Saturday, 22 October 2016

Prologue to Displaced

In an age where authors are releasing books faster than I can change a load of laundry, I have to admit that I am one slow writer.  Other than a short story or novella here and there, I haven't actually released a full length novel in years.  Despite this, I still have readers following me, letting me know they are rereading and rereading yet again The Chosen One Trilogy while they wait for my next book.  I love my Sweetlings.  They're the most patient fans turned friends ever and I feel blessed and lucky that they've stuck around.  
This post is to say thanks.  I'll be posting a chapter a week for the next little while until I FINALLY finish  up with Displaced.
For those of you new here, Displaced is the first book in the trilogy set after The Chosen One Trilogy.  Haven't read that one yet? Go to any ebook store and pick up the first book, Crossover, for free. 
Have a good one, Sweetlings, and stay safe.  


“Run, Paul!  Run!”
The five-year-old boy wiped tears from his eyes, his feet stuck in place with fear.  His mother turned and drove her shoulder into the strange man’s chest, the impact sending both of them sprawling to the ground.  Paul glanced around frantically, hoping someone was close enough to hear the commotion. 
His mother grunted as the man’s large fist closed around her throat before slamming her head backwards into the ground.
“Momma!”  He pulled a rock out of his pocket and put it in his slingshot.  Pulling back like his daddy had shown him, he let the projectile fly.
The man cried out in surprise and let go of his momma to clutch at his cheek, the blood flowing freely where the rock had struck him.
His momma scrambled to her feet and sprinted to him, her arms wrapping around him so she could hoist him up.  He clung to her as she ran, his eyes wide as the man recovered and started chasing after them.
“They’re running!”
Paul tried to reach for another rock, but couldn’t manage from this position.  He heard his father’s bellow of rage, his deep voice echoing through the woods.  His mother’s sobs rang in his ears.
“Hang on, Paul.”
“Alright, Momma.”  Fresh tears pooled in his eyes and he blinked them away.  The man was catching up. 
His mother tripped and the pair fell to the ground just as four more men appeared.  She pushed him behind her, putting herself between the strangers and her son.
“Where’s the rest of the crew?” inquired the man who had been fighting his momma.
“How, in the name of the moons, did he manage to kill three of you?”
Paul cowered as they started to move slowly around him and his mother.
“These ones aren’t like the ones back home.  They fight.  The bastards are crazy!”
The man with the cut on his cheek peered at them curiously.  “Did you take care of him?”
One of the men nodded.  “Tied him to a post and slit his throat.”
“No!”  His momma’s form blurred and almost completely disappeared before reappearing as a beautiful silver wolf.  She snarled, her teeth bared, the hair on her back standing on end.
“Bloody hell.” 
She lunged at the man he’d hit with a rock, the human’s surprise giving her the advantage.  Her weight knocked him off his feet, her teeth already clamped onto his throat as he fell onto his back.  Her head shook and jerked, the man’s scream turning into a bloody gurgle.
“Momma!”  Paul tried to wiggle out of his newest captor’s grasp, his teeth clamping on the man’s hand as he tried to silence him.
The man swore and adjusted his hold on the boy before running off.  “Settle down, little man.  I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
A sharp yelp was followed by his mother screaming his name.
“Moooommmaaaaaa –” Paul’s scream was cut short by a hard slap to the face. Spots filled his vision.  He gasped for air as he was dropped unceremoniously on the ground.
“Quick.  Give him the drink.  Even the little ones here are crazy.”
Paul coughed and sputtered as his nose was pinched and a warm drink was forced into his mouth.
“Did he swallow any?”
“I don’t know.  Give it a minute.”
Paul’s eyes focused on the man that had slapped him.  He fought against the men holding him down, the sound of his heart beating resonating in his ears.  His chest tightened with fear.  They’d hurt his momma.  He wanted his momma.  His sobs intensified.  He tried to blink his tears away, but found that once his eyes were closed he couldn’t open them again.
“It’s working.  Give him another swallow so he doesn’t wake up for a while.”
“Are you sure he’s young enough?”
“He didn’t shift, I’m sure of it.”
“You know they need the little ones before they learn to shift.’
“I’m not daft.  Of course I know that.”

The men’s voices started to fade and Paul yawned.  His last thought before he felt himself be lifted from the ground was of his momma.

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