Tag: Fiction

Pre-Order your copy of The Imagination Machine today!

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

What would you do if you lost your imagination?

Today is a very exciting day. After months and months of hard work planning, writing, and illustrating, my latest illustrated children’s book is finally open to pre-orders!

The Imagination Machine is a tale of friendship, adventure, and creativity. 

Sam thinks he has lost his imagination. When his friend Ophelia finds out, she offers to help him find it using the Imagination Machine! The machine has the power to bring you anywhere you can imagine. All you need to do is draw where you want to go.

You can now pre-order your digital or hardcover copy of The Imagination Machine via kickstarter. 

By backing us, not only will you help in bringing this project to life, but you’ll also have the opportunity to get your copy of The Imagination Machine before anyone else. And to sweeten the deal, you’ll also have access to exclusive goodies like activity pages, a coloring book, and stickers!

HOW TO LEVERAGE INSTAGRAM TO PROMOTE YOUR BOOK

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

Question time: how many platforms should authors have to promote their books?

Answer: it’s up to the author, and what you’re comfortable with. But whatever you do decide to do, make sure to do it well. It’s better to have two or three channels that are updated frequently than six or seven channels that you barely use.

My book, The Sapeiro Chronicles: A Forgotten Past, officially launched in June 2020. To prepare, I had my newsletter with a growing number of subscribers, a Facebook page that was active and updated often, and my website. I was comfortable with those channels and didn’t particularly see a reason to add anything else.

Then my brother, who works in marketing, suggested I add Instagram to my repertoire. I dug my heels in at first. Social media engagement doesn’t come naturally to me, and I’m much happier lurking on all these different platforms, rather than engaging with them. I had a hard time wrapping my head around it and didn’t really see the point of adding another platform.

But then a conundrum that I was facing became apparent. Most of the people following me on Facebook were friends and family. It was very difficult to reach out of my social circle without paying for ads, so the reach I had was limited.

I revisited my brother’s advice and took a closer look at Instagram. Finally, in August last year, I bit the bullet and started a page. And boy am I happy that I did!

Just like with any social media platform, Instagram has different communities where people with like-minded interests can gather and peruse each other’s content. There are audiences for cooking, home improvement, cats, dogs, and of course: books!

The book community, affectionally referred to as Bookstagram, boasts tens of thousands of user who are exceptionally active and engaged. It’s a thriving and supportive community of book lovers who share their interests and favorite reads. Since joining Bookstagram, I’ve made friends with people around the world and added more books than I will ever have time to read to my To Be Read (TBR) pile.

The platform is wonderful for many reasons. From a reader’s perspective, there are recommendations galore, beautiful bookish posts that draw the eye, and honest reviews of the hottest picks. If you curate your followers well, you can build a nice bubble of like-minded readers who also enjoy the same genres as you.

So here’s the thing: Bookstagram is a fantastic resource for readers, therefore, as an author, you can leverage the platform to reach an audience of hungry bookish individuals in the specific niche that you write in. With a little time and effort, you can build an audience that has an interest in your specific genre and market to them over time. As well, you can exponentially increase visibility of your book, meet with other authors in the same genre as you, and help find ARC readers for your next bit hit!

Here are a few things to keep in mind when starting your bookstagram, and tips on building engagement.

Learn how to use hashtags

First thing’s first: Instagram’s main draw over other platforms like Facebook is that it uses hashtags, like Twitter. Unless you specifically set your profile to ‘private’, your content can be viewed by anyone, without needed to be ‘friended’. This means that users can tailor their feed by subscribing to specific hashtags, or using said hashtags to find people sharing the content they want to see more of.

For example: someone interested in bookish things can follow #Bookstagram, which is a high-volume hashtag with billions of tagged photos. Now let’s say you want to see bookish content, but only for fantasy books. All you need to do is add in #fantasy.

By appropriately using hashtags on your images, you’re increasing the likelihood of reaching an audience that is interested and already engaged on the specific topic you are promoting. Not to mention that by following these hashtags yourself, you can connect with readers and other content creators in your genre, and maybe find opportunities to collaborate.

Instagram only allows you to use 30 hashtags per photo. This may seem like a lot, but it’s fairly easy to use them all up quite quickly! So choose carefully.

Engage with your audience

Posting a well-curated Bookstagram feed is one good step in fostering engagement and building a following. But what really makes a difference is how much you engage with other people. This means one of two things: either commenting on other people’s photos, or responding to comments on your own.  

The more you engage with other users, the more likely it is they will follow your page and engage with your own content. And that, more than anything, is what you want on your page. It’s one thing to have a ton of people following your page. It’s another thing entirely to have an engaged audience that interacts with your content.

In the fight between having a large following or an engaged audience, always opt for an engaged audience. A large audience that doesn’t interact with you isn’t worth much, and won’t help you in promoting your book.

Participate in engagement-building activities

There are plenty of opportunities to participate in engagement-building activities that allow you to meet awesome people around the world. Some are public, some are private, and some ask you to forward information.

Personally, I prefer the public ones, also known as follow loops, follow chains, or follow trains. Whatever the name attached, those are where I have met the most awesome bookstagrammers and have made the most friends.

Not all engagement-building activities are built the same. I’ve found the ones where I was invited to join in complicated follow chains to be largely not worth the effort, and not resulting in any actual engagement.

Ultimately, you need to decide what types of activities you enjoy the most and stick to what you feel most comfortable with. I regularly participate in, and host my own follow trains. It allows me to gain and meet bookish users, interact with an already engaged audience, and helps from an analytics point of view, to ensure my content is seen by the people I want to see it.

Plan your content, post frequently

The one downside (or upside, depending on how you look at it!) of any social media platform is that you need to make sure you post frequently to stay relevant. The more you post, the more likely it is people will interact with your page, and therefore the more likely that you’ll continue to be featured in people’s feeds.

When you create a Bookstagram account, I highly recommend that you pick a ‘creator’ account. It comes at no additional cost, but the major benefit is that it allows you to see your audience insights and see when your following is most active. Pick the three or four most active days, along with the times where your audience is most active and keep posting religiously.

It might seem like a headache, but the more frequently you post, the more likely you are to stay relevant. I find it helps to plan my posts in advance so I’m not scrambling at the last minute.

Obviously, there’s a whole lot more that goes into managing a bookstagram account than what I’ve included here. But consider it a baseline of knowledge to start from! And hey, if you do end up on Bookstagram, make sure to give me a shout.

HOW TO MAKE AN AUTHOR’S DAY

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

As the air outside gets colder, and windows begin to glisten with an effervescent sheen of frost on them in the morning, it can only mean one thing.

I will start wearing gloves and a hat to type, because it’s cold as **** outside. Also, winter is coming, and all the darkness with it. The bright side is the pretty lights, the Christmas tree, and general Holiday cheer in the air. Even with the… circumstances…that we are living through in 2020, there is still reason to celebrate and be merry, even if it’s from six feet apart.

On to the good stuff. You may have come in possession of an author recently. Maybe it’s a friend, a partner, a child, or a colleague. And you may be wondering how to make their day. Luckily, you’ve come to the right place! Authors aren’t really that complicated. All they need is a bit of love, some caffeinated warm drink, and long stretches of silence. But there are absolutely ways to help them as they fledge into their final author form and grow as writers. Here are a few easy, simple and cheap ideas on how to make an author’s day.

Buy their book

This point may seem terribly obvious, but buying an author’s book is a great way to encourage them to continue writing and working on their passion projects. It’s also a way to achieve rankings on Amazon and other book-seller websites.

Authors spend hundreds, if not thousands of hours poring over their work, trying to catch every mistake, plot hole, and under-developed character before the book is printed. It has been re-read so many times by the writer that the words melt into one another and the story stops making sense.

So every copy sold, even if it’s bought by a friend or family member, brings a small ray of sunshine into the little author’s heart. And each copy sold brings with it the hope that more copies will be sold through word of mouth, until eventually complete strangers begin picking up copies of the book!

So, buy the book. It is the easiest way to support your author friend. Even if it isn’t a genre that you read, even if it will sit on your bookshelf for years. Buy the book. Don’t ask for a free copy. It invalidates the blood, sweat, tears and literal thousands of dollars the author may have poured into bringing the book to market.

Buy the book.

Buy the book for your friends

Good, so you bought yourself a copy. Now, consider buying it for your friends. Did the author in your life just publish an illustrated kid’s book? Buy it for the end-of-year raffle at your child’s day care.

Or better yet, get all your holiday shopping done at once and buy copies for all the children in your life, get them signed, and then be the cool person who brought signed books for all the kids. It’s a good look, trust me.

Buying copies for others is a great way to spread the author’s work and maybe inspire others to check their work. Your author friend will be grateful for the exposure, and for the thoughtful gesture! Not to mention, it might be the fastest holiday shopping you ever do.

Review the book

Authors have a fickle relationship with reviews. On the one hand, a good review can inspire another potential fan to pick up a copy and give the book a shot. On the other, a needlessly cruel review can drive potential buyers away and result in lost sales. But the worst is having no reviews.

Obtaining reviews is hard. Like, harder than writing the book. It’s the literary equivalent of pulling teeth.

Think of it, how many times have you reviewed a product? Yet how much do you rely on reviews when buying things?

There’s a reason authors are obnoxiously annoying about getting people to review their books. And it’s because every review counts. Every little star is worth its weight in gold, and helps bring the book one step closer to finding its way to another potential fan.

This is especially true for Amazon reviews. Amazon works with complex algorithms that are akin to magic. But they do bring people towards products they are likely interested in. Blame it on Big Brother, but the algorithms work wonders in making sure your target audience is targeted.

Thing is, these algorithms only work if the reviews are in. No one really knows what the ‘magic’ number is, what number brings you closer to having your book in a newsletter. But the general consensus is that reviews are good, and a product that has many good reviews has a higher likelihood of being recommended to audiences interested in the product.

So yeah, buy the book, and then review the book.

Talk about the book

So you’ve read the book, reviewed the book, and bought copies for your friends. What’s next? Now it’s time to talk about the book. Have you ever suddenly become interested in a movie or show because someone spoke about it? Same happens with books.

Sales and exposure are the two things that authors crave. And they work hand in hand. Have good exposure? You’ll probably have decent sales. Have good sales? It’s probably going to lead to more exposure. The effect is exponential. The more people are exposed to a product, the more likely they are to think it is good, and the more likely they are to give it a chance.

So go ahead. Share that book picture on Instagram! Recommend the book in a thread asking for good entertainment. A lot of times, authors take care of their own marketing, and it can be really, really heartbreaking when it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. So hyping up a book on social media is really the best way to help support your author friend.

And it doesn’t just need to be once! The effect is compounded: the more people who do it, and the more often, the higher the chances someone will stumble upon the book and like what they see.

So you see? Supporting your author friend isn’t complicated, and nor is it expensive! But each of these little things brings a lot of recognition and exposure to the author and will help them as they grow their audiences and flourish as a writer.

Interested in supporting an indie author? You can do so by buying my book The Sapeiro Chronicles: A Forgotten Past here! And don’t forget to review it once you’re done reading!

CANADIAN THANKSGIVING SALE – A FORGOTTEN PAST FOR ONLY 99 CENTS!

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

This weekend is Thanksgiving in the Great White North, and for a limited time you can get The Sapeiro Chronicles: A Forgotten Past for less than a toonie! Better hurry though, sale ends on Monday, October 11th.

Curious to know more about the land of Sapeiro? Here’s the book blurb:

Beast Whisperer – that was Lily’s special talent. Useful, but not as flashy as some. Or so she thought. When she was a child, Lily had washed up on the riverbank near Basolt, with no memory of who she was. Taken in by the couple who found her, she was raised as their own, alongside their new baby. Years later she does something extraordinary. And word spreads of a new Spirit Hopper, someone who can enter into and control not only beasts, but people. Someone who can change the land of Sapeiro. Someone who supposedly died years before. The rumors catch the attention of those who would control her power. Those who would use Lily for their own purposes, no matter how many lives it costs. They set their plots to capture her in motion. But Lily discovers there is at least one group who might hold the key to her real identity. One group who would protect her. But trust does not come easily for Lily. And her would-be saviors have secrets of their own.

Get your copy here: https://bit.ly/34NcYIM

Read the first few chapters of The Sapeiro Chronicles!

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

Hi everyone,

The weekend is almost here! Maybe you’re looking for your next read, or maybe just keeping an eye out for an excuse to procrastinate on that thing you’re supposed to be doing.

Either way, here’s a solution for you: you can now read the first three chapters of The Sapeiro Chronicles: A Forgotten Past here!

The best part: it’s absolutely free!

I hope you enjoy those first few chapters. Full disclosure: the action gets really good soon after, and the plot thickens as of chapter 4, which introduces one of my favorite characters, Saki Stanimir.

Sakti is clever, strategic, and a total bad ass. She will absolutely beat you to a bloody pulp if she feels like it, and she’s on the verge of making a really big discovery that sets her off on a personal mission.

Here’s a quick synopsis of the story, so you know what you’re getting into:

Beast Whisperer – that was Lily’s special talent. Useful, but not as flashy as some. Or so she thought. When she was a child, Lily had washed up on the riverbank near Basolt, with no memory of who she was. Taken in by the couple who found her, she was raised as their own, alongside their new baby. Years later she does something extraordinary. And word spreads of a new Spirit Hopper, someone who can enter into and control not only beasts, but people. Someone who can change the land of Sapeiro. Someone who supposedly died years before. The rumors catch the attention of those who would control her power. Those who would use Lily for their own purposes, no matter how many lives it costs. They set their plots to capture her in motion. But Lily discovers there is at least one group who might hold the key to her real identity. One group who would protect her. But trust does not come easily for Lily. And her would-be saviors have secrets of their own.

Interested in the story? Check it out on Amazon!

THE IMPORTANCE OF A BAD FIRST DRAFT

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

Writing is stressful. It isn’t this blissfully serene activity, where writers spend their days on high-backed chairs sipping a perfectly roasted cup of coffee while story arcs magically plot and write themselves.

No. every word choice is agonizing. Every plot twist takes time and preparation to, well, plot.

From the second draft to the fourth (or fifth, tenth, or how ever many it may take to get to a final), stress levels are high as you boil down the words to their most perfect form, and strip away any imperfections within the narrative arc.

But here’s the thing: a lot of writers stress about this in their first draft. And that’s a bad thing. You may be asking yourself: “but shouldn’t my first draft be the best it can be so I can build from there?”

Here’s the short answer: no, it doesn’t.

The longer, more elaborate answer is that your first draft doesn’t need to be perfect, because perfection isn’t the goal.

No story is perfect, ever, but especially in the first few drafts. The story is still figuring out what it is trying to be. Even if you, the writer, may think you have everything perfectly plotted out and ready to go. The story needs room to breathe and expand.

The only expectation you should ever have of a first draft is to have it written. It doesn’t need to be good. Doesn’t even need to have all the pieces. It just needs to be on paper, and it needs to be finished in the sense that it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the first draft, the focus should be on story and making sure the main plot points are all in the right-ish order.  

You can always go back and tinker with the writing to your heart’s content. But focusing on the writing is kind of like choosing an outfit without looking at the forecast: might work out, but you might need to get changed. When you focus on the story, then you can make sure the pacing is good, the characters are where they need to be at the right time, and all the steps are in place.

The first draft is as bad as your story will ever get. It’s all improvement from this point on.

I’m a huge advocate of a bad first draft. My first draft for A Forgotten Past was just under 50,000 words. A few dozen drafts later, and the final was just over 100,000. The first draft was not publishable. Neither was the second or third. I would never have dreamed of sending it to an agent.

And that alleviated a lot of pressure. The stakes were lower. This draft just needed to be done, typos, mistakes, and run-on sentences galore. I didn’t care, because it didn’t matter. No one, short of a few trusted friends, would ever read that monstrosity.

But because I didn’t sweat the small stuff, I was able to get a first draft out in a few short months. And from there, I refined, re-plotted, re-wrote, and edited, edited, edited.

All the writers I know all agree on one thing: it’s a lot easier to edit than to write. Staring at a blank page is awful. The stakes are so high, needlessly so.

But editing is a thing of beauty. You have an outline, maybe not a clear one, but an idea is beginning to form, and it just needs some polishing. Your first draft is the putty that you need to sculpt your masterpiece. It needs to be sculpted and mashed and cut and worried for it to resemble something worth displaying.

Without that first bad draft of A Forgotten Past, I might never have finished the whole book. Or maybe I’d still be writing it. But by hanging up my pride as a writer and embracing a get-‘er done attitude, I was able to have fun just writing and throwing ideas onto a page for an older and wiser version of myself to edit at a later time.

The more time you waste on trying to find the exact, perfect word to describe something, the less time and energy you have on building your story.

And remember: story is everything. Readers will forgive a good book that is written okay. But good writing cannot cover for a bad story.

Reader Appreciation Post: Read Chapter One of A Forgotten Past!

Published on by Tiffany LafleurLeave a comment

It’s my birthday today! And to celebrate, I want to give a gift to YOU, the Reader! So here’s the entire first chapter of A Forgotten Past.

I hope you like it! And if you really like it, then feel free to get your copy on Amazon so you can continue reading through the story.

Enjoy 🙂

*****

CHAPTER ONE – MENIDI FIELDS

Though the sun had not yet touched the horizon, the moon was bright in the sky, casting a silvery sheen over the world below.  Spring was in the air, ripe with moisture which settled on Lily’s arms. She shivered and drew her fur-lined coat tighter around her shoulders. Summer was still a thought, but it would bring the warm nights she so looked forward to. Until then, her patrols would be cold and wearisome. 

She tucked the stray strands of her dark-brown hair behind her ear and stifled a yawn, shutting her green eyes tight. She and her patrol members were finally, mercifully on their way back home from their mission: accompanying a delivery of raw metals and building materials from Stonemire, their capital city, back to Basolt, their home.

Lily glanced at the cart to her left. The heavy wooden structure was laden with crates and boxes piled high upon one another, secured to the frame with coarse rope. At the front of the cart, six gray, draft horses snorted and neighed as they dug their hooves into the soft earth, muscles straining as they pulled the cart forward one step at a time. The cart driver, a squat old man with a bushy salt and pepper mustache, glanced warily from one side to another, as if expecting a threat to jump out from every shadow. 

He isn’t wrong,Lily thought, bracing herself against another cold gust of wind.

Treasure like this would be a fine acquisition for any thieves who happened to pass by. Hence, a ten-person patrol had been requisitioned. Lily glanced at her fellow guards. Swords were sheathed at their hips, and the backs of their dark cloaks had been embroidered with the Craig family crest: a purple mountain over a valley. Though the guards looked menacing, Lily knew that their patrol was more symbolic than practical. Their biggest threat was curious wildlife from the nearby Ashenson Wilds, the thick forest that spread across the western edge of the continent. And even that was a stretch.

Turning in her saddle, Lily could still make out the misty peaks of the Teraberg Mountains, their summits grazing the darkening sky like serrated teeth. Stonemire was a city fleshed out from within, buried deep in the heart of the largest mountain. Founded by the Craig family, it had taken eons to carve out the tunnels that connected the different parts of the capital, which eventually led to the other Craig settlements, further along the mountain range. 

As her patrol had put more distance between themselves and the capital, the rocky terrain had gradually given way to fields of grass, which made the journey home easier. It had taken them a full day of cantering across the Menidi Fields to arrive at the meeting spot, where they took over from the Stonemire guards in assuring the safety of the cargo on the way home. Another full day had passed since then. If they kept a steady pace overnight, they would arrive in Basolt just after the break of dawn.

Lily drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, trying to bury herself in the warm fabric. The cold air had started to seep through her skin and would soon reach her bones. She sighed, hoping the rest of the journey wouldn’t be too miserable. She already looked forward to wrapping herself under her thick blanket while sipping on her mother’s famous vegetable soup.

 Another shiver passed through her body. Lily sighed. Maybe it wasn’t just the cold. The dream last night hadn’t helped. She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. She hated that dream: dark water closing in on her, pushing and pulling her through a cold current. Her lungs feeling as though they would explode from lack of oxygen. The intolerable pressure around her head, as if someone had tried to crush her skull. Every so often it returned to haunt her.

Maybe the shivering had nothing to do with the temperature, after all.

The sound of hooves approaching snapped her out of her distracting thoughts. She glanced up as a man advanced toward her on a roan horse. His brown hair was pulled away from his face, and a scraggly beard covered his mouth. Though he looked like a menacing warrior, with a square jaw and thick cords of muscle wrapped around his arms, his eyes were kind, crinkling at the corners.

 Lily smiled at him as he drew closer. “Brandon. Did you get bored at the front of the patrol, all by yourself?” 

 Brandon grinned. Though the leader of their patrol – and Captain of Basolt – was well into his fifties, he led his people with the kindness and energy of a much younger man. “It’s dull, always being at the front. No one to talk to. Besides, I wanted to check on the status of the wolf pack.”

 Lily was readying an answer when a smug voice cut her off.

 “They’ve fallen behind, Captain. I don’t expect they will be causing us any more trouble.”

 Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had promised her parents she wouldn’t harm Cormick, no matter how much he tested her patience. In retrospect, she realized she shouldn’t have made a promise she knew she’d have a hard time keeping.

Cormick drew up on Brandon’s other side, matching his and Lily’s speed. His black hair was slicked away from his face, and he straightened his back as he rode alongside his leader. His high cheekbones made his face look sallow in the waning light. 

 “I haven’t let myself be bothered by the arduous nature of the trip, Captain, and have made sure to stay locked on to the wolves’ location.” He glanced pointedly at Lily as he said it, a small smirk barely tugging at the corner of his lips.

 Lily nonchalantly looked ahead.

 “The main core of the pack has fallen behind, yes. But the scouts are ahead, hoping to cut us off at the ridge,” she said, pointing ahead where the road dipped between two small hills. 

Cormick snorted. “I would have sensed them if they had tried to pass us,” he retorted contemptuously.

Lily reached for the bow slung across her back and notched an arrow. She held the tip out towards Brandon. 

 “Would you do the honour?” she asked. 

 Leaning over from his horse, Brandon blew softly on the tip of the arrow, which instantly ignited. Pointing the flaming projectile upward, Lily pulled the string taut and let the arrow fly with a hollow twang.

They watched as the arrow soared through the air in a graceful arc, a line of orange flames trailing behind it. It disappeared from view as it descended over the ridge – and was met with a surprised yowl. A gray wolf scuttled away; its tail tucked between its legs. A fellow scout followed suit, fearful of more fiery projectiles. They yipped pitifully as they ran into the surrounding fields.

Lily was barely able to conceal the grin that threatened to split her face. This was made even harder when she spotted Cormick’s confused yet enraged expression. 

Cormick was a gifted Beast Whisperer, but she was better.

 “How did you . . . They were all the way over there, how in the world could you sense that?” He asked, his voice a few pitches higher than usual. 

 Laughing heartily, Brandon slapped Lily on the back, winding her for a moment. 

 “Good thing we’ve got you with us, Lily. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Beast Whisperer with your range. It really is a gift you have.” 

 Cormick shot her a dark glare, his mouth a hard line. “I guess the orphan does have her talents,” he said, staring her straight in the eyes. “It’s too bad she can’t use it to remember who she is.” Digging his heels into his steed, he cantered forward and settled near the front of the patrol, nose in the air and shoulders squared. 

Brandon glared at Cormick’s back a few moments before turning his attention to Lily. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous. After all, he was considered the prodigy before you came along.” 

Lily shrugged. “I don’t let it get to me. And besides, he’s telling the truth. Why would I get mad at him for that?” 

Brandon smiled softly and looked up at the sky, lit by the shimmering light of the stars.

“One day I would like to see you lead your own patrol, Lily. I know that’s what Cormick wants, but he’s too self-centered. Good leaders aren’t those who lead for themselves. They lead for others.”

Lily smiled softly as she gazed up at the stars. Leader of her own patrol . . . she liked the sound of that. They trotted along in silence, broken only by the soft footfalls of the horses in the patrol and the creaking of the cart.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of something splintering, followed by a loud groan and a crash. Startled, Lily glanced back at the cart, which had come to an abrupt halt. A wheel of the merchant’s cart had broken under the weight of the metals it carried and was now listing precariously to one side.

Brandon swore under his breath. Jumping off his horse, he approached the cart to examine the damage. It wasn’t hard to see that the wheel was completely unsalvageable, the reinforced wooden spokes having fractured under the stress. Brandon sighed, turned, and addressed his patrol. 

“Looks like we’ll be stranded here until we can get this fixed. Luckily, we have a spare wheel, but it will take some time to re-attach the new one,” Brandon said, resting his hands on his hips.

“Cormick, Lily. Keep your senses sharp. I wouldn’t want those wolves to think we’re easy prey.” 

“Yes, Captain,” they replied in unison. Cormick darted off right away, shooting her another smug expression as he trotted over to the other side of the cart. Lily sighed. Why couldn’t he understand that she didn’t care what he thought about her? 

Lily dug her heels into her mare’s side, guiding her to a small rocky outcrop. There she had a sweeping view of the landscape – green rolling hills as far as the eyes could see, with an occasional pocket of bushes or trees. The sparse trees danced in the gentle wind. Everything was quiet, peaceful.

Closing her eyes, Lily opened her mind, reaching out with her consciousness to sense the beings around her. Though she remained firmly planted in her saddle, she was reaching out, sensing the warm glow of other beings surrounding her, appearing like patches of light in her mind.

She could sense the draft horses, glad for the rest the broken wheel provided them, as well as the mice scuttling in the grass. A hawk flew above, gazing on, uninterested in the scene below. The world was lit with the consciousnesses of the beings that surrounded her. She could sense them and feel their joy, fear, and determination to survive. Their emotions were her emotions.

Extending her reach further, Lily sought out the wolf pack. They were not difficult to find: seven large spirits clustered together, a few hundred meters behind the patrol. Their sharp, predatory minds were bright. They were forming a plan, intent on taking advantage of the broken wheel, which left her patrol stranded and weak. But their intentions changed suddenly, from focused planning to aggression – and finally fear.

Lily opened her eyes, suddenly on high alert. What could make the biggest predators in the fields feel such unrestrained fear? Closing her eyes again, she extended her consciousness, probing, searching for the cause of the fear that had overtaken the wolves so quickly. There didn’t seem to be anything that could— 

Lily frowned and concentrated harder. Another consciousness had appeared. It was far away but approaching fast. It was too fast for a forest bear but too slow for a horse. Its mind was intelligent, smarter than the wolves, but she was still not able to identify whether or not it was a threat. 

 Pulling on her mare’s reins, she dashed over to where Cormick stood, on the other side of the cart. The spare wheel had been brought out, waiting for the rest of the patrol to pry the shattered wheel from its spoke. Brandon looked at her quizzically as she sprinted along, though Lily ignored him. 

“Cormick,” she called as she approached him. He glared at her through hooded eyes.

“What, come to gloat about how powerful you are, orphan?” he spat. 

“No, you twit,” she snapped, patience running thin. “Something’s coming our way. Can you sense it?” 

Cormick was about to retort when his expression froze. He snapped his head eastward, towards where Lily had sensed the bright consciousness. 

“What is that?” he asked incredulously, all animosity gone.

Lily had a feeling she knew. Though it shouldn’t be possible, she knew what was lurching their way. There was only one thing on this side of the continent that could be that big, that powerful, and that intelligent.

A berserker. 

She quickly guided her horse over to the rest of her patrol, where Brandon had finally succeeded in taking off the broken wheel. Another two men were crouched near the spoke, trying to ease the new wheel on, while the others were straining at the frame, attempting to lift it high enough to latch on the new wheel.

“Something’s coming,” she blurted out, heart fluttering in her chest. 

Brandon’s expression instantly darkened. 

“What is it, thieves? The wolves? Rasara?” he asked, placing his hand instinctively on the pommel of his sword. 

“No,” she replied. “It’s a berserker.” 

 Brandon’s jaw dropped. “A berserker? How is that even possible? Are you sure?” 

Lily nodded vigorously. “No doubt about it. But hurry, it’s moving fast! We have to leave the cart behind and go!” 

Brandon’s reaction was swift. Immediately, he launched himself on his horse and addressed his patrol. 

 “Everyone back on their horses now, we’re leaving! Smash the wheels, we’ll go back for the stores tomorrow. No one is risking their lives for—” 

“It’s here!” Cormick yelled. His voice wavered as he pointed eastward, towards the hills. 

 Lily’s heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t need Cormick to tell her the berserker was upon them – she’d sensed its approach. Its incoming presence washed over her: powerful, near-paralyzing.

The creature was not yet in view, but the ground was shaking. Waves of fear and confusion came off the beast. Something had happened to it, something disorienting. It meant them no harm, but unfortunately it was not aware they were in its path. 

Before anyone could stop her, she jumped off her horse, and sprinted forward. The ground now rumbled with each of the beast’s steps, though it had not yet appeared at the top of the opposite hill. 

“Lily, come back!” Brandon yelled, trying in vain to catch her arm as she darted away. “What are you doing?” 

Ignoring her captain, Lily paused at the dip in the hill. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and steadied herself, taking in long, deep breaths, trying to slow her heartbeat and stop the trembling in her hands.

She hoped this would work.

The berserker came careening over the hill, emitting a guttural roar as it landed heavily on the ground. Its thick, gray skin glowed. It was at least twice Lily’s height and four times as long. Two long, white horns curled out from its brow, pointing forward, while another jutted out from its nose. Its milky-white eyes were set deep in its skull, rolling frantically. White froth foamed at its mouth, the spittle flying in all directions as it launched itself down the hill towards Lily. Its short, powerful legs, as thick as tree trunks, propelled it forward at an alarming speed.

It was a terrifying sight. Lily faintly heard her patrol yelling, but she couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of the berserker, its thin, stumpy tail whipping back and forth as it charged straight for her, head low to the ground, nostrils flared, and thin, disc-like ears pointing forward. 

 Steadying herself, Lily closed her eyes and opened her mind, concentrating on the beast in front of her. Its mind was clouded with fear, confusion, and pain. It formed a wall around its mind, blocking out all other thoughts. 

Gritting her teeth, Lily pushed harder, managing to slip tendrils of her own consciousness into the berserker’s mind. Focusing intently, she tried to inject thoughts of peace and calm. Noticing the alien presence, the massive animal recoiled, anger flaring as it fought back, trying to push the foreign consciousness out. Lily wormed her way back in, snuffing out the fear by enveloping it in tranquility. 

The effort seemed to have little effect, and the distance kept closing. Eventually, the terror tapered to acute anxiety, and to a slight unease. As the strength of the beast’s emotions diminished, so did its speed, until its breakneck sprint had devolved into a slow, ambling walk.

Lily opened her eyes. The berserker was a mere twenty meters from her. The ground no longer trembled with its steps, and its eyes had regained their focus; they were looking straight at her. It gave out a low moan, tossing its horned head around and came to a complete stop. It gave another low grumble and lay down on the grass, breathing heavily. Resting its head on the ground, it moaned pitifully. 

Lily noticed the cause of the beast’s suffering: a metal pole stuck in its flank. Thick blood ran down the length of its body. The berserker looked to Lily again, and she felt the despair in its mind. It needed her help. 

Cautiously, she approached, wary of the sharp horns that could so easily impale her. One sweep of its head and she would be mortally wounded. Keeping a wide berth between her and the horns, she approached the beast’s side, slowly making her way to the animal’s wound.

Even lying down, the berserker towered over her. Its chest rose and fell as it took quick, shallow breaths. Lily cautiously climbed onto its back leg, trying to reach the pole embedded in its hide. She climbed fully on top of the beast and crouched near the wound. The pole was made of thick iron, maybe four inches in diameter. Gingerly, she touched it. The berserker immediately recoiled and let out a low growl. She kept her balance as the beast beneath her shifted. 

She held her hand to the creature’s warm skin and reached out with her mind. 

 Let me help you, she repeated over and over, until her message was a song filling its head.

Slowly, she felt the berserker’s tense muscles relax ever so slightly. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pole with both hands, wrapping her fingers firmly around the rough metal.

Don’t move.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled. Beneath her, the beast whimpered but did not budge.

The pole didn’t move at first. Lily pulled harder, and it slowly began to give. She pulled the metal free. 

Nimbly, she jumped down from the berserker’s back, pole in hand. It was three feet long, the bottom foot drenched in blood. The point had been sharpened. If Lily didn’t know any better, she would have said it was a spear. 

But who would be reckless enough to attack a berserker? 

Free from the metal embedded in its flesh, the beast rocked back onto its feet and pushed itself up. The wound was already mending, the hole closing before Lily’s eyes.

She smiled. The creature’s magic was truly incredible. 

It looked at Lily once more and gratefully bowed its head. Lily bowed back in turn. 

Go home and be well.

With another growl, the berserker turned and began trotting away, back from the direction in which it had come. Lily watched it run, the trembling in the earth diminishing as it sped away. She vaguely realized that Brandon had joined her, and they watched the beast retreat.

“If I hadn’t seen that with my own eyes, I never would have believed it,” he said quietly, staring after the berserker as it disappeared from view. He turned to her. 

“Lily, that was incredibly dangerous. You could have gotten yourself killed!” He fell quiet. “I’m trying to be angry. I should be angry at you. But to be truthful, I’m still trying to understand how you managed to do that. It looked as if you were able to communicate with it.” 

Lily shrugged. “I just let it know that I wanted to help it.” She frowned. “Although I don’t know what it was doing here. It seemed as if something had attacked it.” 

Brandon shrugged. “It’s true that this is much further north than they typically roam. But down south, in the Wyck region, there are lots of abandoned castles and fortifications from the Great War. It could have impaled itself on an old piece of stray metal.” 

Brandon turned, beckoning Lily to follow him. “Let’s go home. The others are reattaching the wheel to the cart.” His eyes twinkled in the light of the stars. “I’ve never heard of a Beast Whisperer being able to influence animal behaviour before. If you’re not careful, you’ll go down in history as the strongest Beast Whisperer ever!”

Lily smiled demurely. Turning one last time, she stared at the spot where the berserker had disappeared. Something didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t figure out what. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes. At least she would have an interesting story to tell when she got home.

****

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