Excerpt #2: JUST OFF THE PATH
Hi everyone!
The last excerpt I posted was from chapter one, so I figured in light of the fact we're only six weeks out to the release of Just Off the Path that now might be a good time to post a few paragraphs from the next chapter!
So, from "A Gathering of Horses":
**
Hansel could have thought about Rapunzel the rest of the way into the city, but his reverie was abruptly interrupted when Gretel recoiled and grabbed onto his arm in fright. Ahead were three horses, tied to a thick tree trunk, picking at what was left of the grass beneath them while their riders kneeled on the ground beside them, examining something. Bystanders from the village just outside Hildebrand crowded around the horsemen, who were dressed similarly to Klaus, horrified by the sight on the ground.
The horses were oblivious to their surroundings. All they knew was that there, the spot to which they were bound, lacked the hay they needed to survive. Hansel didn’t want to look down as they passed the scene. For the first few seconds, he looked at the horses, and then he looked at the people. People knew murder when they saw it, horses didn’t. He thought that must have been the reason why they all looked terrified, while the horses simply looked hungry. It wasn’t that the horses were stupid, but murder didn’t exist in the horse world. Horses knew what hay was and what wasn’t, who could get close to them and who couldn’t, and when they were or weren’t tied up. He envied that about them—they didn’t have to worry about murder or winter. They simply existed in a world where awful things happened.
The only reason Hansel looked at the body was to ensure that it wasn’t Ceara. It wasn’t. A middle-aged man with a white shirt turned red was lying on his back. According to the man, death wasn’t as peaceful as Hansel thought. His face was twisted into a horrid U-shape, his mouth wide open as if he’d died while screaming. His skin was splotched in black-blue bruises near the stab wounds, and his intestines poked out from a thought back to his cottage. Their food supply consisted mostly of cucumbers that were waiting to be pickled so that they would last the winter. His stomach growled. He could practically smell the roasted venison being cooked below. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had seasoned meat.
The last excerpt I posted was from chapter one, so I figured in light of the fact we're only six weeks out to the release of Just Off the Path that now might be a good time to post a few paragraphs from the next chapter!
So, from "A Gathering of Horses":
**
Hansel could have thought about Rapunzel the rest of the way into the city, but his reverie was abruptly interrupted when Gretel recoiled and grabbed onto his arm in fright. Ahead were three horses, tied to a thick tree trunk, picking at what was left of the grass beneath them while their riders kneeled on the ground beside them, examining something. Bystanders from the village just outside Hildebrand crowded around the horsemen, who were dressed similarly to Klaus, horrified by the sight on the ground.
The horses were oblivious to their surroundings. All they knew was that there, the spot to which they were bound, lacked the hay they needed to survive. Hansel didn’t want to look down as they passed the scene. For the first few seconds, he looked at the horses, and then he looked at the people. People knew murder when they saw it, horses didn’t. He thought that must have been the reason why they all looked terrified, while the horses simply looked hungry. It wasn’t that the horses were stupid, but murder didn’t exist in the horse world. Horses knew what hay was and what wasn’t, who could get close to them and who couldn’t, and when they were or weren’t tied up. He envied that about them—they didn’t have to worry about murder or winter. They simply existed in a world where awful things happened.
The only reason Hansel looked at the body was to ensure that it wasn’t Ceara. It wasn’t. A middle-aged man with a white shirt turned red was lying on his back. According to the man, death wasn’t as peaceful as Hansel thought. His face was twisted into a horrid U-shape, his mouth wide open as if he’d died while screaming. His skin was splotched in black-blue bruises near the stab wounds, and his intestines poked out from a thought back to his cottage. Their food supply consisted mostly of cucumbers that were waiting to be pickled so that they would last the winter. His stomach growled. He could practically smell the roasted venison being cooked below. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had seasoned meat.
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