The horse and I took a few baby steps last week. And so Petra Rising proceeds. Really, really slowly, but it proceeds. Here’s Magic Meter:
Baby steps, man. Baby steps.
On the plus side, I broke 10K words. So that’s something.
Your snippet:
Allons said, “Do you know what today is?”
Ferson tensed, as if Allons had just sprung a pop quiz on him. In the desolation of Farside, it was easy to lose track of days. He considered a lighthearted response, decided against it. Humor would probably not play well at the moment. He figured simple honesty would be his best option. “No. Some special occasion?”
Allons snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.” He reached for one of the bottles, but only stroked the side of it. “Real special occasion, Boll. It’s ten years to the day that we attacked Mainland.”
“Oh. Jesus.” Ferson dropped his gaze. At least he understood Allons’s dark mood now. It wasn’t the kind of anniversary anyone in New Cassea was likely to celebrate. “Ten years.”
“Yeah. I keep track of this shit. Someone has to.”
No updates for Write Club.
Giddy-up. Or something like that.
