Why do doctor appointments and tests like to pile together on the calendar? At least mine do. I’ve three doctors’ appointments and an MRI scheduled this week. Bleh. Necessary evil, I suppose, but sometimes, it gets tiresome.
Being chronically ill is hard work some days.
I am thankful, however, that I do have healthcare insurance. That’s something major when you have the issues I do.
That said, it’s Wednesday! And that means it’s time for another WIPpet!
This week’s WIPpet Wednesday* comes again from Surrogate: Traditions, the third novel in the Surrogate Series. This will be the last WIPpet from Traditions I’ll be sharing for a while. Next week, I’m be shifting gears to one of my newer WIPs. Not because Traditions is ready to go anywhere, far from it, but because I think I have shared enough of it for a while. The novel’s rough is finished, but right now, it’s sitting on the back burner while I work on some other projects. More on those later.
But you and I have still have this WIPpet before I move along.
Here’s my math for this week: 0+1+2+5 = 8 paragraphs.
The setup: Etain, Merch, Aerachin, Mary, and Itzel have arrived in New Slydrra Za and they are coming to understand that no one, not even Etain’s own children, have managed to avoid Takran’s cataclysmic events.
“Your back, ‘Tan Ixtii. It is very swollen.” One of the Cycalk heal-masters gave Etain a mug of pain tea then led her to a building across the road. “Your mildew infection is abating, but I’ll have a vinegar tub filled for you later today.” The woman, a silver pelt who’d grown chubby with Takran’s abundance, held Etain just outside the front door. “Your children are here. Being half-Alyward helped, but the virus still left its mark.”
“Take me to them, please.” Some of my children might be— Etain gulped down the mug and held it out, shivering as the drink calmed her pain and nerves alike. Strong cold-brew. It wouldn’t make her sleepy.
“Your shirt,” said the woman as she took the mug. “It’s so blood-caked it will frighten your young ones.”
Etain looked down at Stra’s shirt. Only for them. “Is there another I can borrow?”
“Take mine.” The woman removed her smock and held it out. Most Cycalk women went topless unless they were around Taklas and Humans, and then only for others comfort and not their own. The smock wasn’t as large as Stra’s flowing tunic, but it hung off Etain much the same way. “This must have been Yaltan Stra’s, so I will have it cleaned and returned as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” Etain watched as she rolled the shirt and tucked it under her arm. “Where are my children?”
“Mothers always find their way back to their children, but your mob takes up half this building. Go find them.”
Etain thanked her and turned down the right-hand hallway, listening to the voices that seeped under the doorways. Three doors. Four. She placed her hand on the fifth door to the left. It was the last door on that side of the hall and— she heard giggling and an adult male voice, humored as it asked for quiet in the Alyward tongue. Here. She opened the door, just a crack in fear she’d made the wrong choice.
You can read more WIPpet Wednesday’s from Surrogate: Traditions HERE.
*WIPpet Wednesday is a blog hop hosted by Emily Wrayburn wherein writers share excerpts of their latest WIP. All genres and levels of accomplishment are welcome. The only stipulation is that the excerpt must coincide with the date in some manner. For example, on 10/8/14 you might share 10 lines from page 8, 8 paragraphs from chapter 14, or perhaps 18 sentences by doing WIPpet math and adding the day to the month. We’re flexible like that.