Wild Fire Writing Test

This is a scene that has proven to be rather iconic for the planning of the Ancient Era Copperbane books. This takes place in 'Wild Fire' and it's sort of character interaction between Kayoss Calmbreeze (probably the most well known of my characters) and the Bronze Hunter Derenze. This is set before Kayoss meets Spiira, who is at this time only a foal. This was written in 2007 and my writing style has improved in leaps and bounds since then, so here's the scene, as it was written on March 12th 2007 when I was in high school grade 11. This piece is also unique because it is one of very few literary pieces that is dated.

‘WILD FIRE’ Writing Test
Rosanna P. Brost
March 12th 2007

Winter Hunt Scene with Derenze, Vera and Kayoss Calmbreeze

Kayoss’s hunger was a knot in his abdomen that refused to die away, a ripple that caused him to scramble to his paws and sniff hopefully at the air. Fear made him hesitant as he picked his way through the winter starved brambles, alert for any stirring of movement. He knew it was foolish, that even the demon wouldn’t hunt in this sort of weather, but he wasn’t altogether sure if his enemy would stay home. Perhaps, like Kayoss, he would be out today, hunting.

But the demon and his blasphemy that was most definitely a horse did not hunt for food. Kayoss knew. He’d observed him. No, the demon hunted for no reason at all, except to carve the skins off his prey’s sometimes still half alive flesh and then leave the desecrated thing behind. The hateful sinner would do this deed to Kayoss as well, if Kayoss didn’t continue to be one paw ahead of him. The greatest sin in the world was for a predator to kill without fair reason, and then the killer had to as much of what they caught as possible, out of respect for the dead. The demon did not respect what he slaughtered. Kayoss doubted the thing needed food - if it was starving wouldn’t it of eaten its horse by now?

He slunk through the winter paralyzed trees, the wind making their branches shiver. Kayoss disregarded the spore he left in his path; there was nothing he could do about it. He cursed winter and its telling conditions, wishing for summer when he would surely have less confrontations with the demon. A sound made him stop. Below him, in a shallow ravine was a herd of browsing forest deer. Kayoss’s mouth watered at the sight of them and he made his way around them so that he was downwind of them. Slowly he eased himself towards them, senses fixed on them. Despite himself he found himself licking his jaws in anticipation as he picked out a tired buck. Survival of the fittest. That was another law the demon seemed to disregard.

Kayoss put one paw forward, ready to spring with jaws snapping at his prey and paused. One of the deer was looking straight at him! His eyes widened; had it seen him? Then, there was the most unnerving sensation of being watched… Kayoss scarpered, not caring that it sent his prey scurrying for cover. He dodged behind a tree and heard something hit it with a solid sound. There was a short sound, like a curse and he knew it was the demon. Kayoss swore lustily and ran again, dodging and weaving through the trees as the tempo of horse’s hooves picked up behind him.

The trees were too close together for him to take off and besides, he feared doing it. The demon’s aim with his death sticks was painfully good. Kayoss leaped a log and scrambled around a tree trunk, slipping as he put weight on his right hind leg in the slush. He got up and jumped out of the way only just in time as yet another death stick thudded into the ground. Kayoss charged recklessly down a hill, barely able to stay on all fours as he struggled to keep his footing. He leapt across a muddy creek bed, using his wings as extra propulsion. Behind him the horse followed suit, her senses fixed on his bushy tail.

Kayoss galloped up the embankment, his breath searing in his chest and surging with his panic. He crested it and practically fell down the other side, landing in a patch of soft muskeg. The falcolf ran easily across it and onto the solid vastness of a iced over lake. He sprinted onto it eagerly, hoping desperately for a friendly wind current. Behind him there was a splash and a cry.

Despite himself Kayoss turned and looked back at his enemy, whose horse had gotten stuck up to her chest in the muskeg. She was an unnatural coloured thing with white where tawny should be. The mare pawed and kicked desperately, whinnying to her rider who has fallen off of her back. Beneath Kayoss there was a crackling sound and he looked down. The ice at his paws was melting and becoming thinner very quickly. Cracks were starting to radiate out from it.

The demon was getting up and was running towards him, readying a death stick with his larger one. Kayoss knew he couldn’t fly now. He was a sitting duck - unless… Kayoss leapt in the air and came down with all four paws at the ice, with unexpectedly gave way beneath him. Inky black water incased him and he sank towards the bottom, his hidden gills spreading along his neck. Kayoss opened his mouth, running the liquid through them and breathed. He could stay down here forever.

But he had better things to do than hide in a lake. If he didn’t find the hole he’d made coming in, he'd very well be stuck in it for quite a while, and while he knew he’d be safe from the demon, he also knew the lake to be infested with freshwater pike. Kayoss found the glimmer of dusty light that was his hole and swam to it, grabbing the edge with his paws. It was almost more trouble than it was worth; the ice kept breaking under his hot claws as he sought purchase.

Finally he managed it and trotted away from his hole, shaking out his wings as he did. He paused, remembering the demon and looked over. The creature was staring at him and was much closer than Kayoss’s comfort permitted. Kayoss growled low, displaying his teeth. The demon smiled at him and bowed his head. The falcolf jerked around at the unmistakably Fallan gesture, eyes wide and ears pricked. Kayoss watched then as the strange animal turned and strode away the horse. Remembering that he needed to escape, Kayoss spread his wings and took off, pondering at his enemy's actions.

Was it possible that it might have another side to it that Kayoss didn't know about?

Wild Fire

The following was written in the summer of 2009, during a wild fire which plagued the landscape near Fintry which is in my homeland of the Okanagan Valley. It's descriptive practice, which I did to remind myself of the peculiar feeling of danger and impending disaster that permeates the world at such times. If you have never been near a wild fire, perhaps from this you will feel a little of what I felt on this day of July 21st 2009 at the family Lake Lot or 'Brost Post.' The following is never before seen and was written directly from my own observations. The original title of this piece is 'What it's Like to be in the Valley of a Wild Fire.' Hopefully you enjoy.

Firstly, it doesn’t smell like smoke. The smell is more like that of a warm crisp waffle cone, a scent that isn’t menacing, yet gives one pause as they step outside. Beyond the safe confines of the trailer, garish yellow light crawls across the dry grass of the lawn, turning all the world to gold. This too, is unnatural and is everywhere, highlighting everything one can see in this colour. It turns the normally soft colour of an orange freezie almost neon as the cold sugary liquid spills onto the grass, bright against the dying blades. Beyond the shore, highlighted against the opposite shore one can clearly note what looks like mist hovering several feet off the water, but what is actually smoke. It hovers there, sinister and alien while looking down the valley, one might actually see cottony clouds of more of the gas, thick and viscous. Above, on only one side of the valley the sky is bright blue, the true colour but down the valley, towards the inferno hidden by the belching burning white gas, the sky is a yellowish sort of cream. There’s a gradient between the cream and the white, which stretches across your horizon. Finally, because it's summer it is hot, but a different kind of hot. This is a humid heat, not from the caress of the distant fire, but from the heat which bounces off the land to be deflected back down at the world by the smoky blanket. It’s an oppressive heat, which can make you sweat proficiently, even while sitting still and relaxed. It gives you cause for worry, as in the forest the animals hide or flee. They know, and distantly you do as well that danger may be coming, that you should leave this place; yet you stay anyway, because reports say the fire is too far away.