#WordWeavers #Writing 24-03-31 For a giveaway, what swag would you love to offer with your book?

This took me a long moment of thinking.
Like way way more than I think others probably had to do.
First thought was a limited run of a functional replica of Pintac's arrow & sickle brooch.
But more practical and just as heavy emotional weight would be a durable bookmark with the phonetic lyrics for Bayu-Bayushki-Bayu on one side and a translation on the other.
Less practical, two mini posters, one depicting Parthia & Pintac napping in their meadow,
the other depicting the somber moment when Parthia is looking at herself in a mirror post transformation, with the William Blake poem "The Tyger" written/integrated along one side, as there is a blink-and-you-miss-it reference to Blake's poem in that scene

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I snapped awake momentarily disoriented as to where I was.

The lessened light pouring through the windows told me I had been asleep an hour, maybe two.

My head pounded, and my eyes itched from the crying before I had passed out.

“Alrighty Par'. Let's avoid passing out in unsecure places in the future.”

I was half joking but it was still an important practice to mind when confronting future rocks in the river.

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The ship teetered atop the mountain for a second that felt like eternity

“Grab hold and make fast!” I bellowed to the crew on deck as we pitched forward and raced downward.

Another rose up in front like a beast and took a hard swipe at us.

Someone called out “Captain Parthia! We're going to lose the bowsprit!”

As we slid down that beastly wave I shouted to the helmsman “Hard to port! Turn to broad reach! We have to surf ahead of the crest!”

Everything slowed as the ship turned in the lull between waves, and caught the rising swell.

The crest of the wave broke in shades of silver and white as it curled like the unruly beard of a mad wizard roaring with maniacal laughter behind us...

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---The Cantata of the Wild Soul ( excerpt ) ---
I grabbed my head with both hands trying to make my mind stop spinning like a feather at the mercy of a storm’s winds.

The scream that erupted from me was a savage primal hymn of every emotion I was feeling.

My arm slammed repeatedly into the wall trying in vain to cast off the phantasmal grappler that came from within.

My Spring tears became a torrential Autumn downpour as I smashed anything my hands could grab.

I staggered backwards into a corner and slid down the wall hugging myself, while sobbing.

So much had happened, most of it in just the last few days, and I felt like a rope fraying at both ends.

When word came to us that Pintac’s parents had died in a wildfire, I was there to keep him buoyant and moored to the dock.
When mum passed in her sleep a few years back, Pin’ pulled me into dry dock and took care of me while I buried her and mourned…

But here I was now, alone adrift, mourning unmoored, rowing with the vaguest view of a point on the horizon.

I needed to pull myself together.
But everything was too fresh, too raw, and try as I might, the boat kept breaching through the top of the waves instead of cresting over them.
Each time taking a swig of water from the wave.
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A fun bit that I'll need to include in the /prequel/.
Parthia and Pintac had a favourite small clearing on the farthest side of the woods that they would sometimes go camping at for a few days when they'd get a bit stir-crazy in the village.
Parthia is 5'6, Pintac is 6'1
They'd lay out in the sun and/exercise/
Parthia would sometimes fall asleep laying on top
Pintac would referre to this as "lizard on a rock"



In a Spaceballs the Movie style maneuver, I've already started the prequel while TCotWS is still being written 😁
Tentatively called "A Wolf's Lullaby" after Parthia's nickname for Pintac of "Wolfie"

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Ah, the interesting experience of acclimating to your body after significant physical changes..

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