Tuesday Tales 2022-6-21 Rake

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where authors write weekly excerpts based on word and picture prompts. The prompt this week is rake. When you finish reading my snippet, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

He was a giant. Only her lessons in krav maga had allowed her to knock him beneath his knees and run for her life. Only desperation had allowed her to twist in a quick maneuver and slice at him with the dagger. She staggered away from his roar.

He stood and stared at her, surprise in his eyes, followed by a darkening anger.

She looked at the ground and shook her head violently. “Oh no, I didn’t…” She had started to say she didn’t mean to–but bit off the words. She had meant to…stop him…hurt him. Horror flooded her being.

And fear. Her gaze raked up his body. Red droplets appeared on his tattooed arm where she had cut him. She scoured upward. The blaze in his eyes was terrible to see. He was going to end her now. Put his huge hands around her neck and press his thumbs against her throat. Or heft the axe tied to his belt.

She coughed, choking. Her hand still clutched the dagger the Bone Woman had given her. Her free hand sought respite from the tree behind her. Its ridged bark was a lifeline. She backed up against it, heaving from exertion. The air seemed to have disappeared from this land.

She kept her eyes on his, trying to anticipate his intention. She wouldn’t give in quietly. If he moved she could be quicker. She would plunge the blade into his heart this time.

He cursed violently. To her shock she could understand him. She hadn’t expected to, despite what the Bone Woman had said. She realized she had taken him by surprise with her attack. He hadn’t expected her to hit the target.

She leaned against the tree, trying to catch her breath before he came at her. In their struggle the knot on her scarf had come untied, and her pinned up hair had loosened. A stiff wind soared across the cliff top. Its breath held icy winter. Its music resounded through the yew and fir. The scarf fluttered to the ground. Her hair cascaded unbound to her shoulders.

With a stunned expression, his gaze traced the outline of her hair and then shot back to fix on her own.

She watched as his lips softened from their grim line. For the first time she acknowledged the well-formed features adorning the face of the golden giant.  She bit her lip. They didn’t make them like that back home in Cherry Grove Beach.

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word, rake. Thanks for stopping by. Check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

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