Apologies and junk

First off, my sincerest apologies for not being around much lately. As per the fairly recent blog about moving, you may have guessed that I’m, well, moving. This is the first ever time, so it’s a bit stressful. Next week I’m shifting all my shit into a new place and getting organized, so I can’t promise to be around much until I get all my shit together. That being said, I’m moving into my own place all by my onesie, so it’ll be a buttload of fun once I get there!

In the meantime, have a clip of new characters from an as-of-yet-untitled Changeling threequel.

Something tickled his nose, and he glanced up. The sky had been grey and overcast all day, but now as night was approaching it was beginning to look ominous. Snow had been expected, but not so soon. It was time to go home.

He cupped his hand around his mouth and called, “Astrid!”

His voice echoed off the bare rocks and trees, bouncing back and forth until it faded into ghosts. He counted the seconds while he waited—it was nearly forty-five before he got a reply.

“Yes, brother?” A fair head popped over a rock and the body of his sister soon followed.

“Do you see the snow?” He gestured around him. The snow was thin still, but falling fairly steady now. It wouldn’t be long until the night was thick with it, and then it would be impossible to get home.

Astrid’s lips twisted and she crawled over the rock, hauling a large leather sack behind her. “Snow? I see no snow.”

He smiled. “Right, sister. Come along, then. Father will be expecting us home soon, and I have no desire to sleep in the cold.”

The smirk turned into a grin, and she shoved the sack into his arms as she walked past him. The sudden weight of it nearly knocked him into a tree.

“Ah, yes, home,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Home, where you can fall asleep not in the cold and snow, but with a bellyful of mead and a girl on your cock.”

He bit the inside of his lip and hauled the sack onto his back to follow her to their sledge. It was impossible to miss her even in the growing night; her silhouette was still visible, but she made enough noise to follow even in the darkest light. He held his breath and bypassed a dry twig to better hear, and just as he thought, she was singing a lullaby—her favourite, the one about the little girl who brought fish to a wolskhund and was too stupid to realize that the wolskhund was going to eat them both.

“You make enough noise for a bear, sister!” he called, grinning to himself.

She stuck her arm in the air and made a rude gesture. “Bears are elegant creatures,” she shouted back at him. “The noblest, I think.”

He laughed at that and dumped the sack on the sledge. It was nearly full; it had been a good two days of hunting for them both, and they could return home satisfied. “They are fat and lazy, sister. That is not noble,” he pointed out, and pulled off his fur glove to brush hair away from his face.

“They are clever and wise,” she said, lifting her nose in the air. “What other creature is clever enough to wait in the stream for their prey to come to them?”

“The ones who know how to hunt,” he replied.

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