I’ve had quite a few comments about Bounce, Coralie’s dog, on the six sentence snippets I’ve been posting on Six Sentence Sunday. So I thought I’d post a somewhat longer excerpt on how Coralie got Bounce, the better part of a year earlier. This is from the second book of the proposed trilogy, which I’ve given the working title of Horizon War. That will almost certainly change, since that title really applies to the whole trilogy. Anyway, here’s some background on Bounce. (Soot is Kevi’s pocket herder.)
“How is Coralie getting along with Bounce?” Bounce was my wedding gift to the couple, a herder puppy. I’d done her dam’s owner a favor months before, and he’d agreed to let Coralie see if any of the pups would take to her in repayment. Bounce, a bright sable bitch with hardly a white hair on her, had taken one look and flung herself into Coralie’s arms.
Kevi shook his head, grinning. “Hard to believe Soot’s only a month and a half older. Bounce has helped heal a hurt I didn’t even know about.”
“Coralie seemed so taken with Soot–and she’s good with all the pocket herders. But what hurt do you mean?”
“She had a herder, as a young girl. When it died of old age, she was so torn up she decided never to let herself love a dog again. That’s a lesson I had to learn a long time ago — you don’t forego love because sooner or later the love will end in death. For a while, maybe, though I’ve found it’s easier if the loves overlap. But she was ready for another dog. I’m glad you pushed her into it.”
Not that it had taken that much pushing. I looked around. At this elevation, the air was beginning to be cool in the mornings, and a few leaves were even starting to turn. The sun was warm enough today, pouring down from a brilliantly blue sky, but once the fall sales were over, we’d be heading to lower elevations for the winter. The nomads moved their winter camp from year to year, mostly to spare the grazing but increasingly to avoid slavers. Mik already had scouts out, looking for a good wintering area within a day’s ride of Doc’s cave. “Come on,” I said as I legged Idaho back into motion toward the next herd. Kevi pushed Smokescreen up by my side.
I might add that Kevi does not age – he’s over 250 years old – but most of the people surrounding him age as we do. Let me know if you’d like to see more excerpts, perhaps as a substitute for Six Sentence Sunday when that goes away late this year.