Welcome to my contribution to #WIP Wednesday.
I’m picking up where I left off last week.
In case you’re playing catch up…
Here’s my #WIPpet Math for 4/3/2019: 3+1=4 paragraphs from my still untitled side story set within the Appalachian Elementals series
Note: the short paragraph in orange comes from last week’s #WIPpet.
Mary says Charity wouldn’t pluck a chicken to save herself from starvation, and I’m certain it’s true.
“Come along, Nub.” Conall calls to me, and I slide down the loft’s ladder to stand beside him. We’re the long and the short of Master Gow’s Tusculum farm. That’s what Conall calls us when he’s drinking a bit too much of the liquor Master Gow leaves when he visits, but there probably won’t be any of that until after we get back home, if at all this night. It will depend on how badly Conall’s arm hurts when we return.
“Guess you’ll do.” Conall shoulders his long rifle and I follow him out the house. I own a rifle too, but we’re going the along the edge of our fields to Widow Alcott’s so I choose to leave it behind. No one ever bothers us on the farm or when we travel, which is strange because Dragging Canoe and his men are worrying everyone at present, but they’ve thus far left Widow Alcott’s yeoman farm alone too.
This, perhaps, bears explanation. Widow Alcott’s son, Robert, owns the farm, truth be known, but he’s away fighting in the Revolution. Conall has already been. That’s where he got injured, but he survived when a lot of others didn’t.
I tried to go myself, to do my patriotic duty but was sent away for being too small for my age, a point that still infuriates me, and I become angrier still when I see Conall smoothing his shirt for the third time in as many minutes. Widow Alcott’s looking at him as a future son-in-law, and I pray he doesn’t fall into her snare, Mary’s chicken or not.
Ah, poor Nub sounds worried, doesn’t he? He’s only looking out for his friend’s best interests, right?