Last year, I posted the first scene that I wrote. And I'm over here procrastinating and thinking, "ah, what the heck." It's a rough draft, so cut me some slack, okay? I'm still pretty excited. Hope you enjoy! :)
Sometimes, Maybelle wished she were a Five. Then, in awkward situations, like, oh, now for instance, she could dunk her head in a bucket of water, drown, and wake up on some island in the middle of nowhere.
But she wasn't a Five. And she was right here. And there was not a bucket of water in sight.
With a resigned sigh, Maybelle shoved a curl back under her wide-brimmed hat, crossed her arms, spaced her legs apart, and raised an eyebrow at the messenger. He brushed a hand awkwardly through his mass of fluffy hair and stumbled back under her intense gaze. Maybelle grinned at his discomfort-served him right-but then frowned when she spotted her parents shaking slightly. Perhaps she should back off a bit. This was the Pull, after all.
Maybelle licked her chapped lips and thought through the best response. She didn't usually restrain herself with thinking, but her parents could be in danger.
“Lord Valin truly did send you?” Maybelle asked, trying to keep her tone decisive but respectful. Haha. Respectful.
The stocky soldier nodded quickly, reminding Maybelle of the feathered woodpeckers who lived outside the hut. A sudden pang of longing shot through her mind. Her legs felt wobbly and her arms ached, like they often did after carrying a crippled lamb all day. She couldn't keep this up.
She collapsed in a rocking chair and threw her legs onto the table. The soldier frowned at her lack of decorum. Whatever. It would emphasize her next point. “Ya know,” Maybelle began, again trying not offend him. “There's no point to being a princess nowadays. The Pull saw to that.”
The soldier nodded, causing his hair to go whoosh whoosh whoosh. “Valin is not the Pull.”
“Oh, riiight how stupid of me. He's only the Lord of the Pull.” Her father flinched. Maybelle bit her lip. She glanced up at the soldier. He didn't seem too offended, only vaguely disgusted with her. Maybelle chuckled and began picking at her fingernail.
“What is your answer, miss. Yes or no?” He asked.
Maybelle was about to snap 'no.' But she was determined to think about it first, so she could at least assure her parents that she did. They ought to be so proud of her right now. She was actually thinking about the answer that could determine whether they lived or died!
But no. Even through her tired, foggy mind, Maybelle knew a decisive no would surely end in her death, and her parent's death. And again, she was no Five. But yes? Yuck. Just...yuck.
An idea struck her. What was it Mister Blom had been saying the other day? You can drag a goat, you can leave a goat, but sometimes the best thing is to coax a goat. Give it something they want, and you might just get something you want.
She glanced up at the fidgety, plump soldier. Well, Mister Blom hadn't been wrong before. At least not when it came to goats.
Maybelle swung her feet off the table, her boots slamming on the ground. Her mother jumped at the noise. The soldier scowled. Clearing her throat, Maybelle began, “Well, sir, as a princess.” Maybelle couldn't help but snort at that. “I intend to postpone my reply until I make Lord Valin of the Pull's acquaintance. He is welcome to visit me at my...” Maybelle burst into laughter. The soldier's scowl deepened and her parents grabbed each other, casting fearful glances at Maybelle. “Okay, okay, I can't keep this up. What's a fancy word for shack? Hovel? Cabin? I guess 'abode' is a good neutral word.” Maybelle crossed her legs daintily and folded her hands in her lap. “He is welcome to visit me at my abode. We can discuss further negotiations when or if he arrives. Until then...” Maybelle plopped her feet on the table again and waved her hand airily. “See ya. Have a nice day. Don't let the door hit your rear on the way out.”
The soldier glared at her. “Your impertinence will be noted!”
“Im-per-tin-ence? That's a mouthful.” Maybelle swung her legs off the table again and strode forward until she was staring the soldier straight in the eye. “I thought I was the princess and you were the soldier. Wait!” Maybelle gasped and took a step back, placing her hand on her chest. “Are you a princess too?”
The soldier glared once more at her, grabbed his cloak off a peg by the door, and stormed out. Maybelle kicked the rickety door harshly as he left. It slammed into his back. Maybelle chuckled at the string of curses from outside the hut.
Maybe it wasn't so bad being a normal human. A Five would have missed out on a good laugh.
Excuse the rough-draftness of the excerpt. I'm liking Maybelle a lot right now. I can't wait to delve deeper into her character!
Hope everyone else is having a good NaNoWriMo! Keep writing!