Valk’s End will be the next book I release on Amazon, in a little over two weeks. Here is a sneak peak at it, though it’s just a peak I hope you enjoy!
The green grass bowed to the wind as it blew northward over the knoll where the couple lay, side by side. It swept over the crest, carrying with it the aroma of wildflowers — daffodils, lilacs and other early spring blooming flowers, and into the Valkenweald below the other side, rustling the branches and shaking off the newly growing leaves of the oak and sycamores that lay at the treeline, and rattling the limbs like bones. The chill of winter still held in the air, but the sun beat down in warm golden rays, that embraced the two like long lost friends. It was a beautiful day: one of the most beautiful in recent history, in fact, and the first day that spring had begun to show it’s face to the people of the valley of the year.
But he didn’t notice these things. No. He didn’t notice the natural perfumes of spring swelling around him, enticing him, or the wind spirit that stopped on it’s way northward to watch the two on the hill. No. All he noticed was her.
Serenity lay on the grass, the red tinge of her auburn locks, contrasted with the green of the blades of grass all around. Oh, how he could wrap those locks between his fingers. Her hand was extended upwards, and her finger was tracing pictures that he would never be able to see in the clouds. Oh, how long and elegant they were, like the reaching twig of a pine tree, or the frosty fingers of winter stretching off an awning. How he longed to entwine them in his.
“There’s its ears,” she said, drawing two long oblong triangles at the top of the fluffy cloud that was just now floating overhead, “it’s head,” a smaller oval, “it’s body,” a much larger one just beneath that, “and it’s tail,” a stunted rounded thing at the bottom of its ‘body.’
But he didn’t pay attention to that, no. Instead he paid attention to the way her lips danced one her face like a pair of rose petals afloat in an alabaster sea. Oh, how he wished he could clasp them in his.
And her eyes, oh her eyes. How the clouds were like ships with white, billowy sails on the horizon over a fathomless sea. Oh, how he could get lost in them for the rest of his life.
“Do you see?” She turned her head to face him.
He turned his neck as quickly as he can to face back up at the sky: an ember must have been set just beneath the skin of his cheeks. Oh how they burned!
“Y-yeah.” He lied.
She lay quietly, watching his eyes dart from the sky back to his peripheries.
“Liar.” She said, her voice lilting with a harrumph. “You weren’t paying attention.”
“I was,” he said.
“Prove it. What was the last thing I saw?” ”