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#IDTHSOLITARYROAD CHAPTER EXCERPT TEASER FROM S.I.Hayes In Dreams... The Solitary Road

In Dreams... The Solitary Road Chapter Teaser 

To be Released October 2013

Within a day, the Pride picked up camp, ready for the month long journey back to their home at the base of the Braithorian Mountain Range. Since Amara was in no condition to walk, Graw pulled her behind him in a cart of furs and pelts, which helped to keep her warm. It was mid-winter, and the days were short, and often filled with snow showers, some light, others blinding, but the Raepuwa were built for their environment, to their surprise, Amara was able to succeed in the harsh land, putting up with Bas a’ Rhinn, and his nightly treatments. By weeks end, her voice returned, and the Pride was eager to hear her tale of the incident at the cavern.

The moment she told of the thing knowing what was in her mind, the group became uneasy, telling her that what she had encountered was what they called an Echo. Not using the word, as she knew it, this creature, which none had ever seen, was known to torment the minds of travelers forcing them over the cliffs. Although it stayed quiet when faced with a group, which was why they never traveled alone.

#IDTHESOLITARYROAD New Ch Excerpt... Teaser

      ..... She sat at the edge of the Tree pool watching as brilliant purple flowers floated on the still water when Elder came to sit by her side.

      

      He watched as she hardly glanced at him and only seemed to be concerned with the stillness around.

      

     “What has turned you so cold?” He asked finally.

      

      “What do you call those flowers on the water?” She seemed to ignore his question just as easily as she avoided talking about home.

      

       “They are called Padma. They flow swiftly down the river here and deposit in the pool, they are said to bring good fortune... But Amara, I have been trying to speak with you, on behalf of the others for many days now. And for many days, you have simply changed the subject. We are not ones to pry, but we do prefer to know more about where one comes from when they come to us. Surely, you can understand, we do not leave this place. So we crave knowledge of those we house beneath our canopy.”

Chapter One Except... Fully Edited Proof

In Dreams... The Solitary Road Ch. Excerpt 

The World of In Dreams...

IDTSR UPDATE

In Dreams... The Solitary Road

Update

Keep your eyes open, as In Dreams... The Solitary Road hit's shelves in OCTOBER!!! 

           So this is the official cover for In Dreams... The Solitary Road, I am so honored that +Eri Nelson was kind enough to work with me on it. I do believe we managed an awesome bit of Art. Anyhow, we are now in BETA reading. Still ironing out a few typos, but I'm sure I'll miss a few.. Ahh.. The trials of being an Indy Author. Perfection is what we strive for, but none, not even the big Publishing houses ever achieve it. It make me wonder...

     Do we strive fro perfection because we should for ourselves, or because it's what's expected? Can a reader see past the occasional misplaced coma or long sentence, and just get lost in the tale? Is it the grammar or is it the content that makes or breaks a book? I don't know. There are some authors out there that have made a lot of money and are in my opinion terrible writers, and it has nothing to do with their spelling. 

       I don't mind long descriptions, hell I'm notorious for them. I can get lost in dialogue for hours if the conversation is good. It's like being a fly on the wall, and sometimes if it's really well done, those thoughts you have and remarks you want to make are made by the characters themselves. That's what makes a great tale to me. When an Authors manages to think far enough ahead to anticipate a readers reaction, and give them what they want. It's hard to do, but that is what I strive for.

          It's my reason for the BETA phase. To pick the brain of a variety of people, from different demographics in order to see how they compare the tale. I want to engage, and tell a story that intrigues, pulls you in, and lets you displace your reality, if only for awhile. This is my idea of perfection... 

What's yours?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In Chapter Thirteen  Portia's plans to deal with Amara begin to unfold, and an interesting bit about Graw in revealed, before the King of the Western Ridge Pride finds something else to do with his day... Come take a peek at the raw footage...

CHAPTER 13

      In the months that followed, Amara, at the request of Bas a’ Rhinn, spent considerable time in a cave near to where Graw’s home stood at the base of the mountain. For the safety of the Raepuwa town, she was to use it as a place to reflect and practice her craft. They found that fire was not her only talent. She was balanced, as many never were. Fire and Ice came to her in equal measure, tied directly to her emotions. Anger was combustive while her sorrow brought bitter cold. Bas a’ Rhinn taught her to channel, to perform small meditations to focus her feelings. To make her desires second nature, her thoughts had to become instincts that she could call up when she pleased, not only when needed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Join me in a tale of the First Raepuwa Pride. As the images pour forth from the smoky lips of Bas a' Rhinn, Portia schemes and Amara finds a new "talent." As always comments and critiques are encouraged.

CHAPTER TWELVE

           Outside the mediation chamber of Bas a’ Rhinn, the Raepuwa danced and mingled. The Homecoming Celebration had begun, the mornings dissent becoming a far memory for most of them. It was the beginning of the Prides season of leisure. Throughout the short spring and summer, they worked hard, gathering produce, hunting and fishing the melted bogs and streams of the land. Trading with the other Prides, for what items they could not retrieve on their own, due to strictly adhered to territory treaties. They had no system of commerce between them; each Pride was governed by a lead pair, who was responsible for the community.  They kept the territory lines and commanded the sentries at their lands borders. Keeping a fragile kind of peace, that for the Northern Ridge Pride was often tested by those of the Western Ridge. Their leader Kai occasionally sending sentries and hunting parties into the valley in attempts to gain acreage. 

         This was why Bas a’ Rhinn wanted Amara.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter 11 while short is meant to be no less heated as the last, albeit the flames are of anger, jealousy, and vengeance. The lines are now being drawn across the snow...

                                           CHAPTER 11

          “She’s got to go! Do you see? Can’t you see? Look what she did to me! She’s a liar! She claimed she needed help from you, Bas a’ Rhinn. But she did fine all by herself, now didn't she?” Portia was standing in the square, screaming and hissing. Showing off the charred flesh of her arms. Having drawn a crowd, as the Raepuwa left their dwellings to start the homecoming celebration. This was supposed to be a time of laughter, it was tradition, but after the nights events it was shaping up to be a lynching.

CHAPTER TEN

WARNING: This Chapter is not suitable for person's under the age of 17. Nor frankly is any of my work, as it contains situations of a sexual and or violent nature.
In this next chapter the heat that has been building threatens to overflow... Enjoy. :)

CHAPTER TEN

           Feeling refreshed and full of a vigor she had not known in some time, Amara sat up, in the now dark room. Before falling asleep, she had forgotten to look for a means of light. She opened the shutters on the window, and the moon filled the room with enough light that she could find her boots and the exit. Quietly, she crept out into the main room, and out the front door. She had expected it to be freezing, but the temperature was oddly comfortable. She looked up, the sky was clear for the first time in as long as she could remember. It seemed that since leaving her home, a night had not gone by without clouds, or heavy snows which kept her eyes from seeing a single star.

              But there they were. She did not need to know the constellations, to be happy in their company. When she was young, they were often her companions on nights when she could not sleep, nights when even the charm did not protect her from waking up in a fit. Even then, she would sneak out into the warm air, and stand staring until her neck could no longer hold her head. Always with a feeling of mixed sadness and awe. Her grandfather Nathan had once told her that her people were there. That those who went on before her looked down, that the twinkle was their smiles, letting loved ones know they were never truly gone. Would if she could have believed it. Sometimes she convinced herself that it was true, and for a moment, she did not feel so alone. Even after meeting Lexan, there was this emptiness inside and she wondered if it would ever be filled.

               She looked around, hearing laughter, and snorts, her eyes settling on a building with a torch light outside. Inside through the glass pane windows she could see Raepuaw having a merry time. Drinking and carrying on. She made her way across the square, and was about half way to the place when she heard glass bottles clanking. Looking just past the place between it and another building, she spotted Graw, his arms full stacking crates.

              Hastily she ducked behind a stone bench in the square, making herself small, so he would not see her. She wasn't ready for a confrontation, not yet, maybe not ever. She watched as he wiped his hands on his pants before disappearing back inside the building once more. A long sigh, escaped her, the breath streaming from her dry lips.

                 “Out for a stroll?” A voice came from the silence, startling her.

              Amara turned around in the bench facing the sound, to find Portia leaning against one of the caravans still in the square, as she tied up her pants. “So there I was, having a romp, and I see you go flitting by without a care in the world.”

              “I was just getting some air.”

            “Looks to me more like you were hiding from Graw.” She pointed beyond Amara to the building. Amara turned seeing him inside. He seemed to be staring out the window from behind the counter. “Next time I’d try being up wind, before hiding like an idiot.”

              “What is your issue with me? From the moment I opened my eyes in your camp, you have been nothing but rude to me.” Amara asked, sitting up, figuring there was no use in trying to hide.

              “You, humans, act like you have no idea, but really? You’re all schemers. You look at us and shout monster, animal. But then you realize we’re like you where it matters and suddenly you’re intrigued and disgusted at the same time. Your men poison and rape us, to see what it’s like. And women like you? Well you've just got to bat those eyes and go all helpless and our men fall all over themselves.” She was crossing the length between them.

               “I did nothing of the kind.” Amara defended. “I'm sorry if you think that I have done anything to make anyone fall over themselves. I was very fortunate that your Pride found me; it was your Shaman who insisted he could help me. I have no intentions of taking anything that does not belong to me.”

            “Your intentions do not matter. When we love, it is for life. And you've two of us smitten. If I had my-” Portia stopped, in mid-step. Suddenly the words died in her throat.

               In tears, Amara gasped, as Graw leapt over the bench with a snarl. Taking Portia by the throat. He snapped his jaws shut. The collision of his teeth together echoing through the suddenly still air.

               Raepuwa came out of the busy building. Watching as he held her down. Still growling. Portia did not move. She did not fight him. She submitted. Arms at her side. A low hiss came from the caravan. Graw turned his head to see Portia’s companion Mao. On all fours, the hair on his back standing, as he made sure steps toward them. With Graw distracted, Portia reached up suddenly clawing at his face. Graw reared up. Swatting Portia hard enough that saliva sprayed from her mouth. Mao charged. Dirt and snow kicked up behind him. Graw tossed Portia to the side as if batting a fly and made ready his defense for the charged assault. They collided, up in the air. Then standing. But Graw would not budge. They were about the same size, and should have been evenly matched. Mao bared his teeth and dug his claws into Graw’s back. Trying to get a better hold of him.

                The crowd from the building started hissing and snarling. Egging the two on. Amara looked behind her. It seemed the entirety of the place watched on. None caring to stop it. Enjoying the fight. It looked like Graw had the upper hand until Portia jumped in. Grabbing him by the neck and digging her hind claws into his back. Graw let out a roar. That shook snow from the trees. But still no one stepped in. Amara jumped up. She knew this was her fault. 

              She had to do something...

             Grabbing Portia by the length of hair that ran down her back Amara gathered it into her hand and yanked. Portia twisted, pouncing on Amara. Pinning her down. Panicked Amara screamed. Catching Portia’s razor clawed hands as she went for Amara’s face.

               “I’ll make it so no one will want you!” Portia sneered.

            “Not likely.” Amara strained. Channeling her thoughts of fire. Like Bas a’ Rhinn had been showing her. Suddenly Portia screamed. The smell of burning hair filled Amara’s nostrils. Where she had been holding Portia was in flames. The Raepuwa jumped back, trying desperately to douse the flames. Amara scurried up on to her knees. With a twist of her left arm, fire rushed toward Graw and Mao. Exploding in a liquid spray just beyond them. Mao jumped up as it went past and Graw pushed him into the molten debris. As Mao rolled in the snow screaming, Graw turned his attention to Amara. Still moving he raced right at her, as some of the Raepuwa came toward her. Scooping her up into his arms, he kept running. Past all of them. Even as Portia screamed for aid. They were not followed. The others too shocked at what had happened.

****

           Graw did not stop until they were in a building on the Mountain edge of town. Finally, he put Amara down, to try and catch his breath. He panted with his head between his knees. Amara did not know what to say. She had not meant to do what she did; all she knew was that she had to do something. She headed for the sink, taking a towel and drenching it with cold water. She returned to him, putting the rolled towel on the back of his neck. He winced, the water catching the claw marks.

           “I'm sorry.” Amara gently whimpered.

           He did not respond. Just took the towel and wiped at his face. When he looked up again Amara was back in his kitchen, clanking around in the cabinets. He pushed himself up. Watching as she put a large bowl on the table and turned the single chair around.

            “Sit.”

             He snorted, with a shake of his head, but did as she asked. She tore what was left of his shirt. Exposing the multiple gnashes on his back. Mao and Portia having done a fine job of shredding it. 

             Is this what I look like? She wondered as she dabbed another clean rag in the water and stared wiping at the blood. The cuts were not deep, but they were many. “It’s not so bad, once I clean up the blood. You probably won’t even notice them once they heal.” Her voice was flat. Trying to hide the fear that scratched its way to the surface.

              Graw dropped his shoulders sadly.

              “You seem disappointed.”

              He gestured widely. “After all that! To come away with out a scar...Pointless.”

           Amara smiled shortly without answer; just finished cleaning up his back. Then went back to the sink for fresh water.

            Graw watched her, silently. He wished that he had words for her. For the first time he found fault in his form. Before this woman there was no doubt, no longing. She had him twisted up inside. There were no gestures in Raepuwa for what he felt. Only actions. Caresses. Contacts that they made. He had tried that, and she had shunned him since. Enwa had received a kind rejection, but not he.

           When Amara turned back toward him, he righted himself. But she had seen his long staring reflection in the windowpanes. Walking around the table to him, she looked down at him, and around the large but empty space. At the table, there was only the single chair, the same for the wood stove in the center room. In Khane’s home, there had been cushions and chairs. Seating for a family. But here there was none. The cabinets had items to spare, but most things were collecting dust.

             “You’re all alone out here?” She whispered.

         He nodded. “Just me.” His shoulders shrugged, and again he winced, blood dripped from the scratches on his face.

         Amara went to the wood stove. Reaching inside she grabbed the bits of wood, and a fire quickly stoked. Returning to the table she sat down on the ice cold stone floor in front of him with the bowl and cloth. She lifted his head, and he averted his eyes as she wiped the blood from his face.

        “You may just get your wish on those scars; I don’t think I can stop the bleeding. Should I get Bas a’ Rhinn?”

         Graw licked the backside of his hand, and rubbed it against his wounds several times.

         “Stop you’ll make it worse!” She protested.

        He looked at her, rolling his orange eyes slightly. After a moment not only was his face clean, but the bleeding had completely stopped. “We’re built to fix these things.”

         Looking up at him, a wry smile crossed her face. He returned the smile with his tooth-filled grin.

           “I'm sorry for how I've treated you. If I had not, maybe this wouldn't have happened.”

            He shrugged. “It was coming.”

      “All my being here has done is hurt people. I was not exaggerating when I said everything I touch burns.”

           His features softened, and he reached out to wipe a tear from the smooth skin of her cheek. His fingers were... Flesh. His caress... Tender. Amara closed her eyes. Her body moved toward him. He dropped down from the chair to his knees.

            Amara ran her hands gingerly down his back. The hair bristled, as he rolled his shoulders toward her touch. His rough tongue caressed the length of her neck. An erupting  gasp sprang forth from her. He pulled her top free. Lowering her to the floor. His tongue was like fine sandpaper, making its way down to her small but firm breasts. When he suckled gently on them, she shuddered in delight. Feeling his teeth as they grazed, her tender flesh. He stopped. Lifting her, to caress down her back, then hesitated.

                “I'm okay.” She urged him. Pulling his head down, she kissed his forehead. Her knee moving up his thigh, finding hardened pulsing flesh. She rolled her eyes down. Feeling his proportions. A quicksilver shiver raced through her aching loins. He pulled her pants down over her lifting hips. Amara’s chastity belt challenged him. Flicking a claw against it filled the room with a metallic clink.

                Amara opened her eyes at the sound. Remembering that the key was in her pocket. As she had yet to find a safer place for it. She backed away, Graw right behind her, loosening his pants. She fumbled with the chastity belt. Unable to steady her hands. The only man she had ever given her self to had been Lexan, and she had married him. But this, this was not a man. This was more... Animal. What would happen if she allowed this? Was she really so profane?

            He took the key as her hands found their way to his ever-engorged manhood. He freed her body from its metal and leather prison. His tongue working in long laps against her most tender skins. She moaned longingly. He was teasing her. Then he pulled her, propping her up against the table. Sitting her upright. Her legs trembled as she quaked against him. Grasping the table legs, as the first orgasms came. Her moans falling with heavy breaths. He brought her closer. Working her swollen clitoris with aggressive agility. Letting her peak again, before sliding back on his haunches. Amara opened her eyes, looking at him. He waited for her to calm.

          Crawling to him on unsure limbs, she slinked like a Raepuwa. Further fueling his feverish lust. He grabbed her. Pulling her high on to her knees. Running the tip of his bestial flesh up and down her warm dripping lips. Paying close attention to her whimpers. Just as she was to climax again, he broke her barrier. In a single hard, push. The moment of pain to Amara was the greatest of pleasures. Her muscles shifted. Opening up to him with each slide and thrust. He purred as they moved. Every inch of his body vibrating. Sending sensations through Amara. She felt as though she was going mad. Indeed, she believed that if this went on much longer she would become his willing slave.

          “No more.” She cried. But he was not finished with her yet. 

          He crushed her against him. Wrapping his strong arms around her. Bringing her up and down with unbridled urgency as he pumped deep inside. Once... Twice... And then a third and final time, before she felt him go soft. His thick fluid running down their thighs. He held her close. Keeping inside of her, with slow strong strokes. Even soft, he had size enough to keep her trembling as she leaned against his chest. 

        She buried her face in the soft warm fur of his neck. Still feeling the hot liquid as it fought to escape. A small troubled laugh broke through her lips as she looked at him. His crystalline eyes seemed to smile. The pupils half moons. Beyond him, outside the mountains and the sky.

          “I can’t put you with child. If that’s your trouble.” He lowered his eyes in shame. “It’s why I have no woman in the Pride.”

          Amara rubbed her face against his, letting her lip curl upward. His whiskers tickling her ear, as she purred in his.

          “Actually, I was thinking about that sky full of stars.”

Chapter Nine

In this latest chapter The Pride Group finally reaches it's destination in the Braithorian Mountains, and Amara finds that civilization is more than a point of view... 

CHAPTER NINE

                Amara stayed away from Graw after that night, staying with Khane for the rest of their journey, who did not question the move. Occasionally she spotted Graw up ahead as he pulled his share in the cart, and when they made camp she purposely avoided him, keeping with Bas a’ Rhinn, and with the unyielding push of the Shaman, it took little time before Amara was able to conjure up fire. So long as she had something, likened to kindling. When she did, the fires burned hotter and longer than any made by flint and steel, as such she was tasked with conjuring the Bonfires at night.

Chapter Eight

This chapter pushes Amara's lines of perception, her time with the Raepuwa, notably Graw is quickly changing her thoughts and actions. And the heat is building, but will it ever be satiated? 

CHAPTER 8

        While the Raepuwa cleaned themselves and each other with licks and paws, Amara did not warm up to the idea, even as Graw offered.

        “A bath, Graw, like with warm water and a tub.” She winced gently pushing his head away from her face, even as he tried to lick the blood of the animal from her brow.

        He pulled back, a determined look on his face as he stood upright, looking left then right. “One. Wait here.” His gestures demanded as he set off toward the cart that held his tent and wares. He picked up the large barrel that held the tent and rods when in transit, dumping the contents on the ground before bounding back to Amara, putting it down in front of her.

         “And what is that?”

        “A Tub?”

        Her face was a half turned smile. “Uh huh, and where-“

        Graw grabbed her by the arm dragging her and the barrel down to where the bonfire was being started. She watched as he took the piles of cleared snow and scooped it up filling the barrel. It made sense to her; the barrels were once used for wine. So melted snow would be of no problem. Once the barrel was full, Graw left it where it stood. Taking Amara back to aid him in building their tent, of which she mostly watched, although healed, the exertion of skinning the Woolenbeasts left her tender. Just as he was finishing up, and getting ready to move his things inside Khane appeared with Enwa, turning Amara’s attention.

****

        “Come with us?” Khane asked as Enwa kept his gaze to the ground.

         Amara got up from the blanket, following the pair back to Khane’s tent. Of the Pride group, Khane and Graw were the ones who regularly engaged her. The Shaman Bas a’ Rhinn, having made it clear he wanted no part of her. Inside Khane’s tent, Amara was nervously surprised to find him, smoking a pipe, awaiting her arrival. Khane and Enwa dropped their hands to the ground, their heads low and hindquarters high, Enwa’s tail curling downward and to the right. This was the Raepuwa way of bowing. Amara bowed her head, bending as much from the middle as she was able.

         A low double snort came from Bas a’ Rhinn, she had often heard this from Graw, and knew it to be their equivalent to a laugh. She looked up, as he took in the smoke, his nostrils flaring.

        “Have you learned enough, they tell me you have proved useful to us?” Bas a’ Rhinn asked, ending his gestures bidding the other two rise.

         “As useful as I can be.” Amara answered calmly, glancing to Khane and Enwa, who appeared to smile.

        “You could be of greater use; we did after all save you, as Enwa here has reminded us.”

        Khane pushed Enwa into a subservient sit. “Do you think this youth speaks out of place?” Khane asked. “He nearly cost us our celebrations tonight, what Amara, do you think should be done to such an insolent whelp?”

       Unease crept over Amara, as she looked at them puzzled. “Why ask me? He is not speaking an untruth, only pointing out the obvious debt that I owe.”

       “Are you not a leader where you come from?” Bas a’ Rhinn questioned. “Is that on your thighs flesh not the mark of a High Priestess?”

       Her chest tightened, her breath halted, as she searched for an answer. It was true that she bore the glyph of the High Priestess, but she was not yet possessor of the title.

      “We have not told the others of the Pride, do not worry for your safety, but we must know if it is true that a summoner has come from the Lost Isle.” Bas a’ Rhinn leaned toward her, using the end of his pipe to lift her skirt enough to see the tattoo.

       Amara jerked backward. “I am from De’ Corlen, but am far from its leader or summoner. I do not know what you want from me, in regards to each, but I assure you there is little I can do in either respect.”

      “But they aim to keep you wounded.” Khane stopped her, we tried to take the object from your arm, but it would not come, it has a mind of its own, as though the insect still lives.” From inside her cloak she pulled the jar that held the Queen Hymenopteria, still encased in the Trialade. “This is how we knew from where you came. These only live on the lost Isle.”

       Amara hesitated briefly, seeing the Queen again, causing her to think of horrors she wanted to forget. “I am thankful for your aid and allowing me to remain with you, but as you know I am quite alone. Now, if there is something I can do to return your kindness as I am, I will try, but I do not speak for the isle, and am only a Priestess by tutor.”

       “Do you not have an opinion on how Enwa should be dealt with? Have you no knowledge on the subject?”

       “If it were left to me, I would consider that no one was hurt by his words or his actions. From what I witnessed, it was his precocious action, which helped to divide the herd, and he, like Graw, made a killing blow. Perhaps, what he did could prove to be a useful tactic in future hunts.”

        Enwa lifted his gaze, his pale green eyes picking up the low fading rays of the sun that entered the tent beside him. Amara smiled small then looked back to Bas a’ Rhinn, who scratched his graying chin before responding.

        “Perhaps, you are correct. You did after all have an excellent vantage point, you’re honest, and merciful opinion satisfies my curiosity. You may have your weapons back.”

        Enwa moved behind Bas a’ Rhinn, and as he did so the Shaman ran a hand down his back gently, an act of acceptance and consolement. When Enwa turned back to face them he held Amara’s sword and dagger as well as a short bow and a bundle of arrows.

        Amara let out a gasp, her hands to her mouth. “I thought I’d lost them to the snow.”

       The three Raepuwa laughed. “The young one found them, because they, like you pulsed.” Khane assured her. “He is touched by the magic, like his father.”

        A stature of pride filled Bas a’ Rhinn, and Amara understood, this was his son, he was putting the fate of his own child in her hands to satisfy as he put it a curiosity. She wondered what would have happened had she made a cruel decision. Enwa handed the weapons to her, along with a bundle of clothes tied up.     

        When Amara took the bundles, he leaned in close to her, rubbing the side of his face against hers. His lip curled upward, leaving a small amount of saliva on her cheek.

       Her first instinct was to wipe it away, but Graw taught her that this touch was one of appreciation and affection; if she wiped it off in front of him, it would have been most offensive. She gathered the items into her left unaffected arm, before lightly stroking Enwa’s arm in a platonic “Thank you.”

       Enwa received the message; her return was to put the space of friends between them. Bas a’ Rhinn nodded to Khane who took Enwa away with a soft gliding of her tail, leaving Amara alone with the smoking Shaman.

       Bas a’ Rhinn checked her wounds, her back was more than well off now, but there was little he could do for her arm, except keep it wrapped up, so it would not continue to infect and weaken her. He believed that it was the reason she had such trouble with conjuring her magics, but also believed she could overcome it and gain at least some control.

        As to what transpired between her and Enwa, he assured her that the whelp would not try for her affections again. That her return was understood as a kind rejection. When they were back in their territory, in a few days he would help her to master her magic as much as he could, but for now, she should clean up before the festivities in whatever way she intended.

****

       Returning to the bonfire, Amara found that a curtain had been put up around it to afford her some privacy, and rocks arranged to let her step up and into the makeshift tub. She did not take long, although she would have liked to stay in the soothing water, the notion that there were so many around her keeping her anxious. It took only a few moments outside the barrel for the bonfire heat to air-dry her body as she took out the clothes. The key to her chastity belt falling out of the bundle. The useful item sending her back into the water.

****

         The clothes were a little large, but everything had ties, so she was able to keep it secure. Someone had fashioned a leather bodice and britches, which with their wide legs covered the tops of her boots. As she made her way back to Graw’s tent, it occurred to her that with a needle and thread she could easily make better use of the fabrics, especially if she were given the time. Her mind was so wrapped up in patterns and thoughts of colorful cloths that she did not realize that she had walked in on Graw while he was cleaning up from the days events.

         His back was to her and although he had no doubt heard her approach, he made no motion to acknowledge her as she rambled on about how she could help with the ill fitting clothes many of them wore. Tired of talking to his back, she stepped in front of him, and he rolled his eyes upward, as he licked down the length of his powerfully built thigh.

        “Oh! I'm s-s-orry!” Amara stammered, stepping away, turning a full flush, of all of him she spied, she realized in his total nakedness, that while much of him seemed feline, he was built like any human male, which quickly helped her to make the connection as to why they did in fact wear pants.

         Graw touched her leg and she turned her head slightly, the embarrassment radiated off of her and her temperature rose.

        “What’s there to be sorry for? You had your bath, so I was having mine.” He stood up, hunched slightly by the low point in the tent ceiling; he moved so as to right himself.

       “Yes, obviously, I'm sorry for not letting you have the time to finish... Privacy to finish.” She looked away again, but Graw turned her toward him, she kept her eyes high.

        He let out a snort. “Are all your women so ashamed of the uncovered form? We've adapted so you need not avert your eyes.” He grabbed her face, making her look at him.

       His black and white markings covered him entirely, but the fur that was covered most often by clothing was finer than that which was on his head, arms, and paws. The muscles of his chest and abdomen were the same as a man, but far better defined, and he had three sets of nipples that traveled down his length to... Nothing. Amara was at once confused, she knew what she had seen, but as she looked at him now, all that sat between his legs was barely haired skin. Her mouth hung open ever so slightly in question.

       “We are built like you and not, for necessity, but unless we are moved there is the protection of our form. We dress as men if only to add another barrier, while we journey.” He stepped toward her, as her eyes followed his speech. “We are more than capable of coupling when it suits us; it is why so many of our children can speak. We are feline, but also human.” He let out a low purr and Amara trembled.

         Her body and mind were in conflict, her heart thumped hard against her chest, she could hear the blood as it rushed through her ears. His breath was warm, and his grasp on her shoulders firm, as he rubbed his face against her as Enwa had.

        “Graw...Please, I can’t.” She pushed him away, her face visibly troubled, as she headed for the exit. “Everything I touch burns.”

Chapter Seven

This uncommonly short chapter builds upon the character development of Chapter Six, and we get a sense of who and what the Northern Ridge Pride is, what they are doing in the region as they prepare for a hunt. Amara is made aware of the Western Ridge Pride, a source of a drawn out feud, and finds herself of some greater use.

In Dreams The Solitary Road A Serial Novella By S. I. Hayes

Copyright 2013 Shannon I. Hayes

CHAPTER SEVEN

  

           With the ice sufficiently broken the questions were traded, it was explained to Amara that they called themselves Raepuwa, which roughly translated to Stripes and Spots, being the over all characteristic of many of the Pride group’s bodies of fur. Their colors ranged from Graw’s black and white stripe to tawny auburns and pale blondes. For the most part the males were not capable of speech, but the occasional throw back did occur. When it did, those males often ventured far beyond the scope of the rest of the Pride. The Pride group Amara traveled with was only a small part of the whole; they were thirteen in all, including Graw. The group had been traveling back on a supply run, gathering wood and stone for building and herbs for their specialty wines. Something Amara quickly came to appreciate. The wines were sweet and spicy, combined with cinnamon and allspice, bayberry, chokeberry and many other herbs. Each distinct, smooth and very potent, which came in rather handy, as it dulled Amara’s senses during her healing process. 

Chapter Six

Pain, survival, and scars. The introduction of characters who will carry the story with decriptions that I can see, but was hard pressed to decribe. Does it show that I may have stumbled or does the ferocity of the decriptions come across?

In Dreams The Solitary Road A Serial Novella By S. I. Hayes

Copyright 2013 Shannon I. Hayes

CHAPTER SIX

  

       The warmth was peculiar, Amara eyes strained in the low light around her; she found she was in a large tent made of well-tanned hide, outside, were the outlines of two tall figures. She scrunched her nose at the pungent muskiness of the animal furs on which she lay face down. There was a burning in her throat, and her body was wrecked by pain. She tried to call out, but no sound came. Again, she tried to lift her body, but fell back into the deep furs. This action forcing a hard yelp from her. The figures outside stopped moving, listening as it were, and finally Amara managed a weak almost inaudible “Hello?”

Chapter Five

When it rains it pours, or in this case snows, creeps and whispers. This was my attempt at filling the scenes with quiet terror, did I succeed?

In Dreams The Solitary Road A Serial Novella By S.I. Hayes

Copyright 2013 Shannon I Hayes

CHAPTER FIVE

  

      There it was again, that sound, a low and ominous... ‘Was it...Breathing?’ All around her in the closing dusk, in the tightness of the passage through the cliff there seemed to be something with Amara. She could not see it, but was sure something followed her. There was nothing more in front of her that she would not be able to see, but the twisting of the passage left overhangs and crevices that surely a most indigenous creature could use for its home. She tried not to think on it; rather she did make moves of more than the smallest of increments. Keeping herself flush with the flattest parts of the cliffs walls, she dared not look over its edge. Heights and Amara did not get along so well, she preferred to know that the ground was closely under her. It was not the fall, but the fear of surviving the splat that frightened her the most.

Chapter Four

Here we see that indeed Amara has people in her life who try to put her first, but she martyrs herself feeling deserving of the Queens Sting. Is her reasoning sound or should she have taken advantage of the offers given?

In Dreams The Solitary Road A Serial Novella By S.I. Hayes

Copyright: 2013 Shannon I Hayes 

CHAPTER 4

      “Wake up! Damn it Amara, it’s a nightmare!”

     Amara’s body flailed in Maggie’s hands, as she was shaken awake. Still screaming, Amara tore herself out of her friends grip and shot up to her feet.

     “Where?” She looked out of a port window realizing that they were in the air, and that Maggie had the wheel of the flyer tied to keep their course. “What happened?” She doubled over, a sharp itching pain filling her right arm. Lifting her long white sleeve, she could see the outline of the Queens stinger in her arm; the insertion point was red and swollen.

     “You were having a nightmare, not that I blame you.” Maggie pulled her light blonde hair back into a ponytail. “Listen, I'm really sorry, that accident...”

      “It wasn't an accident.”

Chapter Three

This chapter was meant to be a tension builder, setting the pace for some of the more intense scenes, does it live up to its role or fall flat? Inquiring minds want to know...

In Dreams The Solitary Road  A Novella By S.I. Hayes 

Copyright 2013 Shannon I. Hayes

Chapter Three

     It has happened again. A hive unhinged, the crowd attacked. Choking black clouds hang in the air like fruit not yet ready for the harvest. It has been two days since the incident, which devastated the Isle, and changed Amara's life forever.

Chapter Two

In this second chapter the villains are more clearly defined, in Beatrice and Rosaline and the spark of hope in Amara is made brighter by her lover, do you see her gaining strength with her actions ore does she appear to fall into the traps laid before her? Comments strongly urged.

In Dreams The Solitary Road  A Novella By S.I. Hayes 

Copyright 2013 Shannon I. Hayes

Chapter Two

   After the appeasement, many thought that Amara would have, should have, fallen into despair, but in so few years she had been loved enough to fill her heart with hope. While her mother and those elders collectively referred to as The Five, ran the Isle making sure that the men did not interfere in their politics, keeping them around as figureheads, and not allowing them any say traditionally, Amara found that it was the men who treated her the most kindly. This included Rosaline’s new husband. Jeremiah had only been dead four months, when Rosaline left the Isle, returning after six months with David. He was only seventeen, to Rosaline’s thirty-six but the man appeared to be smitten by the woman who was carrying his child.

Chapter One

Below you will find the First Chapter of my novella, my purpose other than to hopefully entertain is to also engage. Engage with others as to the readability, flow and building of the chapters. Does this openings feel like too much too soon? Is the picture painted with the delicacy of a chainsaw? All comments are encouraged.

In Dreams The Solitary Road  A Novella By S.I. Hayes

Copyright 2013 Shannon I. Hayes

Chapter One

   Some are born to happiness, others to sorrow. Some are affected by circumstance, while others rise above it. Yet out of the darkest beginnings a flame can begin, which can burn far brighter than any sun.