This is my snippet this week for SFFSat. SFFSat is a place where a number of authors post snippets from their written works, and give the opportunity for comments, support and encouragement. Please also explore the other blogs that are part of this set - you can find the information here.
CONTENT ADVISORY: this snippet contains an amount of bad language. Don't blame me - blame Sorrel. I've asked my heroine to temper her language - she told me to volg off. So now you know who is to blame.
This is the very beginning of Sorrel in Scarlet.
Any landing you can walk away from is a good one.
I crawled out of the wreckage of the dead triplane, grabbing at the jasq to take that, at least, with me as I twisted out of the ripped canvas and broken spars. Blood was oozing from the gash in my side, and from the gash in my head, and probably from the other gashes I hadn't spotted yet.
Merik was dead. A branch had skewered him cleanly through the heart. His face had a look of surprised annoyance. I howled obscenities at the lafquassing scarlet trees that had wrenched the aeroplane into the ground and killed my friend, and more obscenities at Wrack, wherever he might be. I use too much foul language at the best of times - Tolly used to complain that I couldn't complete a sentence without saying 'volg' or 'lafquass' - but now I discovered just how wide a vocabulary of swear-words I possessed.
Comments welcome, as always!