Been working on the new book (tentative title: Storm Surge) again lately. I might have posted this bit before, but it’s had some new work done on it.
The Forge was dark overhead, and the stones under Abbie’s feet were turning cold again. Her arms hurt. She’d practiced longer than usual, and was paying the price.
Waves lapped at her toes. She stared out over the water, thinking about the girl from the Valleys. Mary.
The mother, Hazel, and her sister, Rose, had mountain accents that made their words feel clipped off at the ends. They reminded Abbie of the mountain traders that came down to the Shore every verse or two.
Mary, on the other hand, spoke with the rolling cadence of the Valleys, and Abbie wanted to hear her sing in that soft drawl. Abbie knew it was a bad idea. Whatever she was feeling, years under her parents’ tutelage had given her a horror of unrestrained songs, which might swell the sea or call a plague of sea lice.
Yet while they’d talked, Abbie had barely contained an urge to sing for the girl right there on the stones. The swell inside her had tested the limits of her control.
Storm Surge, Chapter 2
