A beautifully written extract. Check it out.
In my fantasy world, the Hungry Moon ushers in the thaw. Days lengthen, trees blossom and nature knits an emerald coverlet over the wilderness. The blues and grays of winter surrender to a tapestry of fresh color, and the sun rolls around like an old friend. Yet, this is a hungry time, winter’s stores dwindling, the cellars and cupboards bare. The fields lie sodden and fallow, new crops a distant dream. The warming sun promises fiddleheads and dandelion greens, nettle and chickweed, wild pickings filling aprons for empty bellies. For the poor, it’s a thin, lean time, a cruel tease of the spring to come.
The Hungry Moon rises on March 23rd. Hang in there, spring will come.
Excerpt from the Hungry Moon, Eye of Blind
The hut warm, Starling listened to the timbre of Gallard’s voice, his feelings carried through the air. She heard the news as…
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