Thursday, August 9, 2018

A Voice from the Thornwood publication date

Artwork copyright Jack Wolf 2018
Great news! A Voice from the Thornwood: The Parting Words of a Shar Master will be published by Mandrake of Oxford early next year. Jack and I are very excited to finally see this book in print and share our tribal sister Corva’s story with you. Will keep you updated on the progress!

Here's another excerpt...


Agnes leaned forward. ‘Have you been told anything about the traditions that people like me follow?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I was simply told that you might have a thing or two to teach me.’ I grinned. ‘In fact, after seeing your house, I thought you might be some kind of witch.’

Agnes laughed. ‘I get that quite a bit but I am not what would be considered a witch. I do take such things as a compliment because I hold ‘true witches’ in great respect. So no, I am not a witch, though there are a few old christian ladies who give me a wide berth when they see me in town.’ She laughed. ‘I am something you probably have never heard of before.’

‘What’s that?’ I asked, imagining that she was going to say she was part of some herbalists’ or organic farmers’ collective.

Agnes’ face went slightly more serious. ‘I’m Thornish,’ she replied.

‘You are right,’ I said. ‘I have heard of Scottish and even Cornish, but never Thornish.’

When I look back, it was in that moment I recognized I had been brought to a kind of gateway that I hadn’t even known was there in the first place. It seems to me now that for a long time I had been guided, whether by my own destiny or by outside forces – likely a combination of both – to the point where I met Russell and later, the others.

‘Thornish people are pagan folks who walk in a very special way. We are what could be described as earth warriors or even forest mages, I guess. Some have suggested that tribal mystics might apply too. None of these descriptions really nails it though because we have never fit into the mold that the mainstream tries to force everyone into.’

I remember staring at Agnes and I must have had a blank look on my face as I tried to make heads or tails of what she had just said. That trademark soft grin she so habitually wore crept back onto her face even though I could tell she was trying to remain serious. After a few more seconds she gave in and the grin spread.

‘You should see your face right now,’ she said. ‘You really have no idea of what I’m talking about, do you?’

‘No one told me anything,’ I said.

’Well, there is only one reason I can think of that you came over here to see me, Carolyn, and that’s so I can help you on the next leg of your journey…even if right at this moment you look like you just swallowed a rock.’

‘Actually, I feel like someone just handed me a treasure map,’ I replied as coolly as I could.

Inside my belly I felt a creeping warmth that flowed from my core and joined the tingly feeling of déjà vu that had been climbing up my back and into my head. It wasn’t just the mead, it was something a lot deeper and a lot more instinctive. It was as if something clicked inside of me and just felt …right.

‘Alright then,’ Agnes said at last, filling our glasses up once again. ‘If it’s something you want to do, you can stay with me and if you want, I will teach you a few things.’

‘I would really like that,’ I replied.

 


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