And it was so. (^__~)
No, really. I wrote 2100 words more on the sequel to The Last Legend. Yay! Of course, tomorrow will be the real test when I read it again and either hate it or fall in love with it. (^__~)
Here's a blurb if you would like a taste of what sort of warriors the Fianna of ancient Ireland are:
The race begins as is always has and always will. Running feet whisper in the night like a pulse. Labored breaths echo like the susurrus sound of the wind. The darkness itself clings like a skin.
Some wear it better than others. One in particular becomes the night; at last, after a day of half-truths and civilized posturing, she shows her true face in the shadows. Kellan follows her progress from where he crouches upon the bough of a tree. The deer trail beneath him is empty, but it will not remain so for long.
She is approaching.