About Restless Earth:
About Blessing Sky:
Here’s an excerpt of Restless Earth to give you a taste of what it’s like:
A high, bell-like whinny sounded up ahead and Ahote looked up, startled.
“A Winged,” said Niyal.
Everyone else went tense. The horses began to stamp and sidle. Only Mother, who lay resting on her litter, seemed unaffected.
Ahote scanned the sky and spotted the creature. It was far away, beyond Millerton at Ahote’s best guess—a good half-day’s ride.
The Winged covered the distance in the space of four heartbeats, and then all havoc broke loose.
It had no Rider, only an empty saddle.
The horses began to rear and shy, and Fleet, who did not know to be afraid of Winged, wheeled in response to what she saw the rest doing.
Ahote cast about for a way to help Mother, but he spotted one of the men of the tribe scooping her up into his arms and holding her close to his chest.
Indignation and gratitude warred in Ahote, but he didn’t have time to discern which would prevail, for the pegasus dove straight for him, its white teeth bared and its hooves lashing out. With a quick yank, he pulled Fleet aside so that they dodged the creature’s headlong assault, and there was a sudden gust of wind as the great wings flapped, turning the dive back into a climb.
“Spread out!” a voice shouted from the tribe. “Don’t cluster together. We meet at the well.”
Ahote had no idea where any wells were. For the past day, they’d ridden through farm fields lying fallow after the last harvest. Flimsy-looking, wood-frame houses dotted the landscape, left empty by families that would have moved into Millerton for the cold months.
He was sure many of these homes had wells, but he hadn’t taken any careful inventory as he’d ridden past. Now, there was no one to ask as the tribe scattered like corn kernels dropped onto a flat stone. Horses shrieked in terror, their hooves pounding the ground in rhythmic thunder. The only one who did not move was Fleet, who stood awaiting Ahote’s command.
And this angered the Winged, who banked, turned, and dove for them again.
Ahote’s first instinct was to run, and that was what Fleet wanted to do as well, but instead, they waited. While the Winged was high in the air, it could bank and turn at will. As it descended, its options became more limited, so Ahote kept Fleet still, even as she trembled beneath him and danced in place.
The Winged was twenty lengths away, now fifteen, moving so fast that its outline blurred. Once the creature was ten lengths away, Ahote gave his command.
Fleet ran forward, toward the creature, ducking easily under its diamond-sharp hooves as the great wings flapped in a vain attempt to turn and pursue them. The flapping turned into an ungainly landing, and Ahote fancied that the advantage was now his.
No such luck. The Winged could run as fast as any horse—and faster than Fleet. It was gaining on them.
About the Author:
She is a graduate of the Clarion West Writer’s Workshop for Science Fiction and Fantasy and Viable Paradise Writers Workshop, and she often teaches the unit on self-publishing at the Taos Toolbox Writers Workshop.When she is not writing or chasing small children, she manages E.M. Tippetts Book Designs, her company which offers formatting, cover design, and editing services to authors and publishers.