Father Sun had neared his peak when the girl in the clearing stirred.
Stretched across the ankle-high grass, her initial shiftings were indiscernible beneath the black cloak that swathed her. As vigorous ripples of activity shifted through the garment however, it loosened and slowly unravelled. A bare pair of legs slid into the open and a solitary figure unfolded from it in a series of awkward angles.
Lying face down in the flattened grass, the dark-haired girl who’d emerged, raised her head to peer at the forest standing twenty paces away. A long moment passed as she stared blankly at the trees, engrossed by the shifting depths of its mottled browns and greens, the smooth sway of branches that throbbed with the sound of birdlife.
This is the opening scene to Liath Luachra: The Great Wild, a novella that I’m hoping to complete by the end of next month.
It’s probably been influenced (to a degree) by some of Alessio Albi’s beautifully moody works (attached)
