Snippet Saturday: Holiday Time

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This week the theme is holidays.

I've included several holidays in my work, but none so fabricated as the Wintertide holiday featured in A Spell for Susannah's Mother, the imaginatively titled prequel short story to A Spell for Susannah. If the King is fated to love thirteen women before he turns fifty, is he still husband material? One cold, wet Wintertide Eve, the Queen labors over the answer to her husband’s curse.

Here's the first couple pages:

***

The back of the King’s tawny fur coat disappeared around the corner, and the Queen maneuvered herself out from behind the flower seller’s cart before she lost sight of the sneaky bastard who called himself her husband.

The saleslady shot her a knowing look and selected a posy of small purple blooms, a Kingdom Foresta specialty in this cold, wintery season. “Might I interest you in Heartsease?”

“Thank you, no. I’m in a rush.” Normally the Queen would converse with the citizens, but right now she was both angry and incognito. Her lower back ached, and dirty road sludge weighed down her nondescript cloak and gown at the hem.

“I would be in a rush, too, were my babe due any day,” the seller observed. “Luck to you, madam.”

The Queen tugged her hood closer to her face and hurried past, her fury increasing with every cold, miserable plodding step. Wind gusted down the streets of the capitol city as if blown by giants, funneled by the tall buildings on either side.

Wintertide was a day away and the Wintereve Feast tonight. By all rights she and her husband should be warm and safe at the castle’s hearth, toasting one another with mulled cider, stringing cranberries and awaiting the birth of their third child.

Due any day, indeed! The Queen was far too pregnant and exhausted to be trailing Reginald as he skulked toward his latest assignation. Her feet had bloated over the tops of her winter boots. False contractions hardened her womb so frequently it stole her breath. Yet here she was, lumbering along as quickly as she could, because there was no one on her staff she could trust with such a delicate mission. Not even the nurse, home with Princesses Susannah and Calypso.

Instead of enlisting Nursie’s help, she’d told the older woman she had to purchase last minute Wintertide gifts, and Nursie had threatened to call the court healer to prevent the Queen from going.

But she was the Queen of Foresta, the pregnant Queen of Foresta, the pregnant and cranky Queen of Foresta, and by the Dragon, her will would be done.

Her will would be done by everyone except her sneaking, cheating skunk of a husband.

The Queen reached the corner of Flower Street to see Reginald whip into the little alleyway where she’d nearly caught him the first time. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, and she resisted the urge to call out. To beg him to stop whatever he was doing, whoever he was seeing, and come home with her. Instead she waddled down the sidewalk, her huge abdomen earning her more space as men and women made room for the pregnant lady with the scowl.

At least Foresta was a polite kingdom. If anyone had given her trouble on one of her unhappy scouting missions, she might have had to retract the law currently in place that forbade putting criminals, or people who annoyed the King and Queen, to death.

Yet once again, when she reached the alley, there was no sign of the man.

Damn and blast. Where could he be going? The narrow passage led straight to Sundry Street with no detours, no doors, no ladders. Not even any garbage. The cleanest alley in all of Kingdom Foresta, and her husband managed to hide in it.

Next time, she would bring the magic sniffing pig, if she could coax the animal out into nasty weather like this. Not as inconspicuous, alas, but more effective than her human eyes.

The Queen squeezed between the buildings, the press of bricks on her body icy through her warm woolen cloak. She inspected every brick, every cobblestone, desperate for an explanation. She longed to put an end to the King’s deception, but she was not a woman to accuse without proof. Seeing him disappear in an alley wasn’t enough.

But she would find evidence. And once she had it, she would wield it like a rapier.

She was damned good with a rapier.

***

You know you want to keep reading! And luckily you can...for free! Read the whole thing online at: http://authors.thesamhellion.com/freebies/t-z/wallace_spell.pdf

Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com * www.meankitty.com

More holiday excerpts:

Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
HelenKay Dimon
TJ Michaels
Lacey Savage

Skip Your Coffee for a Good Cause!

Some of you may have noticed in my Tweet stream that I ditched coffee. It hurt me deeply, yet I perservered and now I sleep a lot. Ha ha, seriously, I did it for my health, but today I'm going to ask everyone to ditch coffee -- one wittle cup of coffee -- for someone else.

A writer friend in my local RWA chapter, CJ Redwine http://cjredwine.blogspot.com/, is in the process of adopting her daughter from China. It's expensive, so she's doing a "Skip Your Starbucks" donation day. Instead of spending your money on a double mocha whatever, why don't you contribute the $$ you would have spent to a much better and longer-lasting cause than a single caffeine buzz?

If you don't drink coffee, what about some other personal indulgence? Dessert? New book? Beer? DVD? I know the Redwine family would appreciate anything you can do. This adoption has been a costly *5 year* process for them, and it looks like it's finally happening...if they can raise the funds.

For more details about their story, you can check out CJ's blog below. She's listing a ton of giveaways people have offered to folks who donate and I believe she's got a mondo swag box herself for one luck winner.

As for my part, besides asking you guys to consider sliding the Redwines a little adoption greenery, I'm going to craft a custom amugurumi for a participant who leaves a comment here about what one they might pick (or dream up). Everyone who donates is, I believe, entered into CJ's master contest, but there are a lot of pilot blogs like mine where you can enter to win more stuff. Lots of chances for swag at CJ's, here and everywhere. Yay, SWAG!

Your amigurumi from me could be something like one of these:

Or maybe one of these two lookers:

Yes, that is a zombie bride and groom, made for another local chapter member who just got married. Hey, I'm not being weird, she's a huge fan of the zombie genre!

And your amigurumi might even be a complete surprise, though I have to warn you, I don't think I can do a zombie goat. I went looking for crochet goat patterns, in honor of CJ, but all the places where they talked about crochet goats online were VIRUS-RIDDLED. The sheep patterns were fine. Ditto the cows, the aliens, the hats, the butterflies, the cats, the elves, the shrugs--pretty much everything but the goats. Is that freaky or what? CJ and I decided it's because zombie goats are evil and we're all better off without one in our homes anyway.

So here's a direct link to CJ's site with the donation details:

If you're interested in the custom amigurumi, be sure to leave your name in the comments below and some ideas of what amigurumi you might choose. This will be going on until Wednesday when we will pick a winner from hopefully a lot of names.

Meankitty thinks you should do it, too. She's fond of tiny humans. They drop such interesting food items on the ground.

Sincerely,

Jody W.
http://www.jodywallace.com/ * www.meankitty.com

Snippet Saturday: Foodies!

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This week the theme is food and foodies. I have posted about food before from a banquet in A Spell for Susannah, so today I'm sharing a post from a book that isn't contracted yet in which the hero reveals just how much of a foodie he is...or is not. This is from the first scene of the book.

***

“Sorry, sweetie, we’re out of porterhouses.” Annette, Harry’s grey-haired waitress, slid a stemmed water glass onto the table in front of him and flipped her receipt book to the next page.

Out of porterhouses? How could Miss Sandie’s Tea Room run out of steaks when he was the only customer who ever ordered them?

Harry stared at the frilly, blue-checkered menu as if another werewolf-friendly item were going to appear among the scones and scotch eggs. Miss Sandie’s was his customary lunch spot, but he’d rather fire up the grill himself than settle for a fruit plate.

Which was saying a lot. Harry hadn’t gotten a culinary gene, just a furry one.

“Are you sure, Annette? Did Sandie order T-bones?” He sniffed the air, but he couldn’t detect much beyond the fresh flowers on his table and apple pie that saturated the dining room. He didn’t have the greatest nose in wolfdom, but it wasn’t as dull as a human’s.

“Your friends from earlier cleaned us out.” Annette slipped into the chair across from him, clearly intent on a chat. The café wasn’t busy at this hour. “Sandie doesn’t mind keeping you in steaks, Harry, but this isn’t a greasy spoon. It’s a tea room.”

“Which friends?” Harry peered around the pastry cabinet next to his chair, but a table of female diners blocked his view of the café.

“Your lady friends.” Annette smoothed a wrinkle out of the tablecloth. “I use the term ‘lady’ loosely, you understand. No ladies I know behave like that.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. He had a number of lady friends, and none would give Annette a sour face. Or order steak at a tea room. He liked his women sweet, talented in the kitchen, and one hundred percent human. He also liked them roughly his own age, if not species, which left most of the staff of Miss Sandie’s out of the running. Too bad. Miss Sandie was one of the best cooks he’d ever known.

The question was, why would Annette think some random, steak-eating women were connected to him? “My friends, huh. Did they mention me by name or something?”

Annette tapped her pen on her receipt book. “They said they knew you. They looked familiar, but I haven’t met every single person in town.”

“Maybe they weren’t from around here.” Millington, West Virginia, wasn’t big, but it was close enough to Wheeling that they did get tourist traffic. It was possible some of the independent shifters he’d known in New York City were visiting.

“Could be.” She leaned toward him. “I certainly don’t know anyone in Millington who thinks dog collars make good fashion accessories.”

“Not even pink ones?”

Annette rolled her eyes, so Harry changed the subject. He’d been in Wheeling all morning buying supplies for his garage, and he was starving. “What are the specials today?”

“Same as every Thursday, kiddo,” Annette teased, but she told him anyway.

While she talked, Harry cursed inwardly. Hell and hairshirts! These “friends” sounded like local pack members. He frequented the tea room and befriended humans as part of his strategy of pack avoidance. If the pack invaded his sanctuary, he’d be severely put out. It had taken years to cultivate Miss Sandie and her staff, trading discounted automotive repairs for steaks cooked the way he liked them, friendly faces, and the occasional heated bunco session.

This was his place. His. Why did they have to ruin it? Couldn’t they just leave him alone?

***

Cute, huh? I should probably find somebody to buy it.

Jody W.
http://www.jodywallace.com/ * http://www.meankitty.com/

For more excerpts about food and fun:

Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
HelenKay Dimon
TJ Michaels

Meankitty Wants to Know: Shredder & Cleetus

During the interview with writer Lori Mofield, we mentioned that she was owned by a cat named Shredder. Today we're posting Shredder's interview answers, and at the bottom we've saved the dumbest for last -- the DAWG, Cleetus. Even we can admit that the photos of Cleetus are somewhat appealing. Imagine sinking your teeth into one of those ears and riding that dog like a bronco! Giddyup, dog pony!

1) So, Shredder, your human writes books. Does this mean he or she is home all day and easy to access? Elaborate if necessary.

She is home all day and lets me in and out whenever I ask. In fact, whatever I need, I simply rub up on her leg and magically it happens. I love my human.

2) How large a proportion of her income do you have her devote to your gourmet tuna, cat beds, toys and other basic necessities?

She is very tight in this area and my favorite thing is when she leans her head back on the large couch thing and I love to sharpen my nails. It is the only time she raises her voice and shoos me away. I have brought this issue up with my cat whisperer; I am fairly tramatized about it and we are trying to work through it. I'm sorry, I need a minute.

3) What are your techniques for distracting your human just because it's fun?

Sneaking in front of her feet works very well and I am quick. Now, for the man in the house, I like to interrupt his shaving, he gets very loud at times and wakes my favorite human up; it is quite nice.

4) What indignities and neglect have you suffered because of your human's writing career?

Do you have a Kleenex? Where do I begin? I am not sure I can say the words, but there are times when my litter box smells. Can you believe that? Sniff.

5) Tell me about the felines in your human's fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play?

I am afraid I cannot comment on that as I currently have legal issues with the almost signed agent in regards to that very issue.

6) On the off-chance your human has yet to incorporate cats into a story, what are your plans for making sure she rectifies this egregious error and demonstration of poor writing skills?

As I said, I am unable to comment due to legal issues on the advice of my attorney; however I can say the issue should be corrected very, very soon.

7) What works of fiction or cinema involving cats does your human enjoy sharing with you?

Unfortunately, she doesn't have much time for TV, but does from time to time read Cat in the Hat to me.

8) If you could make one change to your human, what would it be?

That she would hire a maid to clean my litter box whenever I had to, you know...

Questions from Visitors:

What things does your human do that would mortify it if known?

She drinks out of the milk carton sometimes to keep the dishes down to a minimum and she hides choc/mint milano cookies so her young human males won't find them and devour them.

What does your human do that most annoys?

Sometimes I can see the bottom of my food bowl; she knows that I do not like that and yet it happens.

Did your human name a character for you? Are you pleased? If not, why?

All of these personal questions are upsetting. I will have to have an extended session with my psychologist.

And did your human name you for a fictional character? Hate it or love it?

No, she named me for my toilet paper fetish; that is what she tells me anyway. The only character I know of as Shredder is a rat and you know what I can do with rats!

How do you give your writer new ideas?

I just step around her and she is inspired.

***


More Questions for Shredder and Cleetus

1) Shredder, tell us. You're under a gag order not to talk about the cats in your humans' books...but are they full of praise and hyped up lies about dogs?

Oh yes, they are and I am so glad you brought that up as my therapist and I have been trying to work through that issue. Something about the stupidity of dogs protecting characters in the book. The dog that I allow to live in our house only can protect fleas.

2) Cleetus, as a dog, you're probably not devious or fascinating, but on the
off-chance you do have feline traits, what are your techniques for distracting your human during crucial writing moments?

I drool on her toes.

3) Cleetus, what's it like to live with Shredder?

I have to be cathandled often and the human does't know anything about it. I have wounds. Deep soul wounds from the pain Shredder inflicts.


4) When your human gets together with other writers, do they spend half their time sniffing each other's butts like dogs do?

Cleetus: What else would they do? You have to really know the other person and what better way is there?

Shredder: He is a dog, what does he know? We have not personally seen her do this thing Cleetus claims she does as she likes to meet her writer friends away from the house.

Shredder's Hero: Nash.
Cleetus's Hero: Underdog.

***

Sincerely,
Meankitty & TS
http://www.meankitty.com/ * http://www.jodywallace.com/

Meankitty Wants to Know: Lori Mofield

Ms. Lori used to be in Typing Slave's local writing chapter until life and busyness required her to be elsewhere. But she's still writing! Let's find out if she's a keeper. Tomorrow or the next day we'll hear from the more important member of her family, Shredder. Oh, and some DAWG named Cleetus too.

Meankitty Wants To Know...

1) Why did you decide to be a writer instead of a cat sanctuary owner?

Actually my cat Shredder has inspired me to write, blog and work on my creative story telling. As a solitary feline who rules our domain, I am afraid that I may have gotten on her nerves always including her in my make believe world. She would often paw at the screen and I know in her intelligence, she was trying to use sign language to allow me to understand she was bored with it all and I needed to find another outlet. Hence, I have four completed novels, two works in process and one almost complete. I believe she is happy that I force it on others in the human world.

2) Why do you think cats are better than dogs? (Since you call yourself a writer, I trust your answer will be eloquent.)

I have found her intelligence far outweighs that of the canine world. Although independent and solitary, she has shown more cunning than her adversary, Cleetus, has ever done. Not to mention she shows me love by offering trophies of her hunting prowess. No dog has ever left the head of a rabbit at my doorstep and looked at me as proud as she does.

3) Tell me about the felines in your fiction. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play in your narratives?

My novels often involve serious crimes of passion and murder. I could never hurt a feline and although I know that a wonderful cat would serve as a talisman, I just have not found the right place for them yet. However, I promise to work toward that endeavor in my next best selling novel.

4) Do you have any amazing, or at least humorous, real life cat stories you'd like to share?

I have a friend who is a country music artist, Erika Jo who won Nasvhille Star a couple of years ago. When she would travel out of town, I would keep her African Grey Parrot. Our Shredder was very curious about the large and obnoxious bird, but tolerated her allowing the bird to sleep below her bed which now was on top of the cage. This of course was after letting her human know it was uncomfortable on the cage. Over time, the bird learned to call the cat and Shredder would oblidge with an obligatory wiggle of her tail and walk away until night time.

One particular night, the bird called to her, "Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty." The next thing we knew, a piercing cry of pain emitted throughout the house, and as we all came running, Shredder could not be found, but the bird had cat hair in its mouth and actually laughed a mimicked evil type laugh, muhahahah. That was a little unnerving, especially since we could not find Shredder for several hours. After that night, Shredder returned to her normal perch on the couch and her damaged ego and tail quickly healed. We never kept the bird again.

5) Multiple choice 1. What is your preference and why?

A) Long hair
B) Short hair
C) No hair

-- Note: I am not, of course, referring to the hirsute qualities of your most recent hero or heroine.

I like all cats with hair as the no hair cats kind of creep me out.

6) Multiple choice 2. You have a writing deadline but the cat who rules you wants some attention. Desperately. Do you:

A) Lock the cat in another room and keep working?
B) Pet the cat for a couple minutes and then toss her cruelly aside?
C) Pet the cat as long as she wants because you know it will inspire and refresh you?

-- Note: If you answered anything besides C, we suggest you consider the fact you could have written a much better book if you had been inspired and refreshed instead of mean to the cat.

Of course, C! I often work with Shredder by my side and would have it no other way.

Questions from Readers:

How goes the discussion about discipline in your house?

What discipline?

What one thing would you change about your pet/human?

Cat: I would prefer gourmet prepared food daily, I get very tired of meow mix. However, they know better than to let me see the bottom of the bowl. It is always full, or they are punished.

Human: Someone to clean up the cat and dog hair. Nonsheding pets would work.

Do you believe pets and humans come to resemble each other over time?

If humans are lucky!

Can you type with a cat stretched out across your wrists?

No, but she prefers to sleep under the warm light that I have for her anyway.

Otherwise, how's the carpal tunnel?

No carpal tunnel, tennis elbow.


When you're in the zone with your writing, what does your cat have to do to get your attention?

She steps in front of the monitor and tries to type her own thoughts. Gets my attention pretty quick.

***

Sincerely,

Meankitty

Have you seen the new look at my website? With new posts daily, unlike Typing Slave's lame blog here? www.meankitty.com

Snippet Saturday: Character Interaction

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This week the theme is character interaction with an emphasis on humor. Humor, I hear, is really hard to do well. It's like beauty--it's in the eye of the beholder. Or the laugher, I guess. Pretty much everything I write is what I consider humorous, but since I'm not on the NYT Bestseller lists, it's safe to assume not everyone agrees. Nevertheless, I thought I'd share a scene from A Spell for Susannah today. It's got some spoilers in it -- it's the first couple pages of Chapter 7 -- but it shows some interaction between Susannah, her mother and a couple of her sisters.

****

“I’m not getting up today,” Susannah informed her mother when the Queen woke her. Why she could never send a sweet, soft-voiced maid to get them from their beds, Susannah didn’t know. Or perhaps she did.

Her mother paused in mid-harangue and regarded her incredulously.

Susannah took a deep breath and flexed her shoulders against the mattress. Her muscles screamed, and her ears rang faintly from her magical overextension. “I believe I may be ill.”

The Queen turned to Esme. “Is Susannah ill?”

“Yep,” Esme said. “And I am too.” She climbed back into bed.

“That won’t work when you’ve already rolled out of bed.” The Queen chuckled, but not with amusement. “Get up.”

Esme opened her mouth, probably to say if she wasn’t sick then neither was Susannah, but Calypso sat upon the end of Esme’s bed and grasped Esme’s ankle.

“Susannah is ill,” Calypso said. “Esme is not.”

“It might be catching,” Esme grumbled. “I might get it tomorrow.”

“I doubt that,” Susannah said. Was there any way she could go to the court healer without having to reveal the reason for her muscular discomfort? A hot bath and healing draught would be wonderful, though she had no idea what would remove the bees from her head.

Inspired, she explained, “My muscles are sore like I have influenza. I can barely raise my arms or turn my head.”

The Queen walked to Susannah’s bed and yanked her arm into the air. Susannah yelped as pain lanced the cramped muscles. The Queen placed a cool hand on her forehead. “You feel hot, and that was an honest wail. I’ll notify the healer. Perhaps a spring physick is in order.”

Susannah shook her head against the pillow. “There’s no need for a purge. Really.”

“No one else is ill?” The Queen’s eagle eyes speared everyone in the room. “This has no connection to your clandestine activities?”

“What clandestine activities, Mama?” Calypso looked up from plaiting her hair.

The Queen’s lips pursed. “All right, Susannah, you may stay abed today. But if you’re not well by tomorrow, you’ll have a physick.”

Susannah heaved a grateful sigh. Even though her sisters rose and took no particular pains to be quiet, she fell dreamlessly asleep and woke only when a young maid brought a cup of salts from the court healer for her bath.

“Reynald says to drop these in a bath you’ve run as hot as you can stand it,” said the child as Susannah rubbed her eyes. “If the ache doesn’t go away, send for a tincture of willow bark.”

“Thank you, Emily.” Susannah lurched out of bed and accepted Emily’s help pulling her robe over her night rail. The maid accompanied her to the finely appointed bathing chamber down the hall and manipulated the porcelain levers until hot water poured from the magic spigot into one of the animal-footed tubs. Washbasins on dainty white pedestals and gold-framed mirrors lined the other walls. Several sundry chests completed the room’s accoutrements.

“Thank goodness we have enchanted taps. I’d hate for all this water to have been lugged from the kitchens,” Susannah said. The salts Emily poured into the bath smelled of the sea. Susannah swished her hands in the water to dissolve the grains and slumped down the back of the smooth tub. The delicious water soothed her sore arms and shoulders, and after her extra sleep, her headache was gone, as was the buzzing in her ears.

“Can you fetch that tincture of willow bark? Have Cook make it into sugared tea.”

Before leaving, Emily placed a towel and some vanilla and jasmine soap on the stand next to the tub as well as the silver bell that matched the one on her girdle.

“Ring if you think of anything else,” she said and then skipped out of the room with the cheerful good health of a child.

Steam rose about Susannah as she soaked, eyes closed, enjoying the heat and the delicate tang of magic from the spigots, something she could sense now that she’d found the magic inside herself. Her thoughts strayed to the previous night and her discoveries.

Ah, privacy. A rare and delightful possession in a household of eleven nosy sisters and two suspicious parents. She wriggled against the back of the tub and sighed with bliss.

As if on cue, the bathing room door creaked, and Susannah’s eyes popped open. Here in the tub, nude and sore, she was completely vulnerable. Surely Jon Tom wouldn’t…

Ella slipped into the room and closed the door. “I thought I might find you here.”

Susannah inhaled a deep breath of the flowery steam to calm her startled heartbeat. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I have some ideas about last night. Plus I have a report on Mr. Tom.” Ella settled on the smooth tile floor beside Susannah’s tub and gazed up at her.

Ella with ideas about last night, Susannah thought. One of the last things she needed, right next to Jon Tom walking into the bathing chamber.

“What have you found out about the detective?” Susannah began to scrub her arms and legs. She wasn’t going to get the peace and quiet she longed for, after all.

“I’ll trade information for information.” Her sister flashed a cheeky grin. “Aren’t curses often broken when true love is involved? Do you think somebody has fallen in love?”

“Are you in love with Prince Fabio?” Susannah teased. She stretched, wincing, to scrub her feet. The hot water of the bath stung the raw spots on her palms.

“Of course not!” Ella flicked her fingernail against Susannah’s tub with a clicking sound. “Men are all right, but I like magic better.”

***

Jody W.
www.jodywallace.com
Daily new posts at: www.meankitty.com

***

More funnies! Go here:

Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
HelenKay Dimon
Shelli Stevens

You Think Your Cats are Big on Catnip....

Check out this video of some felines enjoying their nip:



How'd you like to have that in your living room floor?

MK & JW

Snippet Saturday: Vacations or Exotic Locales

Snippet Saturday is the brainchild of author Lauren Dane, wherein a group of authors selects thematic excerpts from their work and shares them on Saturday mornings. This week the theme is vacations and exotic locales. While the following excerpt from Survival of the Fairest might not be everyone's choice of vacation, it is one of the places that our intrepid fairy heroine visited that was exotic to her...the Nevada desert. This excerpt takes place about halfway through the book and has mild spoilers.

***

This was not something she wanted to be doing. Tali brushed sweaty hair out of her face and reflected on the fact that living without magic had drawbacks. Near the top of the peak, the sun was merciless, and the short trees on either side of the trail offered little shade. Of course, it could only be called a trail by someone goat-like, marked, as it was, by fewer trees and smaller rocks. The loose shale beneath her foot slipped, and she konked her knee. Again.

She cursed and peered up the rugged slope at Jake. She had a great view of his bottom and muscular thighs, revealed by the tan shorts he’d put on. Small compensation.

“Need a hand?” He paused and tossed a grin over his shoulder. He remained energetic despite the fact he toted a backpack made heavier by the contents of the one he’d originally filled for her. “I’d carry you, but then we’d both end up with broken legs.”

“Instead of just me,” Tali grumbled. She carried a small—a very small—number of items in her backpack, the soft stuff, which Jake said would cushion her. He’d insisted on the packs in case “anything happened”, a general term that did nothing to comfort Tali.

“Hey, somebody’s got to get you to the hospital.” A cautious expression crossed his face, and he cleared his throat. “You’re not going to get all ‘I could die’ on me, are you?”

She had to accept the limitations of this world. “I’m here to blend in. I’ll trust human medicine. You’re climbing this cursed rock and you’re not scared, right?”

Jake kicked a piece of shale so it slithered to her right and bounced off a scrubby bush. “I’m only scared we won’t find this hole thing and you’ll make me… No, wait, I’m scared we will find it.” He smiled ruefully. “Either way, we’re nearly there.”

“Thank the spirits.” Her knees were scraped and bruised, and a scratch decorated one forearm. Her legs quivered like jelly, her feet were raw in her torturous new boots, and she very, very badly wanted a bath and whatever passed for a human healing spell.

Jake resumed his climb toward the summit where she could see endless blue sky scudded with faint clouds. If there was a ring, she’d suction so much magic out of it she could do a healing spell on herself. Not that she was good at earth spells. Not that she planned to cheat on her training. She wanted to return triumphantly to the Realm and say she’d obeyed all the rules while researching human magic at the same time. Right before she got sevendusted, but she’d know what she’d done was the right thing.

At that thought she resumed her slow, shaky crawl toward the peak. Though it was steeper, the rocks were larger and less slippery than the first leg of the climb. Jake stopped to allow her to catch up, and they finished their journey in short order.

Tali straightened with a moan and twisted her torso to work the kinks out of her spine. Her pulse throbbed from sun and exertion like a fiery drum. She inhaled a deep, restorative breath of dry air. A breeze tousled her hair and cooled her overheated body.

“Here we are.” Jake shrugged off his pack, set it on a boulder, and pulled out two bottles of water. “Do you feel anything magical?”

“The fact we’re finished with that miserable climb is magical.” He handed her a bottle of water, and she sank onto the boulder beside his pack with a giant sigh.

After drinking half the bottle, she assessed her surroundings. Large rocks, weathered timber and prickly shrubs covered the peak. There was evidence of humans in the trash on the ground and a burned area the shape of a campfire. A fat black lizard sunned itself on a boulder. Jake shaded his eyes and inspected the horizon.

Tali tried to glimpse what held his attention. In the distance all she could see was brown, more brown, some gray and hazy mountains. Though she preferred green mountains with white caps, like Cragen, the desert terrain pleased her in its own dusty way.

Several thin lines crossed the expanse of the wide, nondescript valley below until they disappeared. Roads? Too pale and straight to be creeks, plus it was so dry here. Xerode in the Realm was arid like this, with an ocean of sand, but she’d never been there.

She screwed the cap back on her water. “What are you staring at, Jake?”

“See that region past Freedom Ridge?” He pointed at a faint pattern in another valley. “That’s Area 51. We’re probably being monitored by surveillance equipment as we speak.”

“That’s where they captured the alien saucers?” She studied the sky. A hawk soared far overhead, but nothing else.

Jake shook his head. He shifted his backpack to the ground and seated himself beside her. “It’s an urban legend that they have flying saucers. They probably test experimental spy planes. It’s such a top-secret base it’s known worldwide.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Surely in fairyland there are places that aren’t supposed to exist but that everybody knows about?”

Image is (c) Dreamland Resort: http://www.dreamlandresort.com/

Tikabook Peak Wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tikaboo_Peak

Awesome panorama: http://www.dreamlandresort.com/area51/panorama_0502.html

***

Jody W.
http://www.jodywallace.com/ * http://www.meankitty.com/

Where else would you like to visit today? Check out these exotic locales:

Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Emma Petersen
HelenKay Dimon
Shelley Munro
TJ Michaels
Ashley Ladd

Search Terms

The updates to the revamped www.meankitty.com site are proceeding as planned, with several new/old posts a day and even some totally new faces and seekers of advice to spice things up. I just received what is probably the final search term list for the old-model site...not the items people used to find Meankitty using search engines but the items people searched for ON Meankitty.

Strange ones include:

alien
catku (Of course the site does have catkus on it....)
max up credit card (really mean Meankitties just love to do that)
prepnant, followed soon thereafter by pregnant
ebay kittah
hutcherman (pretty sure there isn't a cat named that on the site)
editor's assistant (Meankitty is in publishing now?)
followed by: editor and apprentice
hareballs (probably something kitties cough up after eating a rabbit)
wet sock
i love dogs
sex (of course)
and some profane terms I don't care to repeat but which I'm sure the searcher didn't find on Meankitty.

The terms people use to find this blog or the webpage are never that interesting!

Meankitty & JW

Lend Us Your Eyes

Not like Hannibal Lecter wants your eyes. That's gross. We have FINALLY upgraded Meankitty from the recalcitrant software package we were using to a handier to update Wordpress framework. You can now leave comments on most posts, Tweet funny pages, get the RSS feed and so on and so forth, plus more as we continue to modify the template. We would love to get some feedback!

www.meankitty.com

We are going to keep the old site archived at www.meankitty.org until we transfer all billion cats to the new site. Because there are a billion cats, let's just say we expect Meankitty.com is going to have daily updates. All current gallery cats will have their day on the front page of the blog and new cats will not be ignored like they have been for six pitiful months.

I KNOW.

What can I say? My staff is only human.

Sincerely,
Meankitty & Typing Slave
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com

Meankitty Wants to Know: Kitty Chesney

Here is the link to the post about Mean Marie, the human Kitty Chesney owns: http://tinyurl.com/36djpq6

Kitty Chesney decided to let his person's interview go first because he was busy taking a nap. According to Mean Marie, he was so tuckered out after the interview he needed a chicken.

1) So, your human reads a lot. Does this mean he or she is home all day and easy to access? Elaborate if necessary.

My human is unfortunately home all the time. She is SO needy! "Kitty Chesney let me pet you. Kitty Chesney come here and eat a treat." "Kitty Chesney why don't you love me as much as I love you?"

2) How large a proportion of her income do you have her devote to your gourmet tuna, cat beds, toys and other basic necessities? Do you make her divert it from book purchases?

She has been made aware that if it comes to a choice between my 'nip and her books...the library is only 5 blocks away.

3) What are your techniques for distracting your human during crucial reading moments, just because it's fun?

I like to race up and down the hall as fast as I can. It sounds VERY loud. I also employ this technique when she's sleeping. Usually around 3 am.

4) What indignities and neglect have you suffered because of your human's reading obsessions?

If anyone is gonna suffer in this household, it ain't gonna be me. What a ridiculous question.

5) Tell me about the felines in your human's fiction choices. How often do they appear and how big a part do they play?

I think you have me confused with a cat that has any interest in humans or their reading choices.
6) If you could make one change to your human, what would it be?

I wish she would get a job that would keep her out of my hair all day. She drives me crazy with the incessant petting. I'm constantly having to re-groom the areas she has touched.

User submitted:

Are you happy with your human? If you could tell your human one thing, what would it be?

She's ok. If I could tell her one thing it would be that there is a dead mouse in her box of Ferragamo's. It was alive when I left it there but when I came back to play with it some more it was dead. Clearly, her shoes killed it. She owes me a live mouse. I want her to know that. And correct it. ASAP.

What things does your human do that would mortify it if known? What does your human do that most annoys?

Are you telling me she has emotions? Do you think I care about her emotions if she does indeed have any? *swats questioner w/paw. claws unsheathed*

Did your human name you for a fictional character? Hate it or love it?

From reading Star Magazine I have been able to determine that a Country Music Star was named after me. He changed his first name to Kenny. Probably because he's not worthy to be called Kitty.

***

Sincerely,

Meankitty & Typing Slave
http://www.meankitty.com/ * http://www.jodywallace.com/