Crossing the Finish Line
Or rather . . . wheezing toward it at an ever more frantic pace. I am proud to announce that at 10:30 p.m. or so (the clock is kind of blurry) I broke the 40,000 mark! Three days, 10,000 words. Time to throw the water cup over my shoulder and pound my way over the finish line. Wish me luck!
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As they rode into the stables, Gwen steeled herself for the toughest part of the entire journey – a ladylike dismount. Much to her relief, Arin slid off of Skeeter, tossing his reins to a nearby stablehand, and immediately came to her aid.
“My Lady K’Orofin,” he said graciously. “I know you need no assistance, but I would hate to see your dress catch on one of the saddle buckles.”
Gwen giggled. “It happened to my sister once,” she said, leaning down as if to whisper to Arin. Naturally, several of the stablehands moved in closer, their ears pricked up to hear what she had to say. “I’m afraid the dress was irreparable,” she said, “but the gentleman who was assisting her off her beast got such an eyeful that he immediately proposed. Not a bad bargain, a dress for a husband, would you say?”
Arin stared at her, his brown eyes wide with surprise. “I honestly have no idea what to say to that,” he said.
“Prepare for a proposal,” Gwen whispered under her breath, leaning her weight forward and gracefully sliding out of Oatnut’s saddle. Much to her relief, there was no sound of tearing cloth or popping stitches, and she was fairly sure she had only displayed her legs to the knees.
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As they rode into the stables, Gwen steeled herself for the toughest part of the entire journey – a ladylike dismount. Much to her relief, Arin slid off of Skeeter, tossing his reins to a nearby stablehand, and immediately came to her aid.
“My Lady K’Orofin,” he said graciously. “I know you need no assistance, but I would hate to see your dress catch on one of the saddle buckles.”
Gwen giggled. “It happened to my sister once,” she said, leaning down as if to whisper to Arin. Naturally, several of the stablehands moved in closer, their ears pricked up to hear what she had to say. “I’m afraid the dress was irreparable,” she said, “but the gentleman who was assisting her off her beast got such an eyeful that he immediately proposed. Not a bad bargain, a dress for a husband, would you say?”
Arin stared at her, his brown eyes wide with surprise. “I honestly have no idea what to say to that,” he said.
“Prepare for a proposal,” Gwen whispered under her breath, leaning her weight forward and gracefully sliding out of Oatnut’s saddle. Much to her relief, there was no sound of tearing cloth or popping stitches, and she was fairly sure she had only displayed her legs to the knees.
posted by Andrea Peach | 10:01 PM
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