NaNoWriMo Excerpt #3 -- The Girl (Outwilds)
I want to participate in National Novel Writing Month, but I need your help.
Now that I've posted my first two excerpts (which can be read here and here), I'm going to switch gears and post two excerpts from the other novel I'm working on, tentatively titled Outwilds.
As opposed to the excerpts I posted from Somnolence, which were from random places in the book, this first excerpt from Outwilds is the opening of the novel itself. In it we see the introduction of several of our main characters, a mysterious language, and a small glimpse into the titular Outwilds themselves.
Novel: Outwilds
Genre: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Western
Premise: Centuries after an unknown apocalyptic event nearly destroyed the human race, the world has limped on, harboring ancient magics and monolithic structures known only as Lighthouses -- seemingly supernatural entities that hold frightening power. Though mankind has struggled to reclaim what was lost when the world was cursed, there are many who believe that the world is moving inexorably towards destruction. When a small girl appears on the edge of an evil and inhospitable place known to the locals as the Outwilds, a chain of events is set into motion that will determine the fate of the human race. What mysteries does this girl hold, and will she play a pivotal role in the world's salvation -- or is she a harbinger of the end?
The brilliant rays of a harsh and indifferent sun beat mercilessly upon the brow of the girl with the star-shaped birthmark. She had long since left the lush greenery of the jungle behind; the sickness still raged in her belly, seeking to tear her apart from within, while each labored step in the furnace-like heat threatened to cripple her with exhaustion. It had seemed days since she had escaped those green lands, but the days and nights had blurred together in her fatigue and thirst, so there was no telling exactly how long it had been. She wished ineffectively to feel a cool breeze upon her face, but there was no wind here in the Outwilds -- only a sprawling, barren expanse of scorched earth that extended out of sight in every direction. Every direction except one.
Far ahead -- too far to judge accurately, the shimmering waves of heat and her dry, bloodshot eyes playing tricks with her sight -- there jutted from the ground a large cliff -- and atop it, farther on, what looked to be a touch of green. Whether this place would prove to be a safer haven than the jungle she was currently fleeing, she did not know, but there was a chance -- her only chance. She pressed on, sweat disappearing from her body as quickly as it formed, her hands clenched tightly against her stomach. One more step. Her feet began to drag, the encrusted salt of the ground slicing into the bare and blistered flesh. One more step. She heaved, vomiting a black, tar-like substance that disappeared almost immediately into the water-starved ground, leaving behind only a discolored blotch. One more step.
As the cracked earth of the Outwilds behind her gave way to softer clay and tufts of brown grass, the girl with the star-shaped birthmark fell to the ground, unconscious.
Thomas Weller stood by the shore of the Selvage River, named both for its proximity to the Outwilds and as a warning not to venture beyond it. The water was clean and clear, and the air was fresh atop the cliff that overlooked those deathly lands below. The stories of the Outwilds were well-known throughout the region. Thomas could barely tell in them where the facts turned to fiction, but it hardly mattered -- they were inhospitable lands, and the stories, whether true or not, served their purpose in deterring people from traveling there. Yet it was precisely because of those chilling tales of maddening heat and frightful beasts who lured men to their deaths that Thomas enjoyed this spot so much: no one else wanted to come near the Outwilds, and so Thomas was sure to have undisturbed peace.
As he gazed across the shimmering sea of salt that stretched endlessly out of view, Thomas casually glanced down towards the base of the cliff and was suddenly struck by the sight of something wholly unexpected. He dropped to his knees and strained his eyes to be sure they had not been deceived -- and, without question, they had not. He looked about him frantically to find some way down the cliff, but the side was sheer, and there were no footholds. With no other thought of what to do, Thomas removed all he was carrying save for his waterskin and leapt into the river, the rapid current carrying him quickly downstream. He floated on his back, his feet out in front of him to protect against rocks, and was swept down into Crescent Valley. He struggled against the current and soon had swum to the shore, where he dragged himself, gasping for air, from the river.
After a brief pause to recuperate, he made his way carefully to the Devil’s Pass -- a small, rocky gap in the side of the canyon wall that led directly to the edge of the Outwilds. As he stepped out from the shadow of the pass into the fervid heat of the sun, he shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned the area. There, several hundred feet away, was the unmistakably human shape he was looking for. He hurried along the canyon wall, careful not to stray too far from its side, and was soon standing over the small, naked body of a little girl. Her dark brown hair was thick and frazzled from the dry heat, and was surprisingly long, trailing most of the way down her back. From the size of her frame, Thomas estimated that she couldn’t be older than three or four. Her feet were sliced and bleeding, and her skin was bright pink, either from sunburn or heatstroke. He carefully lifted her into his arms and lowered his ear against her mouth, hearing only a faint, irregular breathing. He set her down gently and removed his rapidly drying shirt, placing it over her to protect her from the sun. He opened his waterskin and slowly poured a bit of water onto her head and face, then lifted it to her blistering lips for her to drink, her mouth moving unconsciously as the water splashed against her swollen tongue. Thomas closed his waterskin and slung it across his back again, then lifted the girl back up and began his trek towards the Devil’s Pass.
Thomas sat in the cool shade of the pass with the girl for several hours, dressing the wounds on her feet with his bandana, giving her carefully measured sips from his waterskin, and wetting her forehead occasionally to help bring her fever down. A number of times she swallowed a mouthful of water only to vomit it up again, some black sludge coming up with it. Thomas made frequent trips from the pass to the river to refill his waterskin until the lengthening shadows heralded the falling of night. Even here, away from the Outwilds, there were nocturnal predators that Thomas would have little chance of fending off alone. Without the flint he had left at the top of the cliff, building a fire was also out of the question. With no other options, he hoisted the girl into his arms and began the journey back to his home. The trip out of the valley was long and exhausting, and by the time he reached the crest where the river wound out of the forest to the east, where he found his pack and walking stick lying on the shore, the sun had disappeared beneath the western horizon.
Thomas gently laid the girl, whose breathing had steadied, by the side of the river, and rifled through his pack, pulling out his flint and a spare shirt. He unsheathed the hunting knife he wore strapped to his leg and carefully sliced the shirt into long ribbons. He struck the flint with his knife until the sparks set fire to the end of one of the cloth strips, which he carefully wrapped around the end of his walking stick. As he added more strips, the flame grew larger, until he was holding a makeshift torch. As the flame erupted from the end of the stick, the sudden flash of heat and light roused the girl, who opened her eyes slowly. They shone a brilliant amethyst in the firelight, like two gems twinkling in the night. Thomas turned to her, startled, when he heard her speak.
“Por-coth...da?”
Her voice was weak and raspy, and Thomas wasn’t sure if her words were unintelligible because he was unfamiliar with them, or simply because they were so strained. He knelt down beside her and brushed the hair from her face.
“Are you alright?” he asked concernedly. “Do you know where you are?”
The girl’s eyes were glassy with fever, but they focused on Thomas’ face, unwavering.
“Por-coth da?” she repeated, putting more emphasis on the words so that they would be clearer. Thomas sighed and shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, “I don’t know what you’re saying. I found you unconscious near the Outwilds. I think you have heatstroke. I’m going to take you back to my home until I can figure out where you’re from. Do you understand?”
The girl’s eyes remained motionless for a moment, then she looked at the river that ran beside them, gesturing to it. Thomas looked between it and her for a few seconds before realization dawned on him. He unfastened his waterskin and held it out to her. She reached out a small hand and gratefully took a drink, then let it go. Her eyes stayed fixed on Thomas’ face and seemed to sparkle just a bit clearer.
“Janeth ba fo-stateth,” she whispered unintelligibly, closing her eyes. Thomas shrugged.
“I’ll take that to mean ‘thank you’,” he said, fastening his waterskin to his back again. He sat on his haunches for a moment watching her carefully, then realized she had fallen back asleep. He set the torch down and put on his pack, then lifted her up, holding her carefully in one arm as he picked up the torch again. It was a long walk back to his house, but he knew the way well enough to navigate in the dark, and the fire from the torch would be enough to keep any predators at bay. As he made his way alongside the river, careful not to let the flame stray too close to any low-hanging tree branches, he heard a small snore come from the girl’s throat, and he smiled.
The full moon had covered most of its path across the sky by the time Thomas arrived home. The girl had slept soundly for the entire hike, and though the torch had burned out partway through, Thomas had not seen or heard any animals, and had actually felt strangely at-ease walking through the silver-lit forest. He expected the house to be cold and dark when he arrived, but it seemed his wife had kept a fire stoked on the hearth. He suddenly felt a wave of anxiety as he realized he had a tremendous amount of explaining to do.
“Gloria?” he said quietly as he entered the house, tapping the dirt and mud from his boots before walking into the foyer. He hoped briefly that his wife would be asleep after all, then winced slightly when he heard her rocking chair jolt backwards as she jumped out of it.
“Thomas! Thomas, I swear, you had me worried sick!” she exclaimed, still out of sight. “You promised you would be back before sunset, and it’s nigh-past the witching hour! What in blue blazes have you been--is that a child?”
Thomas raised a finger to his lips as the girl shifted in his arms. Gloria stood thunderstruck for a moment, looking wide-eyed between her shirtless husband and the small girl in his arms. She tried several times to speak, but could not find the words.
“I found her out by Crescent Valley,” he whispered. “On the edge of the Outwilds.”
“The...the Outwilds?” Gloria stammered, flabbergasted. Thomas nodded. Gloria followed him into the den, where he laid the girl on the sofa and covered her with a wool blanket. Her face was bright red in the light of the fire, but she still slept soundly. Thomas motioned for Gloria to step outside with him so they could talk without disturbing her.
“Thomas,” she said as she closed the door, “what on Earth is going on here? You found a little girl by the Outwilds?” Thomas nodded again.
“I don’t know what she was doing there, but she was unconscious from heatstroke when I found her,” Thomas said. Gloria placed her hand against her mouth in shock.
“Gracious,” she said, lowering her hand. “That poor girl. Is she alright?” Thomas looked back towards the door concernedly.
“She was sick for several hours, but I brought her fever down. I think she’ll be alright for now. I’m more concerned with where I found her. Gloria, I think she came from the Outwilds. She was completely naked, and her feet were cut and bleeding. There was a trail of blood behind her, leading directly into the Outwilds. She also speaks a language I’ve never heard before. Maybe there are people out there somewhere. A nomadic tribe or something.”
Gloria simply stood there, shaking her head in disbelief. “Impossible,” she said. “You know the stories. There’s simply no way people could survive out there. There’s no water, no food -- and the Drawbeasts! Gods, if even half of those stories are true, nobody could hope to survive in that wasteland! It’s a deathtrap!”
Thomas hooked his thumb towards the door. “Then what about her?” he asked, somewhat indignantly. “I’m telling you, Gloria, she came from the Outwilds. I don’t know how she survived, but I can’t see any other explanation.”
Gloria let out an exasperated sigh as she tried to wrap her mind around everything that was happening. She felt as though she had suddenly been knocked over the head with a very heavy stick. “Okay,” she said finally, “supposing you’re right, what are we supposed to do? We can’t very well take her back out there.” Thomas put his hand up to his face and tapped his cheek a few times in contemplation.
“I suppose I could take my binoculars back to where I found her and try to scout the area. Maybe I could spot a fire or something. Some indication of where she came from. We might even be wrong about the Outwilds. They say that time and space are funny out there. Maybe it’s not as big as we thought. In the meantime,” Thomas said, placing his hands on his wife’s arms, “we have a sick little girl who needs our help. Let’s just worry about that for now, okay?”
Gloria looked her husband in the eyes. They had been trying for a child of their own for a few years. She would be lying to herself if she thought that the stress of so many failures had not put a strain on their relationship. But the way that Thomas talked about the girl -- the way he had so gingerly carried her -- suddenly drew out her strong maternal instincts, and she had an overwhelming desire to help him care for her. She smiled and gave him a nod. Thomas smiled in return.
“I’ll go into town and get the doctor tomorrow morning,” Gloria said. “You should stay up with her tonight in case she needs anything.”
“Are you sure?” Thomas said, suddenly apprehensive. “I think you would make a better caretaker than me.” Gloria mock-punched him in the arm.
“You’re just trying to get to bed early,” she said sarcastically. Then, in a more serious tone, she added, “Besides, she’s already met you. It wouldn’t do her any good to wake up to another unfamiliar face.”
Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, begrudgingly acknowledging her words. “I suppose you’re right,” he said in acquiescence. Gloria looked her husband over, beads of perspiration shimmering on his skin like tiny gems in the moonlight, and suddenly prodded him in his bare chest.
“Say, didn’t you pack an extra shirt before you left?” she asked. Thomas smirked and blushed slightly, suddenly feeling very exposed.
“I’m afraid it was lost in the rescue operation,” he said with a shrug. Gloria just sighed and shook her head with a smile. “I’ll fetch you another one, dear, but then I’m going straight to bed, and you’re sitting by the couch all night.”
“Fair’s fair,” Thomas said, grinning. They stepped back inside to find the fire burning down and the girl snoring lightly on the couch; her cheeks were rosy and plump, and she seemed almost to radiate an aura of serenity as she slept. Gloria suddenly reached out and squeezed Thomas’ hand.
“I’m glad you went hiking today,” she whispered. Thomas smiled in the warm, cozy glow of the hearth.
“So am I.”
Restricted airflow caused Thomas to snore prominently from his slackened jaw, his head bent back at a near right angle against the couch behind him. He undoubtedly would have stayed in that position, and awoken several hours later with a severe neck cramp, had he not been roused by the sudden sensation of his hair being ruffled. His mouth closed slowly as his brain made its way up through several stages of sleep until he was groggily opening his eyes. He was slightly disoriented as they unexpectedly came into focus, not on his ceiling, but on a pair of intense violets with dark, black pits in the center. It took his sleep-deprived mind several moments to process what was happening; after a few seconds of confusion, Thomas stared upward in the weak light of dawn, gazing intently into the eyes of the girl on his couch, then grunted, his eyelids falling shut again with a smile.
“Good morning,” he whispered raspily, his vocal chords tight and strained against the extreme angle he had subjected them to. He cleared his throat and shuffled down a bit, his head nodding forward slightly. The girl drew her face back a few inches, still running her fingers through his hair.
“Obacha su-ceth,” she said quietly, as though to herself. Then, contorting her face slightly in intense concentration, she added, “Goo...mow...nang,” in imitation, doing her best to replicate the movement of Thomas’ lips.
Thomas’ eyes suddenly wrenched open at the unexpectedness of the words. He twisted his head away from her hand and looked up at the girl, who seemed to be giving him a hopeful, if not slightly confused, expression. Thomas smiled at her encouragingly and rested his head on the couch again, hoping he had not startled her too much. He was relieved to see that she did not seem terribly fazed as she placed her small hand back onto the top of his head.
“That’s very good!” he said, with a surprising amount of pep in his voice for having just woken up. He held up his hand as though he were a conductor, extending one finger and bobbing it up and down for each syllable. “Try one more time: good. more. ning.”
The girl watched his lips, then watched his finger. Her eyes bounced up and down in rhythm. “Good. More. Ning,” she said carefully, following the bobbing of his finger. Thomas smiled brightly at her.
“Thank you!” he said cheerfully. “It is a good morning, isn’t it?” The girl looked curiously at him, and he laughed a bit to himself, suddenly hoisting himself up onto the couch. The girl pulled her legs up against her chest, her feet poking out from underneath Thomas’ oversized shirt. She seemed slightly apprehensive about Thomas suddenly being so close to her, but did not recoil when he put his hand on top of her head.
“I know this must all seem very unusual,” he said, stroking her hair gently, “but we can get through this. I’m going to try to find out where you’re from so I can take you back to your family.” Thomas stopped a moment, thinking carefully about the implications of that. “However,” he added, “there’s no telling if that will even be possible. You may end up staying with us for a long time. In that case, I want to at least be able to talk to you. So, if I can’t learn your language, hopefully you can learn mine.” The girl gave him a quizzical look.
“Dra-mat ba?” she asked. Thomas shrugged in complete ignorance.
“I don’t have any idea what that means,” he said, “but that’s okay. Right now, I can probably guess what you’re thinking. You’re probably thirsty and hungry, aren’t you?”
The girl gave him a blank stare. Thomas rubbed at the stubble on his chin for a few moments, trying to think of how best to pantomime the words. He inhaled sharply as an idea suddenly came to him, and he reached down onto the floor to grasp the waterskin he had taken off before falling asleep.
“Water,” he said, pointing to the skin and making a drinking motion. He then pointed at the girl expectantly. “Water?” he said again, making another drinking motion. The girl’s eyes sparkled suddenly, and she nodded. “Wah...tuh,” she said, imitating his movements. Thomas raised a finger as though to indicate that he would be back in a moment, then returned from another room with a glass of cool water. He offered it to the girl, motioning for her to drink it. She took it from his hands and sniffed it once, then cautiously tasted it. With a sudden satisfaction, she lifted the glass against her face and drank furiously from it, water spilling down the sides of her mouth. She raised her arm and wiped her face dry with her sleeve, her hand disappearing inside it as it was dragged across her cheeks.
“Pana-mei!”, she exclaimed, handing the glass back to Thomas. He took it from her with an almost amused expression, wondering if this was the actual translation of ‘thank you’, and, if so, what the words she had said the night before might actually mean. Thomas shrugged the thought off by pantomiming an eating motion, and suggesting, “Food?” The girl’s stomach suddenly growled as though in response, and Thomas gave her another smile, carrying the glass away and disappearing for several minutes. The girl suddenly felt extremely anxious, and climbed down off the couch to search for him, only to be overwhelmed with the delicious smell of burning wood and frying eggs. Thomas looked over at her, standing at the corner of the den and the kitchen, her eyes wide and her mouth drooling slightly, and laughed.
“Food,” he said, pantomiming eating again, then pointing at the skillet that sat on top of the woodstove. The girl looked wide-eyed between Thomas and the skillet, then gave a broad smile -- the first smile Thomas had seen on her face, and one which filled his heart with a sudden and overwhelming sense of fulfillment.
“Obacha so-mano ‘food’!” she said with sudden excitement, her eyes glowing brightly in the firelight that burned from the stove and the golden light of dawn that streamed through the kitchen window. Thomas turned back to the skillet before hearing a startled yelp from the girl, and feeling her arms wrap tightly around his leg. “Obacha, por-cath da?” she said, her voice quivering a bit in fear. Thomas looked down at her and then followed her gaze up to where his wife was standing. Her lips were tightly pursed and her brow was furrowed, as though the girl’s reaction had wounded her. Thomas patted the girl on the head reassuringly.
“You don’t have to be scared of her,” he said, pointing to Gloria. “She won’t hurt you. That’s my wife, Gloria.” The girl looked up into Thomas’ eyes, then looked over at Gloria, relaxing her grip.
“‘Glow-ree-uh’?” she said quizzically. “Saneth nano ‘glow-ree-uh’.” Gloria smiled gingerly at the girl and squatted down so that she would be eye-level with her.
“That’s right,” she said softly, “my name is Gloria.” The girl looked back up at Thomas, still confused. Thomas pointed to himself.
“Thomas,” he said. Then he pointed at his wife. “Gloria,” he said. The girl looked between them, mouthing the names silently. Her face brightened a bit in understanding.
“Glow-ree-uh,” she said, pointing at Gloria. Then she pointed up at Thomas. “Obacha,” she said. Thomas shook his head and pointed at himself again.
“Thomas,” he repeated. The girl looked perplexed for a moment, then nodded. “Oba Tom-iss,” she said with a pleased grin. Thomas simply shrugged and smiled at her, patting her head.
“I suppose that will do,” he said, stirring the eggs in the skillet. Gloria stood back up and walked over to them, the girl’s smile fading and her grip tightening again.
“What about you?” Gloria asked, leaning forward with her hands pressed against her knees, her long, sandy blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. “Do you have a name?” The girl looked up at Thomas as though expecting him to translate. Thomas tapped his chin a few times, then pointed to himself again.
“Thomas,” he said, then pointed to his wife. “Gloria,” he said, then pointed expectantly at the girl. The girl followed his gestures, then pointed to herself. She stood staring at her hand for a moment, then she looked back up at Thomas.
“Por-ceth Arel-la,” she said. Gloria looked up at Thomas confusedly.
“Do you know what ‘pore keth’ means?” she asked. Thomas looked up towards the ceiling as he racked his brain, trying to remember the strange words he had heard from her.
“She said something like that to me yesterday,” he said. “And she said it when you came into the room. But I haven’t heard the other word before. Maybe she didn’t actually understand what we were saying.” The girl watched the two for a moment, then realized that she had confused them. She pointed up at Thomas.
“Por-coth Tom-iss,” she said. Then she pointed at Gloria. “Por-coth Glow-ree-uh.” Then she pointed to herself. “Por-ceth Arel-la.” Thomas and Gloria looked at each other in mutual surprise.
“You just got outsmarted by a little girl,” Gloria said with a giggle, Thomas rolling his eyes. She looked down at the girl with a smile. “Arella. It’s nice to meet you.” Arella nodded to Gloria, her eyes shining a bit.
“Glow-ree-uh,” she said. “Good. More. Ning.”
Its a nice read and I am sure the readers want to see more.
But please, please, remove that star-shaped birthmark from the first sentence!! I am the last one to judge, since I LOVE to work with clichees, but that is too much even for me ;)
Also the sentences at the start are quite long, add a few points.
The birthmark is actually an important plot point. Believe me, I wouldn't have included it if it didn't have some real significance.
EDIT You are right about it being cliche, though, so I wanted to elaborate more on that. One of the themes of the story, and one of the things I hope to do with it, is to subvert common literary cliches like that. At first, it very painfully reads as though the girl has a special birthmark to identify her as the one, or some other such nonsense. However, very shortly thereafter, the actual significance of the birthmark is revealed, and it's quite different from what you probably expected. There are several other cliches or tropes that I intend on introducing and then shortly after subverting, but you'll just have to take my word on that, since it isn't evident in this excerpt that that's what I'm doing.
Hopefully that makes it at least a little more bearable.