I sat down to start writing, and two and a half hours later, I had written 1,685 words. I never write that fast. Typically my writing process is like this: sit down to write. Get distracted by internet for six hours. Write 100 words. Call the day a success. More internet.
Here’s a bit of what I’ve written so far:
The other woman did not stir when Acantha crept by her to slip out of the tent. Outside, the air was cool, and Acantha walked toward the fire pit, hoping that the dying embers still held some heat.
“Not trying to escape, are you?”
Acantha startled, suddenly seeing the boy who sat not five feet from her. In the dark, she couldn’t make out his features; though she didn’t know who he was, she knew he must be one of other the nomads Eri had mentioned to her. Fidelis, or Seth. “I thought I wasn’t a prisoner,” she said, stiffly.
The boy stood and stepped closer to her. “You’re not.” Acantha could make out a small smile on his face. “Are you cold? I could start a fire.”
“Yes,” she said, and watched as he began to work on the fire. “You’re a witch, then?”
“Nah,” he said. “Just good with matches.”
Within minutes, the fire was lit, and Acantha could finally see the boy clearly. He was dark-featured, but the thing that caught Acantha’s attention was the scar across his throat, stark and pale against his darker skin. The boy looked up, catching Acantha looking at the mark.
“My name’s Fidelis, by the way,” he said, that faint smile still on his face.
“That’s bold,” Acantha said, holding her hands out to the catch the heat of the fire.
“Maybe,” Fidelis said, “but everyone calls me Fiddle, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” He sat back down and patted the ground next to him. “Come on, have a seat.”
Acantha frowned. Her nightgown was of the finest silk; she would not be sitting on the forest ground in it. “I’d rather stand,” she said.
“You’re going to have to get used to getting dirty,” Fidelis said. “You’re living with nomads now.”
“I am not living with you,” Acantha said, her voice loud in the hush of the night. “Once I find out what’s going on I’m leaving. I’m going home.”
I’ve developed a weird habit of styling my characters, and I made a style snap-shot of Acantha here, for no particular reason.
To everyone else doing NaNo – good luck!