One paragraph into chapter three on my fantasy piece and I froze-up. Nothing else will come out of me tonight. Too much on my mind, perhaps.
Here’s all I could ring out of the dry sponge tonight:
Hate is a powerful emotion. Inali had never known hate prior to the Hanupe attack. Now, the very blood in her veins pumped with a rage so poignant, so powerful, it seemed to propel her legs forward as she headed towards the stables that housed the remaining horses. She could feel the tingling in her fingers, the goosebumps raised on her arms as the abhorrence of the warriors filled her bones and sinewy marrow with a determination she had never thought possible. The peace of yesterday was a world far detached from the red-hued surroundings she found herself walking in presently.
She entered the stables, stepping over the massacred remains of an innocent colt of burnt russet coat. Just two days before, she had combed and braided its long mane in preparation for the autumn reaping.
More to come once I shed this funk. I think this calls for a popsicle and some puppy snuggles! They cure EVERYTHING!
~ Victoria Elizabeth Ann