her that much more like Maisie. The two likely would’ve preferred to have been born the opposite gender, if only so their opportunities in life would’ve been more to their liking. He couldn’t say that he blamed them, what with the way this society tended to treat their women. Very few women or girls were allowed to learn anything beyond the trades of their mothers, nor were they allowed to dress as they would’ve liked—or even to see the sun if they weren’t accompanied by their father or guardian. He hoped things would be different in their new home, but he knew how most of these people still felt about women taking on other positions in life. It was a common belief that women’s place was in the home, and that they didn’t have the capacity to handle doing things outside their homes. It would take more than a move outside the plains to change the way everyone thought. He’d seen the looks on people’s faces when he’d ordered Piper to prepare to come with him. No one had honestly expected that the captain would put his daughter in this position, that he would allow her to go out with a man she’d only known for a matter of months to learn how to test the depth of the water. But all they could do now was show the rest of the crew that Piper could be taught. In a way, it was a test for every last woman aboard the ship. If Piper could be trained in seamanship, then so could the rest. “I think so,” Pip finally replied, smiling brightly as she steadied herself and sat on one of the benches. “I’ll signal you when we’re on our way back,” Mal said, looking up to the captain on the ship. Scott only nodded, his eyes staring after his little girl as Malcolm shoved off from the Helena and fastened his oars into place. “Think you’re strong enough to row?” he asked as he sat and steadied himself. “I can try,” she replied, nodding. He quickly showed her what to do, how to rest her set of paddles into the grooves on the sides of the boat and how best to paddle so as not to wear herself out too quickly. He needed her to be awake for the better part of this trip. The strait wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to traverse, even in as small a boat as this. There were still places where they could be run aground if they weren’t careful. They rowed in silence for quite some time, through the narrowest sections of the lake, the only place where both shores could be seen at all times. Malcolm continuously watched those shores, watching for anyone who might be spying upon them as they made their way into the treacherous sections of the water. Even though the closest villages were still a ways away, far enough from the water to prevent flooding during the rains, the captain still sensed danger in people who didn’t see right in what they were doing. For the time being, it was easier on both of them not to speak. Piper, because she’d never done this before and needed to conserve her oxygen, Malcolm because he needed to ensure that they were going in the correct direction and weren’t drawing unwanted attention. Evening was fast on its way, and night life in the plains was never a quiet affair. “Hold up,” he said when he guessed they were deep enough into the strait to begin testing. The sun was still high enough that they could see where they were going and what they were doing, but it wouldn’t last forever. There was no way that they would be able to get across the whole of the strait and back again before night fell—all they needed to do was get there and back again before dawn, so they would be able to sail the Helena through before anyone had the chance to stop them. They hadn’t packed much weaponry aboard the ship, believing it wouldn’t be necessary, but it was no secret what the other captains thought of this journey. Piper lifted her oars up out of the water and set them back into the boat. “We’re here?” she asked. “Stop number one.” Malcolm nodded as he lifted a cord from the floor. They’d tied a small anchor to one end and marked how high the water needed to come upon the cord. They would drop the anchor down into the water at regular intervals to ensure that the ship would be able to pass through these sections. It was a crude trick, but it was also the only one they had all of the supplies for. The strait wasn’t checked for depth often enough. No one dared to cross it, so there was little point in mapping it. Silently, Mal dropped the anchor into the water beside the boat, holding tightly to the other end of the cord as it went. All the while, Piper watched him with curious eyes, soaking up every ounce of instruction she could by simply observing. The anchor fell quickly, landing upon the sea floor with no sound at all. He sighed and looked down at the cord in his hands. The water was too shallow. “We’ll have to try another area,” he said. “What would happen if we tried to take her through here?” she asked as she readied her oars once again. Malcolm pulled the anchor up out of the water and placed his hands on the ends of his oars. “The ship would run aground, and we’d have to wait for a heavy rain before we could move her,” he said. “Let’s try the east.” He nodded toward the opposite end of the strait, and Piper settled in to get to work. It was an interesting thing, watching the way she behaved in this situation. They both knew if anyone came across them they could be in real danger. After all, there was little chance that Piper could be mistaken for a man, and yet she was wearing men’s clothing in public. That wasn’t done in their culture. The only reason Maisie got away with it so often was that she was never out in public. But Piper was completely comfortable in this setting, even in the knowledge that she could be severely punished if they were seen. She wanted to learn about sailing, about life on the water, and this was one of her first real lessons. “We’ll have Paul teach you how to man the helm once we’re out to sea,” he said, without even thinking. “Really?” Her eyes lit up at the thought. “Your father wants you to take command, should anything happen to the two of us.” Mal shrugged, smiling at her response. “You’ll need to know what you’re doing.” She grinned brightly, but he saw the struggle in her face as she pulled her oars back in time with his, carrying them partway against the current, pulling her own weight in a way that she’d never had to do before. Within a few minutes, they were in place again and Piper pulled her oars back up out of the water. Mal did the same, this time laying them across the width of the boat so it wouldn’t be as difficult to get them back into the water. He dropped the anchor off the side and watched while the cord slipped down into the water. “Please,” he whispered under his breath as he watched it go. When the anchor finally hit the bottom, he stared at the cord in silence. “What is it?” Pip asked, leaning forward in her seat. Malcolm lifted his eyes to look straight into hers. “She’ll make it through here,” he said, a smile crossing his face. “You can store your oars now,” he added. “We’ll move with the current for a while.”          Her smile grew ever brighter at the mention of no longer having to paddle. It would take far less effort to get to their next destination than it had to reach either of these. This time, they didn’t have to get away from the ship, and they didn’t have to row partway against the current. Malcolm could manage this part on his own, and Piper could learn how to test the depths of the water, and how to tell when they’d reached the shallowest of sections. After all, her lessons were the secondary goal here.

Emmett

The time has come. For the first time, I’m revealing a male character. I don’t draw guys as much yet, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m getting better at them though! I really am!
Meet Emmett!


He’s Freia’s brother (if you'll notice — they have the same nose), and both one of the most annoying and most fun characters I’ve ever worked with. He took a lot of doing to get him where I wanted him, and he fought me the whole way, but we made it work. And now he’s really one of my favorite characters to go back and revisit, and occasionally I even miss him.
I picked a scene that’s classic Emmett, and one of the ones that was a bear for me to write. It also happens to be a classic Raivyn scene. Classic all around!

Oh, and have you made any guesses as to what excerpts I'll be showing you next week? ;-)
Excerpt #3 from Cedwig: People in the Vines by Rani Divine©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016
 Emmett did his best to keep from shouting his frustrations as he was once again turned away from helping the others. The afternoon’s end was nigh and he’d hardly been able to do a thing. Father had brought him to this place so that he could learn to be a man, and he was doing the best that he could, but it would have been easier if some of the other men would’ve allowed him to help.
True, he wasn’t the strongest man in the group. In fact, he may very well have been the opposite. But he’d never wanted to be strong. It wasn’t who he was. All his life, he’d known exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to study. He wanted to learn as much as he possibly could, and he wanted to pass the information on to everyone around him. The problem was that everyone saw it as weak. There were no teachers, even in the plains. Girls were taught by their mothers, boys were taught by their fathers. There was no crossover, traditionally. Father had been different. He’d encouraged Emmett to seek new information, to learn everything that he wanted to learn. He’d encouraged it all. And so Emmett had done as he thought his father wanted and gone into the field of study—a field in which there were only about a dozen others in all of the plains—and he hadn’t looked back. Until father had brought up the idea of coming on this expedition, Emmett hadn’t even paused to notice how much his family was ridiculed for him and his sister. Freia had borne the brunt of it. The other girls didn’t like that Freia knew how to handle a blade, that she knew how to defend herself, that she knew how to make a sword or an ax, or even that she’d been taught to read and write. They were jealous of her, Emmett had always thought. Only when they were older, when she’d come of age, had he noticed how much it hurt her. She was a woman, after all. She wanted someone to think highly of her. Emmett had kindly taken on that role. She was better than him at almost everything. But in all his life he’d never even noticed how much she’d borne on his behalf. Since they’d left the plains, he’d heard every name in the book—and he’d read more than his share of books. They all thought he was useless, simply because he had been allowed to pursue his own career. He hadn’t wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, to become a blacksmith. But apparently that was even what mother had wanted of him, before she died. That was why father had decided to uproot and bring them here. Everyone said so. Now, he sighed and walked back to where everyone was stacking the supplies they’d brought in from the forest. Father still hadn’t joined them, even though it was late in the day. Jonas said that it wouldn’t be a problem—but only for today. If father kept it up, he would be punished despite everything Freia had done to keep it from happening. She’d done this for them. Deep down, Emmett believed their father understood that. Freia had left and renounced them for their sakes. She didn’t want them punished for all she had done, for the fact that she didn’t feel as though she fit in here. In times like this, Emmett imagined he would’ve been better off to have joined her. These people certainly didn’t want him here. “They told me to come see if you needed help,” he said to the nearest man. He couldn’t remember his name. The only one he really knew was Shawn, and that was only because Shawn had actually spoken to him. He hadn’t put him down, hadn’t called him names, had said anything about Freia or her choices. He’d even seemed to understand when Emmett wept at the sight of her leaving. But he didn’t know that anyone would fully understand. Freia had kept much from him. She’d shielded him from the name calling, the harassments. She’d taken it all on herself, and she’d hardly complained. She’d only picked on him in return. She’d even helped carry his things on their trek through the woods, and she hadn’t said another word. “No,” the man replied, almost angrily. “Maybe you should go see if the women need any help,” one of the others said, laughingly. Emmett bit his tongue and walked away. It wouldn’t matter, but he knew very well that he held more knowledge than they. He knew, in his vast stores of information, that the house they were going to build was bound to failure. They weren’t even checking the trees before chopping them down—they only went out to find large trees, and took them down. He highly doubted that any of them, even Jonas, truly knew what they were doing. But they wouldn’t care that Emmett did, because he was too physically weak to help them do it. He smiled to himself as he thought of all the things that he could call them, without them even being able to understand. If he was the type of person to seek revenge, he might go back and start calling them names. They might all look at him and laugh, or they might grow angry and ask what his words meant, but he knew that they would never really know, unless he found it in himself to explain it to them. “Hey!” a woman shouted from down by the river, waving toward him. “Get over here!” Her eyes stared into his, and he knew she was speaking to him. Emmett shook his head and wiped the smile from his face as he walked toward the river, hands in his pockets. “Do me a favor?” she asked when he was close enough. She looked very young, younger than he’d noticed from a distance. Her skin was light, fragile, and he could see her bones in many places. She’d obviously been malnourished. Maybe that was why she’d been brought here, to get her the help she needed. Her big brown eyes looked straight up into him, beneath short straight hair that fell over her forehead and just covered her ears. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. “Tell the other men to do their business downstream from now on,” she snapped, throwing a piece of fruit in his face. “We can’t feed you food that’s been washed in your own piss.” She huffed and turned away, and Emmett stifled a laugh. The men hadn’t thought of that. He’d seen some of them relieving themselves upstream of the women, in the forest where they couldn’t be seen. And he’d tried to explain to them that their clothes would end up with at least trace amounts of urine, and that it could poison their food, but again they hadn’t cared. No one wanted to listen to reason and logic when their was muscle around with things to be built. “I’ll tell them,” he said softly. “See that you do,” she replied, her voice barely louder than the rush of the river. “How did you know?” His brow furrowed. “It smells like urine,” she said as she turned to look him in the eye, an exasperated look on her face. “We’re going to have to rewash the clothes, unless you’re all okay smelling like piss.” He couldn’t help but laugh this time. Never in his life had he heard a women speak a word like that. It wasn’t proper of them. “We don’t have to tell them.” He winked. “Do whatever you want, as long as you all stop pissing in the river.” She seemed to enjoy the way he reacted when she spoke that word. “What’s your name?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Raivyn,” she said as she knelt at the water’s edge. “Go tell them what I said.” Her eyes glared up at his, and he knew better than to ignore.

Raivyn

Happy Wednesday, everyone! I have to say, I’m really enjoying this short series. It’s been fun to show you the early stages of my art, and it’s always fun to share some excerpts with all of you. So today we’re talking about my mum’s favorite character in Cedwig...
Raivyn



Yes, I admit it, I have a fondness for adding an I next to an A in girl’s names of this nature. I don’t know why. I always have.
In honor of my mum, and the fact that this is her favorite character, I also picked Mum’s favorite scene involving Raivyn… and possibly her favorite scene in the book. It’s a good scene: I’ll give it that. It was a very fun scene to write, and one that's left a permanent image of Raivyn inside my head. That's always fun to come across. 

Enjoy, my friends. Enjoy.
Excerpt #2 from Cedwig: People in the Vines by Rani Divine ©Copyright RAD Writing, 2016

 Raivyn had done everything in her power to ignore the shouts, and she couldn’t take it any longer. She’d finally convinced Carol to allow her some time alone in the forest, picking berries to eat with their dinner. She wasn’t allowed to stray far away from where the men were gathering their supplies, but she didn’t need to go that far. She only wanted to get far enough away that the forest would drown out the noise.
Interrogation methods weren’t her forte, but she knew that this was wrong. Neil had hardly been allowed to move in hours, and she’d seen more blood in the past day than she’d seen in all her time as an adult woman. She couldn’t stay in earshot any longer. Now, she walked through the trees, carefully stepping over roots and brambles to reach the berry bushes. This was the first time she’d truly been allowed to enter the forest, aside from being sent to ask questions of the men. She had to admit, since they’d moved into the field, the forest seemed was much more appealing. If it were possible, she would’ve asked that her family move into a smaller clearing, some distance away from the main field. But even if she could find a suitable space, she knew that her family would not be willing to go through with it. At the very least, mother would want to remain in close proximity to other people. The woman was a socialite, if ever there was one. When she finally reached a bush containing thousands of tiny red berries, she dropped to her knees and plucked the nearest berries from their stems. Her task, many times, had been to clean the fruits and prepare them for dinner—and she knew that it would be no different this evening. With that in mind, she took her time, finding the plumpest of berries and plucking them completely from their stems before she placed them into her basket. It was surprising that they hadn’t thought of her for such a task before. She wasn’t afraid to be in the forest, her limbs were small enough that she could reach into the thorny brambles without getting stuck, and she knew very well how to tell a ripe berry from a sour one. She couldn’t say the same for many of the others. In the plains, they’d only bought their food. Their mothers hadn’t thought to teach them how to tell between ripe and raw. But Raivyn’s mother was a gardener. She’d taught her daughter everything that she knew, despite Raivyn’s insistence that plants would never be her metier. No matter how hard she’d tried, Raivyn couldn’t grow anything. But she knew how to pick fruits, and she knew how to tell when something was poisonous, especially when it came to mushrooms. Carol had been begging Raivyn’s mother to come out and look for mushrooms, but the woman was far too afraid of everything that moved. None of them had stopped to think that Raivyn might be good at it, or that she wouldn’t mind looking. As soon as her basket was half-full, she turned to one of the other girls, Sera, who’d been searching for fruits up in the trees. The girl looked more terrified than a fly caught in the web of a spider. “How much have you found?” Raivyn asked her, trying to remain civil though she wanted to explain to the girl that the trees in which she searched were not fruit-bearing at all. Sera trembled and shook her head, turning her basket upside down. Empty. “Take this back to the others.” Raivyn sighed as she reached her own basket out toward the girl. “Tell Carol I’m going to look for some mushrooms, and I’ll be back before the men leave the forest.” She groaned quietly when the girl curtly nodded and walked away, leaving her own basket on the ground at Raivyn’s feet. Women like Sera should never have been brought to a place like this. Raivyn picked up the basket and walked back around the berry bush, not bothering to ensure that any of the men were in sight. She knew how to take care of herself, should anything come up. She plucked a small handful of berries from the bush and placed them in the bottom of the basket, in case she wanted something to eat while she searched the ground. Using the skills her mother had taught her, she walked into an area that seemed untouched and untrampled by the men—exactly what she was looking for. She smiled brightly as she set her basket down and got onto her knees, lifting fallen vines and branches in search of her prize. If only she could find something, anything, that would be of more sustenance to them, maybe Carol would begin to think of her as someone who could go out into the forest and look for things. Maybe she would start to be useful around camp for a change. When she finally found a cluster of mushrooms, she pulled the pocketknife from her bosom and cut them from the ground, one by one. In the dense forest, it was difficult to tell whether this species was edible or not. But she knew once she got it back to the field, she would be able to tell. If not, mother would surely know. Her brow furrowed when the wind swirled above her, in a pattern it hadn’t been moving before. It seemed to move toward her, rather than up through the tops of the trees. Raivyn lifted her eyes to look up into the branches, and she had to stifle a gasp when she saw the creature perched there. From the look on his face, he hadn’t yet noticed her. He was looking in the opposite direction, likely watching some of the men. But that meant the men were close, and if they found her here, away from everyone else, she could be in the same position as Freia. Not that she would’ve minded seeing her brothers tied up in the stocks, after everything they’d put her through over the years. Smiling, she picked up a berry from her basket and threw it toward the creature, striking his shoulder. He turned toward her, an inquisitive look in his black eyes. She’d never seen one so close before. But now that she had, she saw why the others feared them. His teeth were sharp and pointed, his nails like claws, his entire body toned and fit, as though at any moment he could become a weapon. And he was wild. She knew that, just by looking him in the eye. The way that he perched in the trees revealed his inhumanity, his body contorting in a way that no human’s ever could. But she was not afraid. In fact, there was only one question she had, now that she looked the creature in the eye. “Are these safe to eat?” she whispered, hoping that he could hear. Surely, the creatures had a way to understand basic. Freia had joined them, so they must have had some way to communicate. It wasn’t as though she would’ve run off into the forest to be with a people that she couldn’t even understand. Freia wasn’t that type of person. The creature tilted his head to the side and leapt through the wind, landing directly before her. He squatted at her side and looked beneath the vines at the mushrooms, his eyes glancing back and forth between her and them. “They are safe,” he said finally. “Though I do not like the taste.” Raivyn lifted her fingers to her lips, trying to stifle a laugh. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Are there ones that taste better?” She smiled brightly. “Across the river.” He nodded. “I can’t go there.” She shook her head, automatically reaching out to place her hand on his scaly arm. “What about here?” “You would do better to eat the leaves.” He reached up, plucked one of the darkest vines from the trees, and gently tore away a few of the leaves from its stem. “Taste.” He placed one into her hand. She did as he said, placing the greens into her mouth. She didn’t even bother to taste it, she only chewed and swallowed. The longer she stood there, beside one of the creatures, the more she understood Freia’s fascination. They weren’t human, no, but they were beautiful. This man seemed to genuinely care whether or not she liked the taste of the leaves. And what’s more, he could speak her language. He knew how to communicate with her, right from the start. Why, then, were Jonas and the others so afraid? “It’s good,” she whispered after a moment. He smiled brightly and reached back up into the branches. “Where’s Freia?” she breathed, before he could leave. “Safe,” he whispered, lifting a finger to his lips. “They come.” She nodded, cutting the last of the mushrooms from the cluster before quickly making her way back to the berry bush. If anyone asked, she’d only gone to the other side of the bush, to gather mushrooms from beneath some vines. She hadn’t ventured far enough away that the men wouldn’t have been able to hear her—and at least that part was the truth.