It’s #WIPpet Wednesday –K.L. Schwengel’s brainchild which encourages writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is January 15, 2014.

  • Today’s math: (1+15= 16). 1 for the month, 15 for the date.
  • Today’s WIPpet is 16 sentences.

Henry and Tisira have a bit of a fan club amongst the #WIPpeteers, so we’ll stay with Trueborn Weft series fantasy WIP, Chameleon’s Dish– at least until we get to a place where sharing might give too much away.

In the dangerously superstitious past of Shakespeare’s England, an amnesiac girl and a foundling boy must keep her strange nature hidden as they stalk her lost identity.

We find Tisira alone, Hunting the source of two strangely familiar scent-trails…

This snippet occurs immediately after my last WIPpet,ChangesChameleon’s Dish is the companion volume to Bounded by a Nutshell (Trueborn Warp series Star Trek fan fiction).

Tisira leapt into the nearest tree, to see if she could follow the scent trail from its branches,making making camouflaged travel a simpler matter.

Her breath caught in sudden dizziness, and she half-remembering falling through branches, with no ability to control her body or the way that it fell.But that was not now. She set herself, and climbed,despite the queasy complaints of her gut.

The spoor was still readable as it rose from the warming earth, and she followed it. The beings – a male and a female, she discovered, as she found the place where they had relieved themselves – had been casting to both sides of the trail, and were headed precisely in the direction of their cottage.

Tisira circled, leaping from tree to tree with breath held each time she was airborne;although none of the native animals were alerting, the scent was fresh, and they might yet be about. They were adults, and she had to assume, that they were stronger and held more knowledge than she. She couldn’t yet guess at what they wanted, but she knew that they were not from here, and their scent, although tickling memory, was not one she now knew.

When her spiraling path finally brought her within sight of the cottage, it was to find that the door was standing ajar on its leather hinges, when she knew Henry had closed and latched it against intruders. The owners of the strangely familiar scents had been here, and might still be – for she could not detect any sign that they had come out again.

She got to the last tree before the clearing where the cottage stood, and waited, crouched on a limb, watching for any telltale movement.

But there was none, and, although she watched for three sunlengths of the fading afternooning, no shadow moved, nor did any sound emerged from the cozy little home where she had first lived with her bondmate.

Tisira slunk out of the tree, and ducked into the tall grasses around the house, stalking slowly although she wanted to run, to storm inside, to demand explanations for the invasion into their lair….

But, when she finally got to the door, it was to find the cottage empty…..although their scent was heavy, in the small dampness of the shut-up cottage. She could tell where they had stepped, and what they had touched….and, in moments, she knew what they had taken….

What was taken? Why? And to where? Is there danger or salvation in the answers?

Come back next week to learn these answers….or to discover new questions…

And here’s a song that might appeal to Tisira, about now:

Want more WIPpets?