Fishbowl Helmet
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- Joined
- May 14, 2012
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- 954
Hello again. I'm hoping for some feedback on this quick scene. It's an early draft, but not a first. I'm almost totally sure I'm going to change the names, but not 100%.
This is the first scene at the start of the story so I'm curious how well it does at building a bit of world, engaging the reader and making them want to continue, introducing these two characters, and bringing in a spot of conflict. My early drafts are always light on description, so I already know that going in. It's just how I do.
As always, any constructive criticism is welcome. Please. Thank you.
#####
Two-Bears stood at the Calling Rock, one leg on the ground, one leg resting atop the rock. He beat the sunrise, again. Orange and red light spilled over the horizon and banished the twilight. A breeze swept from the west and sent a chill across his sweat-covered body. His leather breeches clung to his skin. His moccasins and tunic were clenched in his massive hand. The tribe was only just beginning to stir in the valley below. The strong carried the weak; the weak held back the strong. When he was chief it would be different. The strong would no longer serve the weak.
“Two-Bears.”
Endless Breath. More than anyone in the tribe, she continued to earn her name. Daily.
Two-Bears shifted his weight and brought his foot down from the Calling Rock. The old and weak were superstitious. The Calling Rock considered sacred. It was sacrilege and a defilement to touch the rock.
“What have you done?”
He stood taller and puffed out his chest. “I have done nothing.”
“How dare you touch the Calling Rock.”
Two-Bears glanced over his shoulder at the camp. Not many had stirred yet. The morning was still and silent. Anyone awake this early would still be making water or shifting around in bed fighting against the dawn. He could rid the tribe of this one without trouble. She was frail and weak. Two heads shorter than he and as light as a child.
Endless Breath pushed past him to examine the Calling Rock, to see the extent of his sin. “You need to make a sacrifice to the gods. Ask their forgiveness.”
“The gods don’t care that I stepped on a rock, woman. The gods made rocks to be stepped on. Look around you. What is the ground? Dirt. Grass. Rocks.”
Endless Breath gasped. “Blasphemy! What right do you have, warrior, to tell me what concerns the gods?”
He tired of the same arguments trotted out again and again. When he was chief she would be banished. Or made into a plaything. “Don’t you have a ceremony to prepare for, witch?”
She stopped cold. Her eyes fixed on his. The muscles in her arms twitched and she slowly balled her fists and her shoulders rolled into a hunch.
Two-Bears couldn’t help but smile. She had a bit of the warrior in her after all. Good. She would need it.
“Careful, witch,” he said. “If you strike me…”
She let out a heavy breath and stood straight. Her fingers splayed and arms held out in submission. “I will not strike you, chief-ling. This day or any other.”
A distant motion caught his eye and Two-Bears lazily looked toward the tree line. “Pity, witch. It would be nice to see what kind of fight you have in you. The rest of the tribe thinks you’re all cowards.”
Endless Breath’s eyes narrowed; she took a quick step toward him.
Her weight was wrong, her feet in the wrong places. A strong breeze would knock her down. They were unworthy of protection and food.
Two-Bears surged forward, planting a foot behind her legs and leaning in with his body to push her off balance. Her weight shifted and her eyes flashed open. Before she could fall he snatched ahold of her wrists. She was no more than a child’s doll in his hands.
He leaned in closer to speak softly. “You are a burden to the tribe. Your kind will not always be welcome among the People.”
As she began to object he released her wrists and stepped back, allowing her to fall with a satisfying “oomph”. He strode away before she could recover her wind.
He called over his shoulder, “See that you are prepared for the ceremony, witch. Tonight, I am chief.”
Endless Breath sat among the craggy stones considering the prospect of life under Chief Two-Bears. If she wasn’t under his thumb, or under his furs, she would be buried under the rocks and dirt.
“Not if I can help it, chief-ling.”
This is the first scene at the start of the story so I'm curious how well it does at building a bit of world, engaging the reader and making them want to continue, introducing these two characters, and bringing in a spot of conflict. My early drafts are always light on description, so I already know that going in. It's just how I do.
As always, any constructive criticism is welcome. Please. Thank you.
#####
Two-Bears stood at the Calling Rock, one leg on the ground, one leg resting atop the rock. He beat the sunrise, again. Orange and red light spilled over the horizon and banished the twilight. A breeze swept from the west and sent a chill across his sweat-covered body. His leather breeches clung to his skin. His moccasins and tunic were clenched in his massive hand. The tribe was only just beginning to stir in the valley below. The strong carried the weak; the weak held back the strong. When he was chief it would be different. The strong would no longer serve the weak.
“Two-Bears.”
Endless Breath. More than anyone in the tribe, she continued to earn her name. Daily.
Two-Bears shifted his weight and brought his foot down from the Calling Rock. The old and weak were superstitious. The Calling Rock considered sacred. It was sacrilege and a defilement to touch the rock.
“What have you done?”
He stood taller and puffed out his chest. “I have done nothing.”
“How dare you touch the Calling Rock.”
Two-Bears glanced over his shoulder at the camp. Not many had stirred yet. The morning was still and silent. Anyone awake this early would still be making water or shifting around in bed fighting against the dawn. He could rid the tribe of this one without trouble. She was frail and weak. Two heads shorter than he and as light as a child.
Endless Breath pushed past him to examine the Calling Rock, to see the extent of his sin. “You need to make a sacrifice to the gods. Ask their forgiveness.”
“The gods don’t care that I stepped on a rock, woman. The gods made rocks to be stepped on. Look around you. What is the ground? Dirt. Grass. Rocks.”
Endless Breath gasped. “Blasphemy! What right do you have, warrior, to tell me what concerns the gods?”
He tired of the same arguments trotted out again and again. When he was chief she would be banished. Or made into a plaything. “Don’t you have a ceremony to prepare for, witch?”
She stopped cold. Her eyes fixed on his. The muscles in her arms twitched and she slowly balled her fists and her shoulders rolled into a hunch.
Two-Bears couldn’t help but smile. She had a bit of the warrior in her after all. Good. She would need it.
“Careful, witch,” he said. “If you strike me…”
She let out a heavy breath and stood straight. Her fingers splayed and arms held out in submission. “I will not strike you, chief-ling. This day or any other.”
A distant motion caught his eye and Two-Bears lazily looked toward the tree line. “Pity, witch. It would be nice to see what kind of fight you have in you. The rest of the tribe thinks you’re all cowards.”
Endless Breath’s eyes narrowed; she took a quick step toward him.
Her weight was wrong, her feet in the wrong places. A strong breeze would knock her down. They were unworthy of protection and food.
Two-Bears surged forward, planting a foot behind her legs and leaning in with his body to push her off balance. Her weight shifted and her eyes flashed open. Before she could fall he snatched ahold of her wrists. She was no more than a child’s doll in his hands.
He leaned in closer to speak softly. “You are a burden to the tribe. Your kind will not always be welcome among the People.”
As she began to object he released her wrists and stepped back, allowing her to fall with a satisfying “oomph”. He strode away before she could recover her wind.
He called over his shoulder, “See that you are prepared for the ceremony, witch. Tonight, I am chief.”
Endless Breath sat among the craggy stones considering the prospect of life under Chief Two-Bears. If she wasn’t under his thumb, or under his furs, she would be buried under the rocks and dirt.
“Not if I can help it, chief-ling.”