Olgar Shiverstone
Legend
Below is the draft opening for a bit of fiction whose concept I've been toying with. Without going in to any of the specifics -- not wanting to spoil anything -- from reading just what I've provided:
- What have you learned about the characters and action?
- Does what you read interest you enough that you'd read more?
Trying to gauge some initial reaction before doing any more writing. Thanks.
- What have you learned about the characters and action?
- Does what you read interest you enough that you'd read more?
Trying to gauge some initial reaction before doing any more writing. Thanks.
Sample said:The hawk wind ripped its cold and brutal talons through my fur as it entered the plane, the opening ramp letting in first tendrils of frigid air followed by a veritable blast of it. My coat kept most of it at bay, but I could see the men ahead of me, crouched near the descending ramp, shiver as it caressed them. Danny too shivered behind me, though not violently.
We shifted slightly as the plane made a correction, swaying ponderously. The men ahead of us, swaddled with gear, moved easily with the slight vibration. Danny swayed more, less used to the movement and burdened with my own harness as well as his own chute, pack, emfor, and other gear. I tried to push back closer to steady him, but my short legs could not get purchase, and all I succeeded in doing was spinning my legs in the air and threatening to knock us over backwards into the man behind Danny. Danny patted my head, and I calmed down. He checked my harness and goggles, wrapping his arms closer to steady me.
Ahead, the darkness of the plane gave way to pale moonlight splashing across snow-capped peaks far, far below. We were so far up all I could see looked like a white rumpled blanket, flecked with some dark specks. The earth slipped by peacefully, the drone of engines the only sound aside from the occasional click of metal on metal. Scents were still strong, though the inrushing hawk had diminished them some. Sweat, nervous perspiration, mostly, was strong, but there was none of the acrid stink of fear-scent. I could smell the grease and fluids that made the plane run, and the smoky dirty breath of the plane’s engines entered the plane with the outside air. Danny’s scent was close and reassuring, mixed with the smooth slick smell of the oil on his emfor and some burnt powder from insufficient cleaning. I could smell the findit rag in his pocket, the treats and my tuggie in one of his pouches, and tried to commit the findit scent to memory.
A small pale light gleamed by the open ramp. One of the men near the front leaned out, looked back and forth, and waved an arm in the air. The light winked out, replaced by one below it, and one by one the men ahead of us stepped off of the end of the ramp and disappeared into the moonlit night beyond.
Danny started shuffling his feet forward, and soon we stepped on to the ramp where the hawk wind howled and suddenly all I could smell was airplane breath.
“Here we go, Riley,” I heard Danny whisper.
I gave a bark of joy, and we leaped into the abyss.