Hello all. I’m sharing another sample from Red Bird’s Song, an adventurous Native American historical romance novel with a Last of the Mohicans flavor.
This excerpt is from the heroine, Charity’s, point of view and I would rate it PG, unless, of course, you have extremely delicate sensibilities.
He slid the musket over his shoulder by a woven strap. A faint smile curved his lips. “You wish to go live among the trees? Come with me.”
Instinctively, Charity shied back.
The warrior closed the distance between them and
extended a corded arm circled with twin bands of
silver. His voice went from butter to grit. “Now.”
Musket shots cracked above the rapid water. War whoops rang through the trees. Charity scrambled back with a shriek.
He lunged at her. Jerked fully to life, she flung the basket at his chest and spun around. Catching up her skirts, she raced over the uneven ground along the river.
Clinging to his praise, she tore through grass heavy with seed heads. The slap of her shoes and swish of her petticoats sounded alongside the rapid water. She sensed but didn’t hear the warrior’s stealthy pursuit. Dodging rocks masked by the haze, she hurtled across downed branches, risking a nasty fall. But what did that matter with the hound of hell snapping at her heels?
Faster! Heart pounding in her ears, she leapt over a moss-encrusted log and stumbled. Grabbing a bent sapling for support, she righted herself and sprang away through a blur of color. Her chest thudded. She could scarcely get her breath and shot a glance over her shoulder.
Lord, no! Her pursuer’s glove-like moccasins had the advantage over her square-toed shoes, as did his ground-covering strides. He rapidly narrowed the gap between them. God save her or she’d be killed and scalped like her father.
She flew around a bend in the river and stopped short. A prickly tangle of burdock and brambles blocked the path. She looked wildly around.
No way through. Shooting to the side, she clamored up the bank.
Down she went, sliding over loose stones, lurching forward with outstretched hands and scraping her palms. She ignored the sting and scrambled up to pelt through tall grass and spikes of mullein. If she hid among the stand of cedars just ahead, he might not find—-too late. He’d come.~
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**Red Bird’s Song is available in print and or digital download (eBook) from all major online booksellers, and some not so major.
**Pics of the stream and the old musket were taken by my mom.