Chapter Thirteen

I’m sitting under a mountain ash with bright red-orange berries peering out from its slender, green leaves. Sometimes I’m so descriptive I don’t know why I don’t become a poet. Can’t be bothered I suppose. It’s such hard work. Tygar is cropping the grass down like there’s no tomorrow and I’m feeling absolutely gorgeous. There’s a magpie hopping around on the ground beside Tygar. I wonder if he lives along this stretch of the path? I’ve come out of the village you see, down towards the ford. But I don’t fancy meeting the Smith today. I just want to be by myself. Mrs Alun was very insistent that I rode through the village and not out by Merlin’s oak. I think she thinks the farmers will get me. Huh! Farmers! So Tygar and I have ensconced ourselves in a sunny glade just off the path and I’ve brought some lunch with me.
I’ve been asleep. Tygar is drowsing in the shade. The magpie has gone. Voices woke me I’m sure. Men’s voices droning in the distance. I can hear footsteps on the path …
This is an excerpt from my novel Dragonscale Leggings
You can read an excerpt from Chapter Nine at a previous Wednesday Words blog.
Visit My Books to watch the video and find out more about this novel!.
© Freya Pickard 2014
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