Oh hi, Readers, you snuck up on me. 🙂
And you’re probably wondering why I’m sandwiched between two giant sheets of tracing paper. Well, we (the cast) decided we should help out with this coloring book endeavor so our scribe can spend more time writing. Hence the tracing paper. 🙂
But It’s not quite working out the way I’d hoped. Who knew tracing myself would be such hard work?
Papa’s not helping either. He’s sitting next to me and laughing when my inspired tracing causes the papers to slip. I have to keep wriggling after them, and he finds that particularly amusing. So does Uncle Miren. At least he’s stopping my runaway graphite sticks with his feet.
Since I borrowed them from Uncle Miren in the first place, I might not get them back. Yeah, that’s what I thought. Uncle Miren’s pocketing them as I dictate this.
And there go the tracing papers again. This time, I’m pretty sure Papa’s magic pushed them out of alignment.
Our scribe had more success than I did. Check out the angel & mandala (test) coloring page she made. It’s mostly lines this time! We’re getting better at this. Well, she is. I’m still chasing down my tracing papers. They seem to have a mind of their own. Either that or Papa’s magic’s having fun kicking them around the room. Sigh.
Click here to download the pdf now. We left a bigger margin, so your printer should be happy. Don’t forget to tag us on social media when you post your colorful masterpiece! And let us know how we did.
In other news, Yvonne Mason from an internet radio/podcast program called Off the Chain interviewed our scribe!
And now, I will return you to the adventure in progress, Stealing Christmas. If you missed a part, we’ve got your back. You can catch up here: Part 0, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. We’ll publish an expanded edition later this year. Our scribe is writing a part a week for you as our special gift. ❤ But I reserve the right to demand more magical mayhem later. 😉
Stealing Christmas: A Curse Breaker Story
Three years ago…
Let that be enough. But Nolo had a feeling it wasn’t as the Marksman rose inside him again. Since it wasn’t corporeal unless he allowed the Marksman to take over his body, his alter-ego wasn’t constrained by the Huntress’ net. Nor did the Marksman like its bearer to be so ensnared.
Nolo wasn’t enjoying the experience either. Being dragged through the snow like a sack of potatoes was as uncomfortable and cold as it sounded, and he was glad for any help the Marksman could lend him.
When Nolo had become the Chooser of the Slain, he’d had no idea how complicated it would be, nor that he’d be sharing headspace with a supernatural entity of questionable loyalties and morals. Shadows pooled around Nolo as the Marksman manifested. This time, only its torso and head appeared, and they floated beside him.
“I hate nets,” the Marksman said as it tore at the shimmering web holding Nolo immobile.
When that did no good, the Marksman’s hand elongated into a black dagger, and purple lightning crawled over its edge, sharpening it.
“Neat trick. I’m not a fan of them either.”
The Marksman didn’s elaborate about its new weapon. It just sawed at the ropes, but they refused to break. Still, the Marksman kept at it as the Huntress slowed and sniffed the air for her prey. Run, Sarn, faster than you’ve ever run before. Because his alter-ego was tiring. Already, the Marksman’s shoulders were slumping, and its strokes were slowing. Whatever that net was made out of, it was affecting the Marksman too.
“Stop before it traps you too.”
The Marksman paused in its rescue efforts as if it had just noticed the net was draining it. Under its hood, its face kept winking in and out of sight, and it looked alarmingly similar to the face Nolo had seen in the looking-glass before leaving his quarters. Not something he wanted to think about right now.
“Go. I’ll be all right.”
At least Nolo hoped he would be. There were no guarantees when the Wild Hunt was involved. But the Marksman shook his head.
“I’m part of you. It will drain me even if I go within.”
Nolo wasn’t sure what the Marskmen meant by ‘go within’ or where exactly the Marksman vanished to when that entity wasn’t needed. Because it certainly wasn’t always with him. I would feel the Marksman’s presence if it was, and I don’t most of the time. But that was a question for another night preferably when a certain youngster wasn’t in mortal danger.
Nolo waggled his fingers, and they responded sluggishly at first then with increasing speed. He kept moving them and as the numbness started to fade, he slid his hands over his belt searching for the concealed sheathe where he kept a backup knife made of cold-forged iron.
What the forest couldn’t sense, it couldn’t object to, and the forest tended only to react to exposed metal blades. They didn’t much care about hidden ones. The Marksman smiled under his leather hood and gestured to the sleeping giants they passed as the Huntress shot into the darkness again, dragging them.
“I like your plan, but they won’t. ‘Carry no weapons’ is one of their rules.”
“I know. I’m counting on them violently objecting. I have a couple of silver throwing stars if they don’t.”
Nolo unclasped the hidden sheathe. He was also banking on the forest’s interest in his apprentice. He doubted those leaf-less sentinels would stand idly by if the Wild Hunt truly went after Sarn, but the Kid did have to cross the meadow where there were no trees enchanted or otherwise to help him. And that’s when they’ll make their play when Sarn is the most vulnerable.
The Kid had magic, but he seldom used it for anything other than navigation. No, magic wouldn’t save him. Even if he had a spell that would work against the Wild Hunt, they probably had a counter to it. As this net proved, they were prepared to take on a mage.
Nolo glared at the dark blurs sailing past at breakneck speed. You had better protect him until I can.
Find out what happens next in volume five of our *special* presentation. Until then, our scribe and the cast of the Curse Breaker series wish you and yours an awesome week!
Deals, Giveaways & Other Cool Stuff
Until next time, dear reader
This is Ran, “the tracer-in-training,” and son of Sarn wishing you a great week! 😉
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