Colleen, the first kitsune
(see earlier post, “Kitsunes of Darkwana”) you meet in Daughters of Darkwana, the first book in my novel series, plays an unusual set of roles.
First, she
represents a possible love interest for Daughters protagonist, Wally Cook.
I didn’t
use the word “possible” to sound coy. The relationship
that develops between Wally and Colleen deviates from the usual,
hero-saves-girl-so-now-she-loves-him-because-we
(guys)-all-want-to-pretend-it-works-that-way path. It fails, in fact, to resemble that path in the slightest.
Colleen exists as
a different species from Wally, which further complicates matters in
partnership with the fact that Colleen hails from a female-dominated society.
Colleen grew up as
an orphan in the Zenko Clan (see earlier post, “Zenko, Inari, and Shinto Clans
of Darkwana”). She and her “sisters” waited, as children, for their parents to
return from their war.
Their parents did
not return.
This results in a
confused and conflicted sense of anger, grief, and abandonment issues for
Colleen.
A small portion
from Daughters follows
below. Colleen and Wally, in this scene, meet for the first time.
I will, next week,
discuss Wally’s supportive cast, the other kitsunes of Colleen’s clan.
Wally stood, surrounded
by rotten tree stumps. He stared at the creature before him. She regarded him
from a cautious distance.
The anthropomorphic fox matched his height. She stood on two human legs. Human arms
dangled at her sides. Her eyes glowed as liquid emeralds. Fangs filled her
muzzle. Wally estimated her age in the late twenties.
A silhouette of a
maple leaf decorated the left thigh of her baggy, green pants. She wore a
matching, sleeveless shirt.
A long fox tail
swayed behind her. Her exposed fur shone brown, short and smooth, as if painted
upon her. A band of white fur encircled her throat. Another looped her right
arm just below her shoulder.
A tree branch
rested on the ground between her and Wally, his muddy handprints smeared across
it. The monster had rescued him, he realized.
“What are you?” he
asked, though he doubted the creature would understand the question, let alone
possess the capacity to answer it.
She looked
insulted. “I am a kitsune. Obviously.”
Wally blushed. “Right.
That would be obvious. Except that I’m, ah, not from around here.”
She tilted her
head. “From which portion of Darkwana do you hail?”
“I’m not from Darkwana.
I’m from . . . farther away.”
Mild alarm crept
into her face. “There is no farther away.” She retreated several steps, as if
she dealt with a possible lunatic.
He offered her his
sanest smile. “What’s our most distant location?”
“The snow lands of
Southern Shell.”
“And after that?”
She paused. The
question, it seemed, never before occurred to her. “ . . . Nothing.”
Wally refused to
believe her. The real world must sit
beyond Darkwana’s edges.
She turned to
leave. Her tail swished.
“Wait!” He
sprinted forward and seized her arm.
Her eyes blazed
white, brighter than headlights. She spread her talons before his face. He
tumbled backwards with a sting of terror before he tripped and splashed
sideways into a shallow, muddy puddle.
A
cellophane-wrapped pack of cigarettes flew from his breast pocket. It slapped a
soggy nest of pine needles.
The kitsune froze.
Her wide eyes returned to their previous emerald-green. She knelt with wonder
to touch the cigarettes.
“What?” Wally
asked, surprised by her reaction. “You smoke?” He stumbled to his feet, patted
the empty pockets of his jeans. “You’re more than welcome to a cigarette, but I
seem to have lost my lighter, so—”
She gasped, hugged
the pack to her breast as if to protect them. “You would burn these?”
“What else are
they good for?”
She straightened.
Her tail thumped. “Nobody in her right mind would burn so much wealth.”
Wealth? The cigarettes are money, Wally realized.
“Well, keep ’em.” She saved his life, after all. An idea occurred to him. “How
would you like to earn an entire carton of cigarettes?”
She hesitated. Her
rear claws squeezed fistfuls of mud. “What would you ask of me?”
Good question.
Wally needed to return home in time to catch Perdita’s phone call. First, he needed
to escape Baxter’s nightmare. He also needed time to invent a strategy for such
a journey. He needed— “I need a safe place to hide,” he told her.
“Hide?” Her eyes
narrowed. “Are you a criminal?”
Wally shook his
head. “I write horror novels. Even published a few.”
She didn’t appear
persuaded. “From whom do you hide?”
Wally sighed, too
exhausted to try anything more creative than the truth. “Vasuki. His bishop,
Baxter, is after me.”
She offered her
hand with abrupt enthusiasm. “Colleen of the Zenko Clan.”
“Huh?”
She threw him an
impatient glare. “My name is Colleen.”
“Oh! Wally. Wally
Cook.”
They shook hands.
Thanks for reading.
Daughters of Darkwana received a sweet, succinct review, which you can read
here, http://www.thebookeaters.co.uk/daughters-of-darkwana-by-martin-wolt-jr/
Also, the third book in my series, Diaries of Darkwana, will hit Kindle
just as soon as I find out what happened to my cover artist.
I
publish my blogs as follows:
Tuesdays:
A look at the politics of the entertainment world at EntertainmentMicroscope.blogspot.com.
Wednesdays:
An inside look at my novels (such as Daughters of Darkwana, which you can now find on Kindle) at Darkwana.blogspot.com
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