Braxis woke with a great gasp. His nose covered in sand and dirt, his entire frame cold and wet. Lying on the bank of the icy river, his body throbbing in agony, he crawled forward, dragging his heavy torso up onto the dry ground and out of the lapping ripples that swirled over his back and legs. How long had he been lying here? He wondered. Turning his stiffened neck sideways, he glanced upwards to the sky that was beginning to darken, the caked dirt that clogged his fur slowing his efforts to swivel himself around. Shaking as furiously as he could, he managed to dislodge much of it before sinking back down into the grass below. He would have to wait it out. Once the darkness and the shadows that were growing longer each moment passed over him, his energy would be renewed, and the flesh wounds inflicted by the pestilent little rebels would heal.
In June, our less than two year old son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Not just any brain tumor, but a large, rapidly growing one which destroyed his eyesight almost completely in a ridiculously short amount of time.
It took months from the first signs something was wrong, and a lot of pushing from us, for the medical world to find the correct diagnosis, only to discover that had it been a few days longer he would have been permanently blind. A few weeks and… well, I don’t want to go there.
Being two weeks away from the release of my new novel, “Light Rising; the Swords of Truth”, I thought I’d share a little excerpt from one of the scenes in the book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.