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 22, 2014.

  • Today’s math: (22-1-7=14). I began with the date (22), then subtracted the month (1), and then the digits of the year (2+0+1+4=7).
  • Today’s WIPpet is 14 sentences.

Henry and Tisira have a bit of a fan club amongst the #WIPpeteers, so we’ll stay withTrueborn 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 awakening alone at the cottage, and confused…

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

Nockatee half-awoke, and for a thirtybreath,she hovered between worlds, Burning with Father’s soulfires, chilled through to the marrow. Then, a nightbird’s sharp trill roused her, and she was awake,huddled and shivering on cold, damp earth.

A tenbreath later, she recognized the scent, and knew that she was on the floor of the cottage, lengthening shadows her only covering, for she was naked. She did not remember coming here. Had she not been Hunting?

But Henry was not here, and hadn’t been, since they left, by the scent. In the bond, she could feel him -all worry for her that he tried to cover – that she would find where she belonged, and leave him behind; that she had come to some terrible harm in the woodlands.

His fears tangled with her own – the words, that were old, heard in Father’s deep, calm voice as she fell asleep in the cupboard in his office, but new-writ in the book Henry had given her. And the stars – the wrong stars, she knew, without knowing how the stars could be wrong, or what was wrong about them.

She lay, without moving except for her body’s trembling, and waited for the answers to come, for another hundredbreath

Sima garo will provide. There are always possibilities.

So whispered the voices of her parents in her soul. Perhaps they were true whispers; for memory began to form around her presence here, in the cottage she and Henry had shared. She had come to these Huntlands, alone,with herself her quarry.

Nockatee is finding answers, but each seems only to bring more questions. Will these prove the same, or will she finally be able to put the pieces together, and puzzle out an answer?

And here’s a song that might offer Nockatee some hope, as she wrestles with all she remembers, and all she doesn’t know…

Want more WIPpets?

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