-
Margaret Lukas
a book bubble about
River People
Literature & Fiction
Author Insight
Touched by the Mystical
Six years have passed.Here’s a snippet of the sequel. The sight of a stag climbing the bank from the river and into the yard made Bridget’s hands jerk with surprise. A second, third, and then a fourth animal sent steaming coffee splashing over the rim of her cup. Seeing a male deer in mid January with an unshed rack wasn’t unusual, but she’d never seen one with such large antlers. And never four, or so close to the buildings. The first animal reached the side of the barn and stopped. One-by-one, the others came on, stopping and waiting for the next. Standing four-abreast, they started for her. Their eyes fixed, aiming. She sucked in a deep breath. High stepping through the snow, they crossed the wide yard, keeping such precise formation they might have been harnessed to a sleigh. Without physical reins, yet shoulder to shoulder, they marched in supernatural reins. She’d believed the animals fully formed, but as they continued coming, their bodies thickened. Copper coats deepened in color, antlers swelled and swept higher, chests expanded with surety. The closer they came, the more quartered she felt. Each stag taking his acre.
Book Excerpt
River People
The train came to a complete stop. The matron in charge of the thirty-four children—some so small they still needed nappies and had just begun toddling—rose from her seat. Her eyes scanned the group but landed hard on Bridget, a warning as shrill as the train whistle. Because, Bridget thought, my hair is red, and she says that means I have “no soul”, and I’m a “half orphan”, “the worst kind.” And “a thief.”
Matron marched to Bridget’s seat with spectacles slipping down her long nose. “That disgusting habit of yours. I see your tongue again, I’ll cut it off.”
Other orphans watched; an older boy snickered.
Bridget squeezed harder at the band of wool and the thick coil of Grandma Teegan’s braid inside. She’d fight sadness and how much she missed Grandma Teegan. If you didn’t fight, one day you went to work, and three days later, a strange man stepped up to your bed and ran a dirty string from the top of your dead head to your dead toes. Measuring you for a burying box. Just like what happened to Rowan.
Amazon
Barnes&Noble
Kobo
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.